What are you reading?

Revelator · July 2018

Thunderfinger wrote: »

all the presidents, from Washington to Trump

Proof of devolution.

Dragonpol · July 2018

Revelator wrote: »

Thunderfinger wrote: »

all the presidents, from Washington to Trump

Proof of devolution.

We have that in Northern Ireland. It really doesn't work too good here.

chrisisall · July 2018

DarthDimi wrote: »

DD's 2018 book reading

BOOK 13

THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN
by Ian Fleming

Ian Fleming passed away on 12 August 1964, just half a year after trying to complete his twelfth James Bond novel, THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN. He was only 56. Chronic pain and a weak heart had prevented him from being the prolific typist he had once been. It should come as no surprise then that his final Bond novel would also be one of his shorter books. Fleming had furthermore been powerless to re-edit and polish his early drafts, something he was used to doing with strenuous resolve. Consequently, Fleming’s publisher sent his half-finished script to writer Kingsley Amis, who was left rather disenchanted after reading it. Amis pointed out errors and underexplored subtextual themes and furthermore felt underwhelmed by Scaramanga as the latest addition to the pantheon of grotesque and larger-than-life villains. Yet even Amis and the editor of the book failed to notice some narrative contradictions which were quite clearly the result of Fleming’s shortened attention span and less-than-usual daily output. Setups from a few pages ago can, after all, be more easily overlooked if the mind, whirling from agony and physical distress, isn’t fully committed. The book never really had much of a chance of being another great spy novel, of being authored in the tradition of the “novel to end all spy novels”, CASINO ROYALE, and so it failed to impress. And yet, it is the very first James Bond novel I can remember reading; and despite its apparent flaws, I quite clearly remember being left thrilled. Approaching the end of my Fleming “retrospective”, I’m not at all discouraged to start reading. [Note: I finished reading this book somewhere in February but haven’t found the time to revisit my review until now.] I select Barry’s THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN score and, somewhat reluctantly, Legrand’s NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN score--I really wanted to go through my entire catalogue of Bond scores, even the bad ones--and pull my trusted reading lamp close enough. I will read this book over the span of just one night, for maximum effect as it were.

It’s been almost a year since Bond had disappeared off the political radar, having been severely injured in his final confrontation with Blofeld. Suffering from amnesia, Bond was well on his way to settling into a nondescript Japanese community, when a newspaper headline suddenly lured him to the Soviet Union in search for answers. Once there, Bond was caught and brainwashed. Now, with all hope gone of ever finding him, MI6 receives an unexpected phone call. A man claims to be James Bond. He’s back in London and wants to set up a meeting with M. His identity confirmed, M allows Bond to see him despite Moneypenny’s warning that something’s not quite right about the man. During the cross-examination, Bond pulls a cyanide pistol on M, clearly under the spell of Soviet re-programming. Fortunately, M is able to swiftly respond and bring down a glass shield for his protection. Bond is dragged away and M immediately evaluates 007 as a sick man and one who must be cured. M, whom we now learn is Admiral Sir Miles Messervy, isn’t ready to give up on Bond yet.

While brainwashing, hints of premonitions, a high-tech mechanical deus ex machina, and an all-forgiving chief sound like the perfect cocktail for a Bond spoof, I am always extremely excited to read these first bits of the book. In fact, the first time I read these passages, I was caught with a look of hurt bewilderment on my face. It’s a very intense opener for sure, and one which transforms last novel’s melodramatic aftermath into a snowball and tosses it into the fire. Had Fleming regretted his cliffhanger ending of YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE, or had higher ambitions been replaced by less arduous alternatives? Imagine a young and energetic Fleming, taking an amnesic Bond to the next level; The Bond Identity if you want. Conservative fans like myself are probably satisfied that Fleming opted for this rather unfussy yet still quite thrilling way out. In almost every novel so far, Bond had always had a very good rapport with M. Twice already, M had dealt Bond the proverbial second chance, almost exposing a paternal trust in his best agent.

By sending Bond into enemy land, only to have him come back ready to kill M, Fleming seemed interested in exploring Bond’s dark side. I have read essays which claim that this book’s central theme is drugs used as a political tool, but I disagree. I would rather submit that this book’s central theme is a Jungian exploration of Bond’s “shadow”, his “id”. Maybe the Russians didn’t so much indoctrinate Bond as they merely excavated his unconscious beast. Over the span of many decades, both the literary and cinematic Bond has had to swallow a lot of criticism aimed at the jolting contrast between his gentleman charms and his cold detachment as an assassin. Mightn’t it be that THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN tries to examine precisely how well Bond has that shadow side under control? Later in the novel, he’ll have the opportunity to kill Scaramanga, but ultimately doesn’t; yet despite displaying an otherwise clear mind, Bond has no compunction about taking M’s life. Then again, I might be reading too much into this, as some essays make his failure to kill Scaramanga out as one of the narrative flaws caused by Fleming’s illness. Whatever the case, the opener of this book, even with its indications of unintended pastiche, is a throat-grabber and remains one of my favorite opening sections of all the Fleming books. It’s astonishing that none of this has ever found its way into the final script for a film adaptation.

Mulling over the entire situation, M finally decides to send a deprogrammed Bond to Jamaica. His mission is quite simple: kill Francisco "Pistols" Scaramanga. The latter, also known as “the man with the golden gun”, has assassinated several SIS agents and must be terminated. This seemingly impossible mission--Scaramanga is not going to be an eager target--will be Bond’s chance to prove himself as a 00 agent. Then again, so had his mission to investigate the disappearance of Strangways been and so had his mission to obtain information from the Japanese secret service been. This is the third time that M offers Bond a record cleaning opportunity rather than have him dismissed indefinitely. And like last time, the underlying idea is that this mission could prove a lot more challenging than one might surmise. To kill a man is one thing, to kill a man with many fingers in many pies down in Jamaica while himself an expert shooter and no-doubt constantly on the lookout for potential enemies is something else entirely. Granted, it doesn’t exactly sound like the most original plot in the series, but it’s Bond in his bare essence. Investigation? Winning at cards? Smuggling? No, he must simply kill a man. Whether he carries out his assignment successfully or not will ultimately determine his future with MI6. Raw murder rather than smart planning or clever deduction; again, Bond’s Jungian shadow will have to come to the foreground.

Once more we travel to Fleming’s beloved Jamaica and knowing this is the author’s final novel, my heart is filled with melancholy and grief. But lo and behold, Bond finds Scaramanga in a brothel of all things! Having just performed the deed, the flamboyant Scaramanga makes his theatrical introduction with brutality and aggressiveness towards a few rather adorable birds. What kind of man celebrates his horizontal pleasures with the very hormonal screams they are supposed to silence? What kind of man cools his frustrations by shooting down pet animals in cold blood? I assert that Fleming, in his obsolete understanding of the subject at least, is trying to suggest that Scaramanga is actually gay and very much conflicted, resulting in heterosexual impotence and the need to take it out on much weaker targets. Kingsley Amis even went so far as to assume that Scaramanga is attracted to Bond, which may explain why he offers Bond to come work for him and why, on many occasions, he will allow Bond a few suspicious actions before finally satisfying himself that the man is indeed an enemy. Either way, if it hadn’t been spelled out by M and the book’s title that this is to be our main villain, one might actually have mistaken Scaramanga for a mere henchman rather than the big bad from this brutal yet somewhat insipid introduction.

Still, Scaramanga is not just an assassin. Fleming, as well as the people making the loose 1974 film adaptation, realized that it would be for the best to make Scaramanga a little more than that, and so it turns out he’s actually part of a crime syndicate involving American gangsters as well as a KGB operative. Now working as Scaramanga’s assistant at some local resort and going by the name of Mark Hazard, Bond swiftly learns that this syndicate occupies itself with all sorts of schemes, one of which is to supply drugs to Rastafarians who, in return, help to undermine Western interests in the Caribbean's sugar industry. This has actually been equated to the plot of Fleming’s short story RISICO, in which drugs were also used as a tool to weaken the West. In fact, Scaramanga has himself been paralleled with Von Hammerstein, the villain in FOR YOUR EYES ONLY. I’m not sure I’m willing to go that far since so little of that drug trade actually matters in this story. And we at least get to know Scaramanga a whole lot better than Von Hammerstein, who’s barely a character in FOR YOUR EYES ONLY and more like a sitting duck for Bond.

We’re also happy to learn that the CIA is covertly shadowing Scaramanga too, at the same resort in fact. Felix Leiter makes his final appearance in this book alongside one Nick Nicholson. (Not a midget!) They have taps on Scaramanga and are willing to lend Bond some assistance. Fleming offers Bond his useful allies pretty quickly, removing much of the tension that could have been built otherwise. Knowing that Bond is technically not on his own also means he’s in much less danger than Fleming wants us to think when Bond is fumbling for answers during an interrogation by Scaramanga’s partners. The apparent danger of the mission now effectively truncated, I am surprised that Bond can meet yet another ally, and one even less likely than Leiter: Mary Goodnight! Bond’s attractive secretary was conveniently stationed in Kingston and decided to drop by once she’d caught hints of Bond’s presence in Jamaica. This is of course not a very smart thing to do; if James Bond is abroad, he’s also very likely conducting a mission and interfering with that might be hazardous to him as well as to her. But lest we forget, Bond hadn’t been too lucky with women so far, and perhaps it’s time for him to settle with one after all. Mary Goodnight is described as kind, compliant and beautiful, everything Fleming had resented in a Bond girl so far. Goodnight is neither troubled nor of a different sexual persuasion. She offers Bond no challenge whatsoever. Maybe, after a long list of difficult girls, Fleming was ready to pin Bond down to this lovely girl whom Bond himself describes as “an angel”.

Amidst sweet team-ups with allies and potential love interests, some killing must still be done. Bond’s Mark Hazard will dodge accusations like a pro, arrange a very erotic session of “belly-licking” and pretend to believe the many lies spewing from Scaramanga’s mouth. And suddenly, the story shapes itself up for a quick finale. Scaramanga has caught Bond with Goodnight, and while there should be nothing wrong with this healthy man seeking solace in the arms of a willing woman, Scaramanga, spurred on by his associate Mr. Hendriks’s suspicions of Bond, decides the time has come to rid himself of “Mr. Hazard”. Or could it be that Amis’ assertion that Scaramanga is attracted to Bond is true and drives him to that fatal point of jealousy that almost invites a crime of passion rather than a clean murder to protect his enterprises? It’s also around this time that Fleming’s faltering concentration reveals itself through perhaps the biggest slip-up of the book. Bond finds a way to arrange Scaramanga’s gun to fire blank the next time he’d use it, yet in the following chapter, the gun releases all its ammunition perfectly. Even if Scaramanga had noticed the missing round, it wouldn’t have been a bad move if Fleming had told us.

At last, Bond, Scaramanga and his associates take a small train for a ride down the swamplands, while the man with the golden gun is spinning out the final thread of his convoluted tapestry of deception. Bond understands that he’s got no way out, and when the naked body of a girl looking a lot like Goodnight is about to get crushed by the train, Bond, temporarily paralyzed by the horror of it all, has to come up with a solution fast. What follows, despite the lackluster middle section of the book, is an exciting climax which time and again manages to keep me glued to the paper. For Bond and Scaramanga, it becomes a battle between their darkest sides, between their “shadows”, because it’s clearly kill or be killed. Rarely ever before were Bond’s chances for survival so 50/50 as they are now. Le Chiffre was killed by others, Mr. Big was eaten by fish with an appetite, Drax exploded with the submarine targeted by the Moonraker, Dr. No never saw that load of bird dung coming, and so on; but in this climax, both Bond and Scaramanga stand an almost equal chance of killing the other one first. No hesitation, compassion or alternative modus of disarming the opponent are allowed. And I’m at the edge of my seat. The book may have been without fiber and vitamins for most of it, but the ending comes fast enough and delivers, albeit on a very small scale, all the goods. Should the final Fleming Bond adventure, if the author had come fully prepared for that of course, been grandiose and full of bombast and explosions? Not in my opinion. In many ways, the simple but well-crafted tension of this climax mirrors the torture scene of CASINO ROYALE, even if this book doesn’t hold a candle to that first and, to this day, still best of Fleming’s works. It’s in his own good tradition that Fleming shies away from “bigness” and that plays to good effect.

The book ends in the hospital, where Bond is recovering from his wounds sustained during the final fight with Scaramanga and his partners. M lets him know that he might be knighted but Bond, not quite ready to give up his precious anonymity yet, declines. Instead, he contemplates a life with Mary Goodnight. Is she, at last, going to be the one; his Tracy and his Vesper, only less conspicuously tumbled into his life? Is Fleming working towards a place of rest and eternal happiness too? The final sentence of the book is a bit confusing in that respect. “For Bond, the same view would always pall.” No doubt Ian Fleming was smart enough a man to realize that his own end was near. I’m therefore left wondering if, in his most optimistic fantasies, he was actually planning more Bond novels. He had considered putting a full stop to Bond after FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE with a bit of an ambiguous ending suggesting Bond’s death but leaving the possibility of survival intact as well. There’s no such thing here, no dramatic punch like the ending of ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE, no cliffhanger ending like in YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE. Fleming instead pulled all the action from the stage and left Bond with a typical but concluding thought. Perhaps Bond really has reached the end of the line as far as the author was concerned.

It’s all over fast. THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN never does a lot of back-and-forth fighting; it never sets up major conflicts and neither does it introduce many complicated subplots which must all be carefully dealt with. It’s an uncomplicated book, working as a linear sequence of simple problems and quick solutions. Having read the final sentence of the book, I couldn’t help but snap my head around in the direction of my collection of Fleming books and think back, with some nostalgia, to all those vibrant and energetic adventures like GOLDFINGER, MOONRAKER and DR NO, high-concept and packed with dense prose. In comparison, THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN feels like an afterthought, a respectable but fragmentary effort by an author whose spirit was in the right place but who would never be capable of finding those peaks ever again. The power that had burned so brightly inside was nothing but a dying ember of grey ash anymore. And yet, despite all these unflattering comments, I still consider myself a fan of this novel. If THE SPY WHO LOVED ME is the “ugly duckling” of the series, THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN is most certainly the “underdog” of the series; and I like them both. While the former has always intrigued me as a failed but fascinating experiment, the latter provides some of the best character studies of Bond and kicks things off with an unexpected bang. The middle section of the book drags a bit, but since it’s neither protracted nor badly written, it doesn’t present much of a problem either. It serves as both the epilogue to a stunner of an opener and the prologue to an almost equally tense climax. In the film adaptation, Bond versus Scaramanga took place in the notorious funhouse, one of the only truly original merits of the film; I can see what they did there. I also understand the symmetrical positioning of both of the funhouse sequences. And I certainly understand that the rushed follow-up to the somewhat silly LIVE AND LET DIE could not begin with Bond trying to kill M. Still, I wish that someday, a Bond film will make use of the plot with which this book opens. It sounds like something out of a cartoon but put in the right hands, it could actually work.

Put in the right hands… James Bond was definitely put in the right hands; Fleming’s hands. Though I have yet to review a second short story collection, this is technically the final novel in the Fleming series. Bond may still be alive and in fact, go on to have many more literary and cinematic adventures, but Ian Fleming won’t be joining him. THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN is where it ends for him. And it’s not a bad place to end things either. If Fleming had been able to type like he used to, and if he had managed to rework his drafts a few times, this book could have been a whole lot stronger. There’s great potential in here; it’s on the page and it’s there for anyone willing to forgive a man in pain for not being quite up to the task anymore. This may be the exceptional case where the book should be considered for what it could have been rather than for what it is. As a young boy, I found it just long and simple enough to get through; and I was very excited from start to finish. This book motivated me to keep on reading the Fleming novels at an age where reading a book was about the last thing I wanted to do. And I still am a fan of this book. My criticism of the middle section aside, THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN is a book I always look forward to, knowing very well that has its flaws, but also that it will still provide many good things. To a Bond fan like myself, this book proves once again that Ian Fleming really was the man with the golden typewriter.

Thank you, Ian.

7,5/10

DD's 2018 book ranking
1) Casino Royale - 10/10
2) On Her Majesty's Secret Service - 9.5/10
3) Moonraker - 9.5/10
4) From Russia With Love - 9/10
5) Dr No - 8.5/10
6) You Only Live Twice - 8/10
7) The Spy Who Loved Me - 8/10
8) Live And Let Die - 8/10
9) Diamonds Are Forever - 7.5/10
10) The Man With The Golden Gun - 7.5/10
11) Goldfinger - 7/10
12) For Your Eyes Only - 7/10
13) Thunderball - 6.5/10

Thanks for this detailed review. You put so much into it... wow.

SaintMark · July 2018

Have now read all four Navarone books
Guns of Navarone 9/10
Force ten from Navarone 8/10
Storm force from Navarone 6/10
Thunderbolt from Navarone 7,5/10

The first two by Alistair Maclean the master of adventure books and the last two late in the previous century by Sam Llewellyn, and they are actually quite good and nice continuation novels.

Thunderfinger · July 2018

THE SEVEN PRINCIPLES OF MAN (1909) by Annie Besant

Thunderfinger · July 2018

MAN VISIBLE AND INVISIBLE (1902) by C. W. Leadbeter.

Thunderfinger · August 2018

REINCARNATION (1892) by Annie Besant

Revelator · August 2018

Further proof that Thunderfinger is a Necromancer in his spare time.

Dragonpol · August 2018

Revelator wrote: »

Further proof that Thunderfinger is a Necromancer in his spare time.

I always thought that was public knowledge!

Thunderfinger · August 2018

ASTRAL PLANE (1894) by C. W. Leadbeter.

Lancaster007 · August 2018

Gateway (1976) by Frederik Pohl. Golancz SF Masterworks. A Hugo and Nebula award-winner so hoping for a good read, only about 40 pages in but so far so good. Read the author's previous book Man Plus which was okay but hoping for better things with Gateway.

Thunderfinger · August 2018

A TEXTBOOK OF THEOSOPHY (1911) by C. W. Leadbeter

4EverBonded · August 2018

Lighten up, dear @Thunderfinger. I can suggest Jeeves and Wooster for any time. :)

I am currently reading Lee Child's Jack Reacher in The Hard Way (for about the fifth time).

Alan007 · August 2018

I've just finished John cleese - so anyway. No idea how many Christmas' ago I got it now but finished now and onto forever and a day

Agent_99 · August 2018

I'm also on to Forever and a Day at last!

NicNac · August 2018

Knocking a few Jo Nesbo books off. Currently reading the first Harry Hole book, 'The Bat'.

Thunderfinger · August 2018

THE DEVACHANIC PLANE (1902) by C. W. Leadbeter.

Ludovico · August 2018

Tricks by Ed McBain. 87th Precinct novel set on Halloween night.

Thunderfinger · August 2018

annie-besant-karma-1-728.jpg?cb=1266524218

1895

4EverBonded · August 2018

A very small book, I see, @Thunderfinger. ;)

I am just starting The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

Fire_and_Ice_Returns · August 2018

Thunderfinger · August 2018

That is a funny book.

THE ANCIENT WISDOM (1911) by Annie Besant.

dragonsky · August 2018

NicNac wrote: »

Knocking a few Jo Nesbo books off. Currently reading the first Harry Hole book, 'The Bat'.

Please share your thoughts once you finish it

Fire_and_Ice_Returns wrote: »

Honestly I never got the hype for this book :( I tried reading it few times and I never fully got into it :(

Lancaster007 · August 2018

To Catch A King: Charles II's Great Escape by Charles Spencer. A sort of follow up to his previous history, Killers of The King: The Men Who Dared to Execute Charles I.Chronicling Charles II's flight for freedom after the battle of Worcester. KoTK was a fantastic read and this one is shaping up nicely too!

Thunderfinger · August 2018

First published in 2000. This book is set in the 13th century, and is very enjoyable as Eco usually is.

DarthDimi · August 2018

DD's 2018 book reading

BOOK 14

OCTOPUSSY AND THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS
by Ian Fleming

A second collection of short stories by Ian Fleming was published posthumously. One might easily suspect a lower quality afterthought of Fleming’s publisher to earn a few coins off the man’s far too early departure from this world. And yet, these short stories provided some titles and iconic scenes for the EON film adaptations. They rely much less on action and exotic travels than the novels and most if not all of the shorts stories in the FOR YOUR EYES ONLY collection, allowing for more introspective moments we can share with Bond. Most notably, of course, is the addition of two stories Fleming wrote for publication in Sotheby’s annual journal and the tourism section of certain newspapers. At least one of these commissioned stories barely qualifies as a story. It has furthermore been suggested that these stories take place between the events of ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE and THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN, in what we can safely call the darkest period of Bond’s (and possibly Fleming's) life. In any event, I keep John Barry’s scores for OCTOPUSSY and THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS alternating in my playlist and sit down for the final volume in Fleming’s book collection.

OCTOPUSSY
Dozens of years after killing a mountain guide in a successful pursuit of Nazi gold, Major Dexter Smythe is visited by Bond in his Jamaican house. The frozen corpse of the murdered guided has thawed out of the ice and the deceased was recognized by Bond as the personal friend who taught him to ski a long time ago. Bond confronts Smythe with his crime and after hearing the man’s story, leaves him with a binary choice: suicide or court martial. Smythe retreats to the coral reef where he enjoys the dubious pleasure of feeding his pet octopus, “Octopussy”, but a scorpion fish stings him and injects a fatal dose of poison, whereupon Octopussy pulls the body of Smythe underwater. His death is written down as suicide.

This story is fairly unique in that it wasn’t shown but told in the film OCTOPUSSY. The short version of it was used by the titular character of that film to explain her desire to meet with Bond in person, grateful that he gave her father, Major Smythe, a choice. I am quite amused by how this short story, barely featuring Bond and not at all critical to the original plot of the 1983 movie, still managed to find a convenient way into the film script. In my opinion it’s not even too far removed from a “Fleming twist” that Bond should team up with the daughter of the man he indeed gave a choice but not much of an attractive one. As such, the Octopussy character from the film fits well into the long tradition of girls with a bit of an uneven past, hers actually intersecting with Bond’s. But the short story hints at nothing of the sort. No women, no romantic prospects of any sort; the story prefers cold pessimism with a twist of irony.

To be fair, it’s also unique in Fleming’s writing, with the exception of THE SPY WHO LOVED ME, that Bond serves as a mere third person. Major Smythe is the main character, a man who is one half melancholy and one half booze. I can imagine that Fleming allowed some of these traits to reflect his own state of mind (and body) when he wrote the story in early 1962. Bond’s dark intervention crowbars Smythe’s life into a sudden finality. Bond’s vindictive intentions are barely compensated by his willingness to offer Smythe the honorable way out. The sunny location stands almost perpendicular to the sinister tension built up by Bond’s mere presence.

I always read this story with some evil fondness, a belated payback on an entirely different level than your usual vendetta plot. And yet I’m not sure that it really is a tale of revenge; rather, it would seem that this is an ironical account of a man whose past atrocities don’t keep him from taking good care of the very animal that will eventually drag him down, literally in this case. How do you make amends? You can’t, is what Fleming seems to be saying. In any case, I may be reading far too much into this story, but then again I rather like it. Little happens, but a lot is said, and the ironical ending never fails to please me.

THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS
Bond is sent to Berlin, equipped with a brand new sniper rifle with an infrared scope. ‘272’ wants to defect but an assassin named ‘Trigger’ will be ready to shoot him. Three nights in a row, Bond is on the lookout from his hotel room, waiting for an opportunity to kill ‘Trigger’ while ‘272’ is switching sides. The first two nights, ‘272’ is nowhere in sight. Rather, an all-women orchestra catches Bond’s notice, especially a beautiful blonde cellist. The third night, ‘272’ crosses the border and, as expected, ‘Trigger’ is ready for the fatal shot. Bond spots ‘Trigger’ but hesitates to shoot when the assassin turns out to be the beautiful cellist. He ultimately disarms her without fatally wounding her, allowing ‘272’ to run to safety anyway. The mission is a success, and yet it isn’t, because Bond has failed to take out ‘Trigger’. The story ends with Bond hoping that M will fire him.

Famously recreated for the 1987 film adaptation starring Timothy Dalton, this story is not unlike the short story FOR YOUR EYES ONLY in that Bond is once again used as a ruthless instrument of death. Rather than doing some witty spying, 007 must simply aim and pull a trigger. It’s all the more interesting that he will eventually disobey--to a certain extent--in order to keep a beautiful girl alive, regardless of what her immediate future will bring now that she has failed to accomplish her task. But the true shocker of the story comes with Bond’s final musings, the cynical contemplation about being fired. Though resignation has been on Bond’s agenda before, most notably at the start of ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE, the rationale this time seems to be his disgust with missions like these rather than his disgruntlement about a man of his skills not being used in an adequate manner. Dalton’s Bond managed to produce a somewhat fraudulent smile, but when reading this story, I sense that Fleming’s Bond is dead serious about it.

In only a few pages, Fleming captures the essence of his more nuanced take on Bond, a Bond who improvises in spite of his mission. I’m very fond of the build-up of this story even though it’s a dead giveaway that the third night is when the action will take place and the cellist is somehow going to prove crucial to the mission. I also love how this short story was very well served in the film of the same title, effectively planting the seeds for an unusually romantic relationship between Bond and the girl. Both of my copies of the book omitted the illustrations from the final print, but I’m happy with the prose alone. THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS is a very decent story, never dull or pointlessly instructive but rather exciting and with a simple but very serviceable climax.

THE PROPERTY OF A LADY
Maria Freudenstein is a double agent hired by MI6 to transmit intel to Washington, but she copies the messages and sends them to Moscow. She doesn’t know, however, that the messages are fakes. An important KGB figure attends an auction at Sotheby’s to help “adjust” the price so that it equals what the Russians intend to pay the girl. Bond is there too, namely to spot the man and have him forced out of the country.

It’s clear that Fleming wrote this story to shape a thrilling context in which he could educate us about auctioneering and Sotheby’s. And yet, the fate of Freudenstein was revealed in THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN as a brutal one, presenting a rare case of tying up loose but fairly short ends from one story in another. All things considered, it’s pretty amazing that the filmmakers of OCTOPUSSY managed to more or less write this short story into the final script without slipping into boredom. It’s not Fleming’s most exciting bit of writing but I can easily imagine it juicing up a journal for Sotheby’s.

007 IN NEW YORK
Right. Because I’m reading the books in order of publication, this is technically the last “story” of Fleming’s that I get to enjoy. Now, let me be perfectly clear about this one: I know what it is and even better what it isn’t. This is not a “story” by any stretch of the imagination. Rather, this is a short travelogue piece disguised as a spy tale premise, for it does little more than give Bond a reason to visit NY. In reality, this is Fleming doing a bit on the city he had previously spoken much less favorably of. The result serves as an amusing account of some New York sightseeing from Bond’s perspective.

I’ll be honest, I’m not a diligent tourist and I couldn’t care less about reading up on places until I have actually visited them myself. I will always respect Fleming’s detailed descriptions of locations in his Bond books, but there’s a reason I won’t include THRILLING CITIES in my Fleming retrospective (nor THE DIAMOND SMUGGLERS for that matter). Since 007 IN NEW YORK is little more than travel literature, it’s hard work for me sit through this short story, more like homework than leisure. Yes, you have read it correctly; I’m calling this extremely short story hard work.

But wait! The best, I must confess, I have kept for last. No matter how often I have thus far read the short story, I’m never not flabbergasted by Fleming’s surprising inclusion of … a recipe for scrambled eggs. Okay, a healthy lifestyle and Ian Fleming never went hand in hand but it sounds to me like Fleming’s butter consumption alone was enough to ruinously block those arteries after a single meal. My way of scrambling eggs involves a little less fat and a lot more protein. But I digress.

Look, I have taken comfort in the notion that Fleming must have been typing out this story with a perpetual smile on his face…

FINAL THOUGHTS
… and that’s how I’m turning the final page in this final book in my Fleming collection--with a smile on my face. Of course I’m saddened that this is it; no more Fleming Bond! Yes, Fleming passed away at far too young an age and yes, his untimely death could probably have been avoided. But as I’m taking this book back to my collection, I’m also fondly reminiscing about when I decided, a few weeks ago, to pick up CASINO ROYALE for the umpteenth time and work my way through Fleming’s books once again. And once again, I had a blast doing it. These books keep giving, and in fact, the more you read them, the more you can find the brilliance in Fleming’s writings that many contemporary critics failed to spot. CASINO ROYALE remains my favorite book of his. It is such a well-paced, energetic and interesting book, multi-layered and cleverly structured. But I would be wrong in saying that it’s all downhill after this one. Books like ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE and YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE still supply the goods.

OCTOPUSSY AND THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS remains of a very high quality too, but only if one approaches this collection with seriously adjusted expectations. A little understanding of what Fleming was trying to do here is crucial in not getting utterly confused by for example 007 IN NEW YORK and its recipe for scrambled eggs. This isn’t the best book of the bunch by a long shot, but the final book in a published series can easily be a lot worse than this. Give it a try, see whether you like it or not, but don’t worry: it’s short enough to get through in one sitting.

I’m not done. I have made it my business to finally read COLONEL SUN by Kingsley Amis, a book which is so often included in publications as the spiritual sequel to Fleming’s novels. After THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN and OCTOPUSSY AND THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS, it’s back to a slightly lengthier book, so I won’t be unwrapping it tonight. But I will get there…

7/10

DD's 2018 book ranking
1) Casino Royale - 10/10
2) On Her Majesty's Secret Service - 9.5/10
3) Moonraker - 9.5/10
4) From Russia With Love - 9/10
5) Dr No - 8.5/10
6) You Only Live Twice - 8/10
7) The Spy Who Loved Me - 8/10
8) Live And Let Die - 8/10
9) Diamonds Are Forever - 7.5/10
10) The Man With The Golden Gun - 7.5/10
11) Goldfinger - 7/10
12) Octopussy And The Living Daylights - 7/10
13) For Your Eyes Only - 7/10
14) Thunderball - 6.5/10

Thunderfinger · August 2018

A STUDY IN KARMA (1917) by Annie Besant

SaintMark · August 2018

Currently reading the Jack Higgins Liam Devlin stories:
The eagle has landed
Touch the devil
Confessional
The Eagle has flown (the sequel to The eagle has landed)

NicNac · August 2018

dragonsky wrote: »

NicNac wrote: »

Knocking a few Jo Nesbo books off. Currently reading the first Harry Hole book, 'The Bat'.

Please share your thoughts once you finish it

The Bat is probably the least involving Harry Hole books. The author wanders too much away from the actual plot, and at times it becomes too much the travelogue and commentary on modern Australian culture.
I've read Cockroaches, Nemesis, The Snowman and The Redbreast since and these are all fantastic thrillers, with convoluted but totally satisfying plots. Love Jo Nesbo.

Thunderfinger · September 2018

DIE WAHLVERWANDSCHAFTEN (1809) by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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