The death of Mrs. Thatcher—the extraordinary, divisive life of Mrs. Thatcher—is perhaps better left to be analyzed by those who have lived in, or thought about, Britain long enough to know what it really means. (My colleague John Cassidy has some of that.) The funeral marches can wait for St. Paul’s. The requiems are her people’s to write. But, by way of commemoration, allow me to offer a bagatelle in the form of a recommendation: listen to Mrs. Thatcher’s turn on Desert Island Discs. She appeared on the show in 1978, the year before she became Prime Minister, as the Right Honorable Margaret Thatcher, the Leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition. The timing is perfect—as a castaway, Thatcher is far enough along in her career to make for a commanding guest, but not so entrenched that she need not attempt to curry popularity by being entertaining. And the voice, pre-Streepified and unadulterated!
It was just a few weeks ago at the gym that I was listening to this—if you think the Stones or Jay-Z or whoever are a goad to maintaining a steady clip on the treadmill, try Mrs. Thatcher and her program of Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Verdi, and (here’s the oddball pick) Bob Newhart, introducing tobacco to civilization. Her book choice was a survival manual (that seemed very her); her luxury item, a photo album of her children. (I’d also recommend, as sort of companion piece, listening to the episode featuring Arthur Scargill, Thatcher’s bitter foe from the National Union of Mineworkers. If only they had thought to talk about Verdi…)
At one point, Plomley asks about her early aspirations:
And she did.
Above: Margaret Thatcher in front of the world’s largest Union Jack, in 1983. Photograph by Peter Marlow/Magnum.