He’s not even sure if he wants to keep being a spy. What’s more, 007 is not a killing machine. This is Baccarat, not Texas Hold’em Fleming explicitly shows that the cards, and not Bond’s wile, are the deciding factor in the mission’s main exercise. They leave this up to Bond’s largely inflexible role as a gambler in a game of chance. The British government will lose a chunk of money and an opportunity at a juicy target. If he fails, the world won’t be destroyed. Total win.īut Bond is - and this is another sudden and shocking realization - only a pawn, playing out a tiny role in a big war.

The premise: a former Nazi rocket scientist placed into the anxiety-riddled drama of the Cold War and not a single laser in sight. Moonraker was a fine novel - maybe one of the best - that shouldn’t be compared to its celluloid dud. My Three Favorite Bond Novels From Russia, With Loveįorget the big-budget, Moore-helmed debacle. The man is not emasculated, that’s for sure. On a job, they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around”).

A slightly womanizing lady killer (“Women were for recreation.

Casino Royaleīefore we draw a bead on things Bond is not, it’s worthwhile to note what he still is. Then the soul-erosion produced by high gambling - a compost of greed and fear and nervous tension - becomes unbearable and the senses awake and revolt from it. The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. Given Fleming’s real-life history with the British Secret Service, this shouldn’t be that surprising. Fleming is insightful and purposeful in his description of gambling, the elite rich and, especially, the world of the secret service agent. The prose is beautiful, flowing smoothly and with a grim demeanor that mirrors the story’s leading man. We get to hear 007’s thoughts, his cool, calculated manner - and we get a glimpse of his humanity and fallibility.Īfter the initial, knee-jerk discomfort (it does feel alien after watching 007 only through cinematic portrayal), seeing Bond’s thoughts along with Fleming’s clipped, British narration is both comfortable and enjoyable. In film, we take for granted that we’re being shown James Bond for who he is, what he does in prose, though, this description reaches an entirely different level. The old rule in writing is “show, don’t tell”.

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