Jeffrey Archer died yesterday. The world-famous British author dabbled in politics, rose and fell with great drama (read: financial ruin), played his part in a few political scandals, and did a couple of years in prison. His life, as lived, arguably had a better plot than any of his bestsellers.

"Birth is life's first lottery ticket," he once wrote. His was drawn on April 15, 1940. At 29, he became a Member of Parliament, went on to serve as Deputy Chairman of the Conservative Party under Margaret Thatcher, and was eventually made a life peer in the House of Lords. But neither his political acumen nor his brilliance at storytelling could ward off near-bankruptcy, the fruit of some spectacularly ill-judged investments. There was a silver lining, though. Penury pushed him to try something new, and he wrote his first novel, Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less (1976), a title that doubled as a personal plea. It launched a blockbuster career that has sold over 300 million copies worldwide. Kane and Abel (1979) made him a global bestseller, and First Among Equals and The Clifton Chronicles followed. He was fascinated by power, ambition, and what they do to people, a subject on which he had, shall we say, firsthand data. Betrayal and financial ruin were recurring themes, on the page and off it.

His plots were shaped by his life. His father, William Archer, was (if I may add) also a conman and bigamist who fled the authorities under assorted aliases, so the apple did not fall far from the plot twist. Archer was a realistic dreamer, and dreams, as he discovered, can be distressing.

He invited trouble, then turned it into compelling narrative. In 1987, the tabloid Daily Star alleged that Archer had paid a sex worker for her services. He denied it, sued the paper, won, and walked away with a record £500,000 in damages. Twelve years later, while he was running as the Conservative candidate for mayor of London, it emerged that he had lied on oath, produced forged diary entries, and cajoled an acquaintance, Ted Francis, into providing a false alibi for the night in question. Out of the mayoral race he went, and into jail for perjury and perverting the course of justice. Ever the professional, he used his two years inside to chronicle the experience in the three-volume Prison Diary.

Some of Archer's words still echo in my mind. "You can often judge the character of a person by the way he treats his fellow men." "Sometimes it's an advantage to be disadvantaged." "I feel I have had a very interesting life, but I am rather hoping there is still more to come." "I'd rather have him inside the tent pissing out than outside pissing in." "The popularity of an individual in life often only manifests itself in death." And, borrowing from the Bard, as any good storyteller would: "Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow."