"I think they all need to be," the One Nation leader said of politicians everywhere. "I want to walk into that House ... and say 'I'm back'. I told them I would be."

Engaged in a tumultuous relationship with the media, Hanson walked away from the press conference. "I think you got enough out of me," she said.

What came next is well known: Hanson didn't come back at all. She dramatically lost the seat of Blair.

And, for a long time, losing was what Hanson did. She lost her bid for the Senate in 2001, and lost again in the 2003 NSW state election. She lost in 2004 and 2007, lost in a Queensland election in 2009 and lost again in the 2013 federal election.

With that streak broken on July 2, Hanson is now preparing to return to Canberra – this time as a Queensland senator.

Her victory should send us back to books like former Sydney Morning Herald reporter Margo Kingston's singular account of Hanson's 1998 campaign.

Many voters know what a modern election campaign is like. Manufactured moments, scripted dialogue and a travelling media pack eating much of what is served up.

But, as the title suggests, Hanson's was something very different.

Kingston found a determined and difficult politician, leading candidates and supporters who had been disengaged from politics. Up and down Queensland and much further afield, Hanson's message had resonated with those hard done by in 1990s Australia and concerned about their future.

Left behind by competition policy, voters echoed her inflammatory comments about Aboriginal welfare and Asian immigration as Kingston and a handful of other out-of-town reporters found communities stripped of jobs and services.

Conservative campaign guru Lynton Crosby called Hanson "the accidental tourist of Australian politics", but Kingston sees little accident in her support base. Hanson listened and wasn't deterred by her shunning from the political class. Voters flocked to her common touch, openly hostile to southerners they felt were sneering at Hanson.

This campaign diary is unbelievable at times. Running parallel to Howard's near-death battle against Labor leader Kim Beazley, Hanson seems removed from the rest of the election.

Incompetent amateurs were advising Australia's most famous politician, alongside cast-offs from the major parties and well-meaning novices. One Nation policies on health, education and the fantasy Easytax scheme (a 2 per cent flat tax on transactions) were found to be fiction as quickly as there were released. The media, including from as far afield as Japan and Britain, often chased the candidate in speeding cars and planes.

Hanson and Kingston develop a sometimes begrudging friendship, with the reporter gently advising the candidate at times and even staying overnight in her home after one long day. The emotions of the subject and the author are close to the surface throughout.

Of course, the book's postscript is about to resume playing out for all to see.

Kingston, now editor of the No Fibs citizen journalism website and a prolific Twitter user, is reminding the media and voters of the disconnect between Hanson and most of the country, and arguing that proper handling of One Nation could see the warring tribes of politics reconnect.

Arguing much of her support is lost in translation in Canberra, Kingston says Hanson is liked by ordinary Australians and deserves respect for winning her place in Parliament.

For those disgusted or baffled by Hanson's return, Off the Rails has a powerful contemporary message about the disparate realities of politics and the power of a true outsider. Parts of the book could be current day, and the photography by Dean Sewell is extraordinary.

Finding a copy of this 15-year-old book might be challenging but its story and message are worth the effort.

Tom McIlroy is a political reporter for Fairfax Media. Off the Rails: the Pauline Hanson Trip, by Margo Kingston, was published by Allen & Unwin in 1999.