In journalistic terms Martina Anderson was always regarded as “good copy”. I remember my colleagues in the Stormont press corps being offered a choice of an interview with a backbench Sinn Féin MLA or Anderson. The answer was always the same. “Let’s have an interview with Martina.”

The IRA member turned politician always knew how to generate a headline and often delivered unexpected quotes in interviews.

As an MLA and MEP she wore her political heart on her sleeve and could be unpredictable, newsworthy and seen as someone who routinely spoke her mind. At times she has taken the same approach when it comes to her newly released autobiography, Choosing the Struggle.

It is largely a fascinating narrative and revealing in certain parts of her personal and political life. Her love of her family shines through, particularly her admiration for her mother Betty and her father William, who was also known as Dinky. He was a Presbyterian who converted to Catholicism.

Some chapters are quite shocking as the author details how she had an abortion so she could go on an IRA bombing mission to Britain. She was eventually caught in a flat in Strathclyde in Scotland with fellow IRA members – including Patrick Magee, the Brighton bomber.

After she received a life sentence, she chronicles her days in prison with a searing honesty. She details how female IRA prisoners were subjected to abuse, brutality and intense hardship. The stories of strip-searching and ill-treatment are harrowing. The account of an operation in prison, when part of her uterus was removed, is particularly horrific. These are the most emotionally charged sections of the book.

Yet, despite such openness there are parts of her life that Anderson regards as “no-go” areas. She was appointed director of unionist engagement by the party. She does chronicle events she attended and the broad detail of what was done, but we get no sense of whether it was a success or failure. In fact there are only a handful of references to unionists throughout the book. Robin Swann, the former health minister, gets a fleeting mention, but rather oddly the author does not refer to him by his name. Instead she simply calls the post holder the Ulster Unionist Party health minister.

If you went in search of unionists in the book, you might also have to spend some time searching through every line in every chapter. The book does not have an index, nor is there a list of characters at the front. As a political biographer, I feel strongly that books such as this should always have an index to help the reader. I found the lack of one particularly frustrating. What was also frustrating was that I wanted the author to reveal more about the other parts of her life.

In 2021 she was told by the party to stand down as an MLA in her Foyle constituency. The reason given was that the leadership wanted fresh faces. There were worries that Anderson and her party colleague Karen Mullan would not get re-elected.

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Her family was shocked and hurt. Her sister Sharon said Sinn Féin had humiliated the author. She said, “The British could not do to our Martina what her comrades and friends have done.” This was a stinging rebuke.

Yet, the author quickly skips over this part of her life when as a reader you are anticipating more detail. Being sacked as an MLA by your own party is not some minor setback. It was not like being dropped by the school camogie team – this was potentially a career-ending decision by the Sinn Féin hierarchy.

Much of the book focuses on her work as a politician during key moments such as Brexit, Covid and numerous elections.

She talks about the sacrifices she had to make and the years she spent away from her family. There is little mention of those who died or who were maimed at the hands of the IRA. What we get is largely a one-sided account.

However, the author makes her position abundantly clear: “As a young woman I stood up, I fought back and I have never once regretted that decision.”

Most books about being in the IRA have been written by men so this autobiography comes from a different direction. It is candid in parts and offers revelations, but it somehow feels conveniently incomplete. More openness in the areas I have outlined would have made it a more insightful read.

Stephen Walker, a former BBC Northern Ireland political correspondent, is the author of biographies of Nobel Laureates John Hume and David Trimble