Gavin Newsom’s new memoir, Young Man in a Hurry (Penguin Random House, 2026), arrives as the California governor positions himself for a likely 2028 presidential run — and according to a New York Times review, it offers plenty of material for both admirers and skeptics.

Veteran political correspondent Adam Nagourney portrays Newsom as a man shaped by hardship but equally defined by ambition, privilege, and a need for the spotlight.

The book traces Newsom’s turbulent upbringing — from his parents’ broken marriage to financial struggles that forced his mother to work multiple jobs.

Newsom describes himself as a dyslexic “latchkey kid” who felt like an outsider and battled insecurity throughout his youth. He recounts being mocked as “Newscum,” a schoolyard taunt later echoed by President Donald Trump.

Yet alongside hardship are vivid scenes of elite access. Newsom writes about growing up around the wealthy Getty family, boarding private jets and yachts, traveling on safaris, and mingling with celebrities.

The contrast — struggle and privilege — is a central theme.

Nagourney suggests the memoir is also a calculated act of political self-protection. He calls it, in effect, an exercise in “self-inoculation,” with Newsom shaping uncomfortable chapters before opponents can weaponize them.

Among those chapters: Newsom addresses his affair with an aide — married to one of his top staffers at the time — describing it as “the stupidest and also briefest of affairs.” The episode rocked his early political career and remains one of the most cited scandals of his tenure as San Francisco mayor.

The review notes that Newsom avoids directly confronting other controversies that have damaged his image — including his infamous maskless dinner at the French Laundry during COVID lockdowns, a moment that fueled the 2021 recall effort against him.

He ultimately survived that recall, but the dinner became shorthand for accusations of elite hypocrisy.

Nagourney also highlights contradictions in Newsom’s public persona.

At one point, the governor embraced conservative activist Charlie Kirk on his podcast. The next day, he sharply attacked President Trump.

The reviewer leaves readers wondering how Newsom reconciles such moves, suggesting a politician constantly calibrating for advantage.

In passages the reviewer describes as “unapologetically self-promoting,” Newsom emerges as intensely aware of his own image.

Nagourney writes that he “craves attention yet is wary of it,” portraying a politician who often seems to have “one eye on the mirror.”

The memoir presents Newsom as both self-critical and self-conscious — a man who overcompensated for dyslexia by memorizing speeches and, as he admits, even fabricating bibliographies as a student.

While the book attempts to rebut the caricature of Newsom as a slick, Hollywood-adjacent California liberal, the review makes clear that image remains difficult to shake.

The governor recounts studying Tony Robbins’ influence techniques and moving comfortably in wealthy circles — details unlikely to quiet critics who see him as overly polished and ambitious.

Notably, the reviewer points out what the memoir does not do. Newsom largely avoids attacking fellow Democrats and sidesteps deeper reflection on political missteps.

Aside from Donald Trump, he refrains from skewering rivals. Even Vice President Kamala Harris receives only brief mention.

Whether voters see a man forged by adversity or a carefully constructed, self-promoting brand manager may determine if this memoir is merely a prelude to a presidential campaign — or a final chapter in California politics.