I will declare an interest.  As a modern history of Barclays in the late 1990s to the present, a large chunk of my early career was coincidental with Philip Augar’s well-researched timeline.  Essentially, from about page 49 to page 153 of this fascinating and entertaining book, I walked the same corridors, used the same lifts and frequented many of the same urinals as the cast of characters that populate this story.  Yet despite being central, dare I say, pivotal to much that happened in the upper echelons of this quintessentially British Bank during that time, I do not merit a single mention. Augar undertook over 400 hours of interviews with 100 insiders to research his story, but never rang me.  I am though not bitter; the riches he has uncovered here are a marvel to behold and read like a blow-torch of illumination compared to the flickering candle of my hazy memories of 10,000 hours spent amidst these banking gods and monsters.  For those who have worked for Barclays, the cast of characters will be etched in their minds; the brainy FT columnist Martin Taylor who blazed a trail and then imploded, the American HR tour-de-force, Sally Bott, the ennobled Chairman Sir Peter Middleton, the grumpy cricket loving CFO Oliver Stocken, the charismatic and colourful Canadian import Matthew W Barrett, the career banker turned bank saviour John Varley, and the aggressive Gordon Gekko caricature that was Bob Diamond and his crew of henchman investment bankers cutting-up rough. The book is an absolute gem; funny, captivating, full of twists and ‘seismic shocks’; the Big Bang, the financial crisis, the Lehman purchase, the LIBOR scandal, the internecine war between traditional bankers and their avaricious Capital markets cousins.

Unusually for a book about banking, Augar does not dwell on the sheer sums of money earned by the Barclays Capital and BGI business leaders [often the same people], but makes the over-enriched protagonists seem urbane and relatable. Diamond’s protege Rich Ricci appears fully formed as a free-wheeling, bruising enforcer, who despite making many millions from the sale of Barclays Global Investors, is photographed at Walthamstow Dogs and buying a lottery ticket in a Canary Wharf newsagent. When Bob Diamond loses the confidence of the Board (after the Bank of England had decided he had lost the confidence of the Barclays Board), the Chairman and another Director turn up at his house, while he is working at his kitchen table. This moment, like much of the way the book is written, appears like a diary entry, episodically, like a scene from a film, or TV drama. Even the quoted line from one of the most ferocious bankers of his generation, is off the pages of a script. No histrionics, “I must speak to my family” is all he can muster.

I have written elsewhere about my time working at Barclays. There was a frisson and energy to the place that I have never found elsewhere and a creativity and licence given to talented people, which is a testimony to the brilliance of many of the colleagues there and the mode set by Matt Barrett and John Varley; two of the best leaders I ever witnessed. (Helpfully, Varley’s total exoneration, after the SFO senselessly pursued him for keeping Barclays independent, is mentioned in the paperback edition). Where so many writers could easily adopt a cynical tone and find the place rank with discord, politics and banality; Augar somehow makes it so much more elevated and entertaining than that; a glimpse into the halcyon age of bankers and banking and a powerful insight into the sheer all-encompassing life-sapping energy and commitment it takes to make any impact at the top of a major business. Augar’s tale of Barclays at its heights, as well as plumbing its depths, is one the best business books you could read. There, I’ve said it.

John Dore