It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!
^ Back to Top
The MI6 Community is unofficial and in no way associated or linked with EON Productions, MGM, Sony Pictures, Activision or Ian Fleming Publications. Any views expressed on this website are of the individual members and do not necessarily reflect those of the Community owners. Any video or images displayed in topics on MI6 Community are embedded by users from third party sites and as such MI6 Community and its owners take no responsibility for this material.
James Bond News • James Bond Articles • James Bond Magazine
Comments
SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP-a handguide for those who wish to get rid of self esteem.
Smart and funny book from 2009.
TSWLM I can do without, but really up for your thoughts on OHMSS, possibly Fleming's second-best book (after FRWL).
Written in 1857 :
I fully agree, @Lancaster007!
I will communicate my thoughts on TSWLM. It's the one book I feel I have a completely different affection for than most other folks.
And yes, OHMSS, what a great book. We'll get there.
I'm even contemplating reading Colonel Sun, which would be a first for me.
Thanks, as usual for the feedback. Also thank you to @Revelator, who really added a lot of useful informating regarding TB and the history of Spectre.
Yes, very good.
You're very welcome. I'm happy to be of service and am looking forward to your upcoming reviews.
There aren't many new things to say about The Hound of the Baskervilles, so all I can report is what a pleasure my third reading was. Even when I know exactly what's going to happen I still thrill to it, thanks to Doyle's elegantly simple and muscular prose, his sly humor, and his faultless knowledge of when to throw in a moment of Gothic horror. Knowing the story in advance also allows one to admire the careful carpentry of Doyle's plotting, and how's able to create rich characters through just a few attributes. Pleasure reading has rarely been more pleasurable.
I'm re-reading the book because I plan to watch (and re-watch) six film adaptations of the book: the 1939 Basil Rathbone classic, the 1959 Hammer horror version with Peter Cushing, the 1968 television version that also stars Cushing, the 1981 Russian version starring Vasily Livanov, the 1983 TV production with Ian Richardson, and the 1988 version starring the greatest Holmes of all (in my immodest opinion), Jeremy Brett.
One of my favourite Sherlock Holmes story. Almost a horror novel at times. Last time I read it I was in Devon.
BOOK 10
THE SPY WHO LOVED ME
by Ian Fleming
"I had become increasingly surprised to find my thrillers, which were designed for an adult audience, being read in schools, and that young people were making a hero out of James Bond ... So it crossed my mind to write a cautionary tale about Bond, to put the record straight in the minds particularly of younger readers ... the experiment has obviously gone very much awry". These are the words of Ian Fleming himself, dismissing his tenth novel, THE SPY WHO LOVED ME, as a failed experiment. It is my understanding that many of his admirers agree with him. Talking to fellow Bond fans, I indeed get the impression that the book is often regarded as a “never happened”, as the one you can easily skip, as the ugly duckling that is neither essential reading in Fleming’s canon nor a book the author himself actually endorsed. In fact, Fleming craved no reprints or paperback versions of the novel and never gave permission to use any of its content for a film adaptation. Quite the abomination this must be then if Fleming himself so adamantly regretted having ever written it. And here I am, about to read this book for the fourth time and, in fact, quite looking forward to it. I pull out the Hamlish score for THE SPY WHO LOVED ME and a romantic jazz compilation of the Bond themes, ready to read the novel in one take and then type out my thoughts, no doubt defying the general consensus that THE SPY WHO LOVED ME truly is a failed experiment.
As Bond fans, we’re used to witnessing Bond interact with people, environments and situations that aren’t particularly commonplace, harmless or dull. Like Bond himself, they exist in a vastly different universe than the one we live and breathe in. They are part of a fantasy, an “unreal reality”, where different or at least “stretched” rules apply. They were extracted from historical authenticity but forced to surrender the boring aspects of our tangible and ordinary daily affairs. We can understand the experience and imagine going through it ourselves, but the total sense of believability is certainly missing. Bond hovers on the edge of the politically real, flirting with the exotically fantastical. He could be a part of this world but we know he really isn’t.
But what if? What if Bond would suddenly walk into our trivial lives, just like that? Imagine the unforgettable experience such an event would bestow on us. It truly is a thought that I find most intriguing. Say you’re dealing with real-life muggers, bullies, rapists, frauds… , pulled from the austere headlines of our depressing and bleak newspapers, and James Bond just happens to be in the neighbourhood. Say there’s a perfectly solid reason for him to want to help you. Imagine the ensuing spectacle. Imagine the real-life scum impudently going against Bond as if they would stand a chance, only to encounter a force of an unusual magnitude. It would be delicious! And that more or less sums up what I find so appealing about THE SPY WHO LOVED ME. For this isn’t James Bond’s story; it’s Vivienne Michel’s. An ordinary Canadian girl, Viv has suffered through a few failed romances and now nomadically voyages through life and the North-American continent, exploring new avenues towards--who knows?--some sort of illumination perhaps. And she’s about to meet James Bond. Just like that. It could have been you or me instead of her really.
On her vague journey, laden with foreboding, Viv stops at a motel run by two despicable people who offer her a quick cash grab for a few days of servitude. The tourist season is drawing to a close and Viv agrees to lock the place down after the couple has left. In fact, the motel will remain closed indefinitely and the owner, a Mister Sanguinetti--sounds “bloody”, no?--will soon come to pick a few valuables up before condemning the motel for good. He shall also bring Viv’s money, so she has no choice but to wait for him anyway. Furthermore, there’s a storm coming, and Viv is all alone in the motel. It’s a cliché, I know, but I’m a sucker for stories set in confined spaces closed off by the elements. It lends a certain sense of claustrophobia and eeriness to the whole thing, and the feeling that the outside is an impenetrable wall of dangerous, electric chaos helps to build a lot of tension too. While Viv is still relatively safe, she contemplates her recent past. In the first part of the book, appropriately called “ME”, she explains how she got there. A lot of stress is put on her first romantic experiences, uncomfortable accounts of personal tragedy and sexual embarrassment. And Fleming certainly knows how to keep me interested. Viv’s second lover, for example, applies an almost clinical rationality to the game of love-making. Arranging an abortion is nothing if not a mathematical process, devoid of empathy or regret. I’m rather amused by Viv’s story, sad though it is, simply because Fleming’s prose can run appetizingly out-of-control. When the author of great spy novels like CASINO ROYALE and FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE unexpectedly starts exploring the realm of pulpy airport novels, I can’t help but be exceptionally fascinated. It’s like watching the world’s greatest surgeon meticulously filleting a black pudding sausage. Something particularly abnormal is going on, but I’m captivated. Against all odds, I find myself really involved in Viv’s love life. Fifty shades of what-the-hell-is-going-on-at-Goldeneye, Ian!?--and more.
But then, “they” come knocking on the door: Sluggsy and Horror, the two-headed goon squad. And they’re up to no good. Part two of the book, “THEM”, makes it clear that Viv has been hoaxed into some insurance fraud. Sanguinetti wants the place burned down and a human sacrifice not only makes the drama more convincing but furthermore allows the blame to be put on someone who’s no longer with us to present a correct account of the events. It’s clear though that Viv’s attractiveness has wetted certain appetites within Sluggsy and Horror and that she’s going to face a seriously hard time before meeting her tragic demise. The two men toy with her, like a predator toys with its food; they humiliate and terrorise her, like the executioner explaining the anatomical details of his work to a condemned man. A futile escape attempt simply makes matters worse for Viv, but then another knock on the door brings renewed hope.
Only in the final third of the book does “he” step in. Part three is suitably called “HE” because this is where James Bond finally makes his entrance. A flat tire, bad weather and a flashy motel sign were all it took to get him there. And within seconds, Bond is fully aware of what’s going on and determined to rescue Viv from her perilous situation. This is precisely what I find so entertaining about the book. The fairly simple thriller has suddenly pulled in James Bond, and with the flip of a page, everything has changed. The man who, in Fleming’s escapist adventures, has fought the likes of Le Chiffre, Drax, Mr Big, SMERSH and Dr No, now humbly walks into this pulp story and we just know that something quite different is about to happen. We’re simultaneously also back on familiar turf, except that Viv, and not the all-knowing third person, is now telling the story. Her initial impressions of Bond, a real man, possibly the first real man she’s ever encountered, are a delight to read. I can easily admit that some of this stuff feels a bit trite and naïve and that the story of this love-struck girl belongs in a young adult novel rather than in a Bond book, but it’s likewise refreshing, in my opinion, to be working from a different premise this time. Yes, I know, I am definitely courting controversy here.
What has always made me laugh though, is that Fleming cannot entirely shake loose the world of Bond. Somehow, 007, a demi-god amongst the likes of Viv, Sluggsy and Horror, grabs the chance to explain to Viv, and thus to us, what brought him there in the first place. Well, the answer is Spectre. The evil organisation has placed itself highest on MI6’s target list after the Thunderball stunt. A few brief paragraphs devoted to Spectre make this awkward book effectively part of the Spectre canon. It amuses me how so many Bond fans choose to ignore this little fact as if their lives depended on it. People can get really excited and upset when THE SPY WHO LOVED ME shows up in any “Spectre omnibus” or “Spectre continuity” discussion. Their heated reactions can be quite entertaining. Either way, Sluggsy and Horror eventually allow Bond to stay for the night, and with that begins another first for Fleming: a straight-forward, late-night B-film climax. For not only is Viv attacked quite like any final girl in any slasher flick, Bond will engage the two men in a shootout amidst heavy rainfall with an almost cinematic sense of drama. Correctly applying the rules of the then not yet fully developed stalker horror genre, Fleming allows his bad guys more than one attempt on Bond and the girl before the final blow is dealt with iron fist. After that, while half the place is burning down, Bond and Viv comfortably settle in one of the rooms still standing, and “sleep” it off. Gentlemen, knight, hero… whichever title befits Bond as the Bogartian “rescuer” of this story’s damsel, he will still demand sinful compensation for his inconveniences like it’s nobody’s business. Fleming applies a twisted logic here; the girl with the troubled sexual past, having come close to painful rape, now genitally pays off her debt. And she doesn’t even make it difficult for Bond. Furthermore, since Bond possesses the magical powers of pelvic healing, she’ll suffer no further anxieties after this. For a beautiful girl, sexual self-repression is just a Bond therapy waiting to happen. Call it silly, disturbing, insulting even; but I find it nothing short of comical, really. Fleming’s idea of a “cautionary tale for younger readers” is one I cannot imagine many parents would strongly endorse, despite the letter Bond leaves behind for Viv and a word of advice from a nice policeman. In fact, I’m having a lot of fun with the notion that this material is what Fleming had in mind to re-educate our morally loose youngsters. He’d be issued a lot of angry, accusing tweets from modern moms and dads if the book had been published with that purpose today.
THE SPY WHO LOVED ME is a short book as it is, and yet, in my opinion, it should probably have been shorter still. In light of Fleming’s original intentions with the book, why not cut loose parts 1 and 2 and jump straight to part 3? Bond knocks on a door, a girl opens, she signals trouble and Bond makes up his mind to help her. He mocks the crooks a bit, gratuitously shares spy secrets with the girl, kills the crooks like John McClane on a bad day and, a mere few hours after arriving, sleeps with the girl because what else is one supposed to do when half the place is on fire. He then drops a letter for breakfast and reprises his journey to never be heard of again. Such a short story might have worked so much better for a lot of people as some kind of off-the-rocker James Bond parody. Had we known nothing about Viv’s past, it could all have played out like child logic. You recognise evil when you see it: of course, you then kill it. It could all have amounted to a big delirious bag of “huh?”. The film adaptation of THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN does something similar in my opinion. Bond arrives in Beirut, some local thugs spot him going backstage at an exotic dance club and then simply attack him for no apparent reason. Like a screwball comedy or a pie throwing scene with Laurel and Hardy, none of it would make much sense but the action would be most satisfying as comic relief.
And yet, I must confess that Viv’s story is almost as enjoyable in my opinion as the nocturnal thriller playing out in the other two parts of the book. Fleming manages surprisingly well to capture the mind of a young woman--or so I’ve been told. By women. But of course, I understand why many a Bond fan disagrees with Fleming’s unusual choices here. Imagine a Star Wars story about Han Solo going to a space dentist to have his wisdom teeth pulled and helping out the dentist’s son with a math problem instead. Fleming took a serious risk indeed, but that, in itself, I can applaud. It must at this point have become quite difficult for the author to spout out a new and terrifying Bond story every year. Any change in style or direction may have presented a welcome new challenge. Fleming did apologise to his editor for the ease with which he had written the story, but perhaps that “ease” had worked therapeutically. Fleming’s state of mind was furthermore pretty dark, or so it would seem because, despite the pulp magazine qualities many attribute to this book, it’s also one of the more violent and sordid ones. While the likes of CASINO ROYALE and MOONRAKER were quite tonally balanced, THE SPY WHO LOVED ME leans far more towards everything that’s filthy and wrong. The novel almost perversely targets Viv’s sexual insecurities and unlike Wint and Kidd, Sluggsy and Horror represent nastiness over competence, runaway sadism over controlled, professional ferocity. This is where Fleming brings the loose cannons into play, and Bond is no exception. He could have easily walked away and left this banal crime scene to the police and never given a second thought about who got killed because of his inaction. Instead, he chooses to stay. Sympathy? Heroism? Or a perverse bit of opportunism? Lovely girl, in some sort of trouble, and two thugs; i.e. target practice and some cheap sexual gratification in one? Like taking candy from a baby. I suppose it’s wisest to give none of this the proverbial second thought. Maybe we oughtn’t to read much more into this than Ian Fleming working out a personal artistic problem and reaching the conclusion, midway, that he should just finish the damned thing and call it a day. There’s always that next novel to seek redemption if so desired.
Whatever the case, Fleming took a leap of faith and if nothing else, that right there commands respect. Obviously, I wouldn’t have encouraged the man to keep straying ever farther away from his usual ‘forte’, but maybe this “failed experiment” is precisely what Fleming himself needed to get back on track with ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE. Now then, judging the book as a more or less stand-alone experience--I won’t push the Spectre canon argument to the point of being marked for death by angry Fleming fans--I can only say that it all works for me. Perhaps the fact that I have spent the previous weeks reading almost nothing but Fleming’s novels in rapid succession, has generated in me a curious yearning for something different, something short but wild, something more experimental and also more controversial. Perhaps that's the main reason I’m always fostering that latent desire to read THE SPY WHO LOVED ME when working my way through Fleming’s books. But even when I disregard the black stallion in a stable full of lily-white mares, I will admit, at the risk of losing all credibility amongst my peers, that I rather like the book. The story is economically written, fast-paced and actually rather tense. It’s clearly its own thing and not a thing that many Fleming fans enjoy. That’s perfectly fine of course. One doesn’t except an expensive restaurant to serve fried chicken either, but fried chicken can be good regardless of where it’s served or eaten. And just this once I’ll have it in the Bond series, and I’ll enjoy it. Just this once. Though it doesn’t belong here. But it answers a big question of mine: what if? And I can’t help having a good time with it. This is where you and I disagree no doubt. Please don’t hate me for it.
All things considered, this relatively short book consumed enough of my time to leave me defenceless against the burden of sleep. But it was quality time. I can’t help wondering what a direct adaptation of this novel, say for a television series, would be like. In the hands of capable filmmakers, it could actually be great in my opinion. It would be that “weird” one, the “Episode 8” of TWIN PEAKS’ third season. But it would, for a short while, make the world of Bond feel closer to our world, even if we can hopefully be spared from sleazy motel invasion nightmares. In any event, I’m happy that I can now move on to ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE and YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE, another two-book highlight in Fleming’s oeuvre if you ask me. We’re far from done with complicated women but it’ll be all spy fantasy again, exotic locations and such. I’ll have to refuel before I embark on that mission though, so a good night’s rest will serve me well. This is “ME”, the reviewer who loves you, signing off.
8/10
DD's 2018 book ranking
1) Casino Royale - 10/10
2) Moonraker - 9.5/10
3) From Russia With Love - 9/10
4) Dr No - 8.5/10
5) The Spy Who Loved Me - 8/10
6) Live And Let Die - 8/10
7) Diamonds Are Forever - 7.5/10
8) Goldfinger - 7/10
9) For Your Eyes Only - 7/10
10) Thunderball - 6.5/10
Nicely done! I'm glad you found the positive in this one, because I'm fond of it too, ranking it comfortably within the top half.
I'm happy you liked the review. Yes, I have a soft spot for the book, unlike most other people I have talked to. ;-)
Me too, and I'd be up for that as well, though doubtful it will ever happen. It might work as a TV miniseries I guess.
You were totally chasin' rainbows, man.
Have you read it? I am not far into it yet, but Eco is usually good and it looks promising.
I haven t read any of those yet.
Have read it, but cannot recall much but generally I do enjoy an Eco book.
Right now I'm finally reading Jonas Jonasson's Hundred-Year Old Man Who Climbed out of the Window and Disappeared. Absolutely hilarious, somewhere between Larsson's Millennium trilogy, a Tarantino script, and A FISH CALLED WANDA.
My favourite Chandler. I love them all but this one is really special.
Have you seen the Daily Express strip version? It fills in more on Bond's mission prior to meeting Miss Michelle.
And it is a great title!
It's very good but my favorite are The Big Sleep and The Lady in the Lake so far. The Long Goodbye is maybe the most existentialist and the most literary.