Source Code: My Beginnings by Bill Gates review

The Guardian

31-01-2025

Bill Gates is the John McEnroe of the tech world: once a snotty brat whom everyone loved to hate, now grown up into a beloved elder statesman. Former rivals, most notably Apple's Steve Jobs, have since departed this dimension, while the Gates Foundation, focusing on unsexy but important technologies such as malaria nets, was doing 'effective altruism' long before that became a fashionable term among philosophically minded tech bros.
Time, then, to look back. In the first of what the author threatens will be a trilogy of memoirs, Gates recounts the first two decades of his life, from his birth in 1955 to the founding of Microsoft and its agreement to supply a version of the Basic programming language to Apple Computer in 1977.
He grows up in a pleasant suburb of Seattle with a lawyer father and a schoolteacher mother. His intellectual development is keyed to an origin scene in which he is fascinated by his grandmother's skill at card games around the family dining table. The eight-year-old Gates realises that gin rummy and sevens are systems of dynamic data that the player can learn to manipulate.
As he tells it, Gates was a rather disruptive schoolchild, always playing the smart alec and not wanting to try too hard, until he first learned to use a computer terminal under the guidance of an influential maths teacher named Bill Dougall. (I wanted to learn more about this man than Gates supplies in a still extraordinary thumbnail sketch: 'He had been a World War II Navy pilot and worked as an aeronautical engineer at Boeing. Somewhere along the way he earned a degree in French Literature from the Sorbonne in Paris on top of graduate degrees in engineering and education.')
Ah, the computer terminal. It is 1968, so the school terminal communicates with a mainframe elsewhere. Soon enough, the 13-year-old Gates has taught it to play noughts and crosses. He is hooked. He befriends another pupil, Paul Allen – who will later introduce him to alcohol and LSD – and together they pore over programming manuals deep into the night. Gates plans a vast simulation war game, but he and his friends get their first taste of writing actually useful software when they are asked to automate class scheduling after their school merges with another. Success with this leads the children, now calling themselves the Lakeside Programming Group, to write a payroll program for local businesses, and later to create software for traffic engineers.
There follows a smooth transition to Harvard, where in the ferment of anti-war campus protests our hero is more interested in the arrival, one day in 1969, of a PDP-10 computer. Gates takes classes in maths but also chemistry and the Greek classics. Realising he doesn't have it in him to become a pure mathematician, he goes all-in on computers once a new home machine, the Altair, is announced. He and Paul Allen will write its Basic, having decided to call themselves 'Micro-Soft'.
The early home computer scene, Gates notes, was a countercultural, hippy thing: cheap computers 'represented a triumph of the masses against the monolithic corporations and establishment forces that controlled access to computing', and so software was widely 'shared', or copied among people for free. It was Gates himself who, notoriously, pushed back against this culture when he found out most users of his Basic weren't paying for it. By 'stealing software', he wrote in an open letter in 1976, 'you prevent good software from being written. Who can afford to do professional work for nothing?' This rubbed a lot of people up the wrong way and still does, at least in the more militant parts of the 'open-source' world. But he had a point. And that, readers, is why your Office 365 account just renewed for another year.
Fans of Word and Excel, though, will have to wait for subsequent volumes of Gates's recollections, as will those who want more about his later battles with Apple, though Steve Jobs does get an amusing walk-on part. (Micro-Soft's general manager keeps a notebook of sales calls, on one page of which we read: '11.15 Steve Jobs calls. Was very rude.'). This volume, still, is more than just a geek's inventory of early achievements. There is a genuine gratitude for influential mentors, and a wry mood of self-deprecation throughout. Gates gleefully records his first preschool report: 'He seemed determined to impress us with his complete lack of concern for any phase of school life.' Later, he explains how he acquired a sudden interest in theatre classes. 'Admittedly the main draw for me was the higher percentage of girls in drama. And since the main activity in the class was to read lines to each other, the odds were very good that I'd actually talk to one.' Strikingly, unlike most 'self-made' billionaires, Gates emphasises the 'unearned privilege' of his upbringing and the peculiar circumstances – 'mostly out of my control' – that enabled his career. Adorably, he even admits to still having panic dreams about his university exams.
The book's most touching pages recount how one of his closest friends and colleagues in the programming group, Kent Evans, died in a mountaineering accident when he was 17. 'Throughout my life, I have tended to deal with loss by avoiding it,' Gates writes. He says later that if he were growing up today, he would probably be identified as 'on the autism spectrum', and now regrets some of his early behaviour, though 'I wouldn't change the brain I was given for anything'. There is a sense of the writer, older and wiser, trying to redeem the past through understanding it better, a thing that no one has yet seen Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg attempt in public. That alone makes Bill Gates a more human tech titan than most of his rivals, past and present.
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Source Code: My Beginnings by Bill Gates is published by Allen Lane (£25). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.