Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen - we're in for another wild ride of racism and misogyny in the second James Bond book.

James Bond dives into the world of "Negro criminals," traveling from New York City to Florida to the grand finale in Jamaica. All this is on account of some old gold coins from a legendary pirate treasure showing up. The British and American governments have the idea that Mr. Big is in possession of the treasure - a huge, towering black man whose nickname comes not only from his size but his initials: his real name is Buonaparte Ignace Gallia.

The racism in this book is off the charts. I started off my reading by marking down each racist comment but stopped when I realized I was marking every page. Bond constantly refers to black people as "superstitious," and boasts that - unlike them - he grew out of being afraid of the dark as a child. He says this because there is a huge, huge practice of voodoo going on in this book. No matter where Bond goes - NYC, Florida, or Jamaica - every black man he meets (he never talks with a black woman) is absolutely certain and afraid of zombies, voodoo curses, and witchcraft.

The n-word is also used regularly, with one chapter even entitled "N***** Heaven."

The only black women that appear in the book are sexual, animalistic creatures. One is a stripper who entertains in a club in Harlem. She dances to voodoo drumming. She is described by Bond as having a face like a pug (dog), which he specifically refers to as a "chienne" face - that is, the face of a bitch. As in, literally he's comparing her to a female dog. Not "bitch" like "unpleasant female." So this woman does this striptease and is working the (black, male) audience into an almost uncontrollable sexual frenzy. She's (at the end) ordered to strip completely naked but at that moment the lights go out, Bond gets kidnapped and that's all we get about her.

The only other black woman in the book is on a date with her boyfriend at a bar. Bond is spying on them - not because they are of any importance but because he feels like "he's in enemy territory" in this "Negro world" and he wants to get a better idea of ... I don't know ... what motivations, dreams, and desires black people have? The conversation between the man and his date is rife with ... I don't know what it's called ... when authors write out an accent phonetically.

"Cmon, honey," wheedled the girl. "How come yuh-all's actin' so tahd tonight?"
"Guess ah jusit nacherlly gits tahd listenin' at yuch," said the man languidly. "Why'nt yuh hush yo' mouff'n let me 'joy mahself 'n peace n' quiyet."
"Is yuh wan' me tuh go 'way, honey?"
"Yuh kin suit yo sweet self."
"Aw, honey," pleaded the girl. "Don' ack mad at me, honey. Ah was fixin' to treat yuh tonight..."

This conversation goes on for a while, and it's basic premise is the "girl" cajoling her boyfriend into going to a boxing match where she gets ringside seats. The boyfriend immediately becomes jealous, accuses her of getting ringside seats because she's sleeping with the owner, and threatens to beat her if he ever catches her cheating. He also, in the course of the conversation, uses "big words" to try to impress her, but Bond is sniggering to himself because the words aren't real. Examples: "perzackly" - precisely/exactly; and "recasion" - reason/occasion. Message: Blacks are uneducated and it's funny when they try to use "big words" like whites do. Excuse me while I vomit in the corner.

Rather than listening to this conversation of a jealous black man threatening to beat his woman for cheating on him and coming to the conclusion that black people are "different," Bond immediately identifies with the man and says, Seems they're (blacks) interested in much the same things as everyone else - sex, having fun, and keeping up with the Joneses. Thank God they're not genteel about it. Yes, I should have known that this chilling conversation would create a feeling of empathy with Bond - after all, both he - a white man - and the black man at the table agree that women are property and should know their place.

This "black man as a superstitious, uneducated idiot" trope is prevalent throughout the book. The only black men who DON'T fit into this category are: Big and Quarrel.

Big escapes this category because he is half French. He speaks "like a white man," very eloquently and without slang. Bond admires his "brilliant brain" a lot and marvels that there is a black "master criminal" in existence. But even though Big is well-spoken, obviously educated, half-white, and dresses in a suit - he's still a voodoo practitioner, keeps "horrifying" voodoo paraphernalia in his office, and controls the other, "poor, ignorant, superstitious, innocent" black men with threats of mystical, voodoo punishment. Many are convinced his a "zombie in control of himself ... a witch-doctor in control of his own zombie" - something that I don't feel the book adequately explained and left me a bit confused.

Quarrel, on the other hand, is James Bond's friend. Well, I don't know if I, PERSONALLY, would use "friend" to describe this relationship because it's obvious that Bond is above Quarrel in status. They are pretty close to equal, especially considering the times - and Bond's mentality - and Bond TRIES to say that they ARE equal, but I don't buy it. 1.) Quarrel calls Bond "Cap'n" which is described as "the highest title he knew" since he's from "the most famous race of seamen in the world" (Caymen Islanders). Bond, in turn, just calls Quarrel by his name. 2.) When Bond is injured - which is often in this book, Quarrel tends to his wounds in what seems to me a very servile way. For instance, when Solitaire (the love interest) is injured, Bond (who is also VERY INJURED) strips her naked, bathes her, and tends to her wounds. Then he puts her, naked, into his bed. Then, he "allows" Quarrel to strip him, bathe him and tend to his (much more serious wounds) before driving him to a hospital. The fact that he doesn't allow Quarrel to tend to Solitaire (a white woman), but then expects Quarrel to do the sh*tload of work taking care of Bond's battered body when Bond was, apparently, not wounded enough to stop him from giving Solitaire the full treatment lets me know that Bond and Quarrel are definitely not equals like he wants me to believe.

LOVE INTEREST.
The love interest in this novel is white, blue-eyed, black-haired Solitaire: born Simone Latrelle. She is from Haiti. It's strongly implied that she comes from a powerful slave-owning family in Haiti who fell on hard times. She is 25.

She is "psychic." The book does not explain well if she is really psychic or is just really good at reading people. At times, it seems she's psychic: she'll get visions or predict the future accurately. When Bond asks her about her "powers," she claims she just reads people well. Big finds her in Haiti and takes her, keeping her as a prisoner. He often uses her as a lie-detector test - he hauls her out, shows her some man he's interrogating who's tied to a chair, asks the man questions and then orders her to tell him whether he's lying or not. Solitaire's upfront about the fact that she tells Big that the evil men are lying and that the men who she considers "good" are telling the truth. She's aware that she's responsible for the deaths of a good number of men and she shows NO remorse for this. Not only because they're evil men, but because they're black.

Big is keeping her prisoner because she's gorgeous, useful, and he wants to marry her (by force).

She's also the character who uses the n-word most in this novel.

It's also very interesting to notice the difference in Bond's treatment of Solitaire vs. his treatment of Vesper in the previous book. Unlike Vesper, who Bond described as "cold; arrogant; private", Solitaire makes it crystal clear from the instant she sees James Bond that she is sexually available to him and will go to bed with him at any time. She's described as obedient, trusting and Bond reacts to her very differently than Vesper. Whereas he was constantly fantasizing about raping Vesper, bringing her down a notch, forcing her to cry, forcing her to "want him," blah blah blah submit, he treats Solitaire as "poor female" who needs to be protected and directed and cared for. It's obvious why he never fantasizes about getting Solitaire to submit - she's obviously ready to submit to anything he might desire - and is therefore, in Bond's eyes: unrapeable.

BUT - and this is important to point out - he fantasizes about marrying Vesper, retiring from the Service for her, and spending the rest of his life with her. Solitaire is just a temporary fling - a sexual diversion that he deserves because he is Bond. He never says any of the romantic stuff to her that he said to Vesper. He instead, literally thinks of her as a prize to be enjoyed after he's done with his mission. He refers to her as "the prize" and "his prize" multiple times in the book - she's a sexual object to him and nothing more.

It's also interesting to note that (as in Casino Royale) he COMPLETELY IGNORES when his female tries to warn him about something. In this novel, even though Bond KNOWS that Solitaire is psychic/astute and she has proven her abilities to tell the future and read people again and again and again - he completely ignores her when she begs him not to leave her alone in the hotel. He basically tells her she's a silly female who's overreacting and then leaves with Felix. She promptly gets kidnapped. In the previous book, Casino Royale, Vesper tells Bond again and again that someone is following them, that there are still bad guys after them - and Bond says the same thing to her. Oh, silly woman, don't worry your pretty little head. In both books, the women are right and Bond's misogyny causes him to overlook something important. THIS IS NEVER ADDRESSED. Bond never admits he should have listened to the females' warnings, and he never even acknowledges the fact that they were right. NEVER.

When Solitaire kisses Bond forcefully, actually daring to run her hands through his hair - she's described as "kissing like a man...as if Bond were the woman." o.O

Also, little known fact - James Bond despises old people. He spends all his time in Florida discussing how disgusting old people's bodies are and making fun of them for playing bingo and walking slowly. It's as if he thinks he'll never age (of course, he won't, because he's a fictional character). He's very vocal and adamant about his disgust and contempt for the elderly. I found this offensive.

As in all Bond books, the best part is the villain's speech(es). When Bond is captured (usually once, but in this book it's twice) the villain always ties Bond up and then gives a long speech about how he's so great, Bond will never defeat him, there will be no rescue, blah blah blah. These are always epic, very entertaining speeches, with Bond occasionally breaking in to make a smartass comment or two. They are very cinematic and fun. Best part(s) of the book BY FAR.

Exciting parts: Bond fighting octopi, barracuda and sharks underwater with a harpoon gun. The octopus battle is extremely fun. At the end, Big decides to kill Bond and Solitaire by tying them together, face to face, butt-naked and dragging them behind the boat through a coral reef so that they get all bloody and sharks and barracuda eat them.

Sex: Sexual scenes (numerous) between Bond and Solitaire. This feels much better than with Vesper, it's clear Solitaire is a willing, consensual (and at times even aggressive) sexual partner.
The black stripper scene is a few pages long and VERY descriptive about her "animal" attractiveness and oiled body.
The finale when the black criminals use a knife to cut the clothes off of Solitaires body and bind her face-to-face with an also naked Bond.

America: James Bond is giving many funny "tips" on how to act and look American. He starts dressing in more casual clothes to blend in. Also, he's told that sleeping naked is the normal American standard and is encouraged to get rid of his pyjamas. Lastly, his advisors tell him to only use monosyllabic words. O.o

UPDATE: Okay, I saw the film version (1973) with Roger Moore. What a joke! It's almost a spoof movie. Moore is a dork, and wholly unconvincing as a charming secret agent. I like Jane Seymour in general and her beautiful eyes, but she just had no personality in this movie. The plot is only loosely based on the book and it ends up being very silly.

In the book, James Bond makes an effort to wear "normal" American clothes. In the movie, he wears a suit in EVERY scene, even though it makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

Quarrel and Felix Leiter are actual characters in the book. Quarrel and Bond spend a week together in which Quarrel teaches Bond all about the ocean and its wildlife. Bond gets into much better shape under Quarrel's care and tutelage. Quarrel has only a handful of lines in the film and no character.
Felix and Bond are friends in the book. There's even a whole cute page of them gently teasing each other and joking around. Bond always knows that Felix has his back. In the film, they just talk on the phone a few times for information and Felix has no character.

Solitaire is pretty brainless in both the movie and the book. But in the movie they create this whole "she is psychic because she's a virgin and if she ever has sex she'll lose her magic powers" - which is a popular trope but very unnecessary.

The chase and fight scenes are beyond ridiculous, especially when Bond uses crocodiles as stepping stones to get to the other side of the water. Really, at times they are obvious about making the fights a big joke. The movie is rarely serious.

If you have to pick between the two, I'd recommend the book over the movie. At least it develops it's characters and has exciting fight scenes and villain show-downs.

James Bond's second adventure (in the book world at least) takes him to New York & beyond as he battles the villainous Mr Big & gets a little help from CIA agent Felix Leiter.
Although Bond is tortured by the villain in most of Fleming's novels I find the moment when Tee Hee breaks Bond's little finger to be the worst. No matter how many times I've read Live & Let Die I always put the book down for a few moments after this scene.
This 1954 novel was not only the basis for Roger Moore's first outing as 007 in 1973, but it also supplied ideas that were used in future Bond films For Your Eyes Only & Licence To Kill.
Reading it again was a real nostalgia trip. Not only because it was written over 60 years ago, but this film tie-in paperback has my name stuck on the title page. The last time I did that to a book was when I was at school in the 1970s, so I've had this copy for a very long time!

”He held the tip between finger and thumb and very deliberately started to bend it back, giggling inanely to himself.
Bond rolled and heaved, trying to upset the chair, but Tee-Hee put his other hand on the chair-back and held it there. The sweat poured off Bond’s face. His teeth started to bare in an involuntary rictus.
The finger stood upright, away from the hand. Started to bend slowly backwards towards his wrist. Suddenly it gave. There was a sharp crack.
‘That will do,’ said Mr. Big.
Tee-Hee released the mangled finger with reluctance.
Bond uttered a soft animal groan and fainted.”

n  n
Roger Moore is BOND in the movie version of Live and Let Die

Wait!...what?
He fainted?
Me...you...nearly every other person on the planet we are screaming and pissing ourselves wishing we could faint faster, but BOND, JAMES BOND? The James Bond of the books feels more pain, is at times guided by fear, and makes more mistakes which I found frankly very interesting. There is no sex in this book. I KNOW I’m still in shock about that myself. He comes close:

”Bond cursed the broken hand that prevented him exploring her body, taking her. He freed his right hand and put it between their bodies, feeling her hard breasts, each with its pointed stigma of desire. He slipped it down her back until it came to the cleft at the base of her spine and he let it rest there, holding the centre of her body hard against him until they had kissed enough.
She took her arms away from round his neck and pushed him away.
‘I hoped I would one day kiss a man like that,’ she said. ‘And when I first saw you, I knew it would be you.’
Her arms were down by her sides and her body stood there, open to him, ready for him.
‘You’re very beautiful,’ said Bond. ‘You kiss more wonderfully than any girl I have ever known.’ He looked down at the bandages on his left hand. ‘Curse this arm.’ he said. ‘I can’t hold you properly or make love to you. It hurts too much. That’s something else that Mr. Big’s got to pay for.’”

n  n
Jane Seymour is Solitaire in the movie.

Are you kidding me!
There is a bit of daytime soap writing in this segment which made me laugh, and left me wondering if Fleming was avoiding writing the grand Bond sex scene although with all the “pointed stigma of desire” and such he was certainly delivering on a little titillation.

Mr. Big is the whole reason that Bond has flown to America. Gold coins, Rose Noble of Edward IV, have been surfacing from the pirate Henry “Bloody” Morgan’s treasure that was never found and by rights belongs to the British government. They have traced it to Mr. Big’s operation and agents have disappeared so it is time for 007 to be sent to find the pipeline for the treasure and if need be put a kibosh on Mr. Big’s organization. Fleming takes us from London, to NY, to Florida, and for the final meeting between Mr. Big and Bond to the island of Jamaica. Mr. Big sees himself as a trailblazer and it wouldn’t be a Bond if the villain didn’t give a speech.

n  n
Yaphet Kotto is Mr Big in the movie

”In the history of negro emancipation,’ Mr. Big continued in an easy conversational tone, ‘there have already appeared great athletes, great musicians, great writers, great doctors and scientists. In due course, as in the developing history of other races, there will appear negroes great and famous in every other walk of life.’ He paused. ‘It is unfortunate for you, Mister Bond, and for this girl, that you have encountered the first of the great negro criminals. I use a vulgar word, Mister Bond, because it is the one you, as a form of policeman, would yourself use. But I prefer to regard myself as one who had the ability and the mental and nervous equipment to make his own laws and act according to them rather than accept the laws that suit the lowest common denominator of the people.”

n  n

The book is rampant with racism, a time capsule of the way people felt in 1954, and from a quick glance through some of the reviews this aspect has certainly shadowed the enjoyment of other readers. I guess I just sort of flew over the top of those segments, not wanting to become bogged down in outdated thinking. Voodoo plays a role in this book. In fact, Mr Big has a heart ailment that gives his black skin a gray tinge giving him the look of a Voodoo Zombie further enhanced by the fact that he participates in Voodoo practices. Bond spends hours reading and researching on Voodoo. Fleming gets points for mentioning The Travellers Tree by Patrick Leigh Fermor, a writer I happen to really like. In that book Fermor talks about the Voodoo religion/cult.

n  n

I first came to Bond through watching The Saint episodes late at night. My Dad in an effort to get more than three channels on our TV, one of which flipped every few seconds, built this antenna the size of a small Cessna and hoisted it on a pole that soared high above the tallest trees. He connected a remote to it that would rotate the antenna allowing us to fine tune certain channels. We could now get seven channels, sort of. One of the channels put on The Saint and there was Roger Moore, young, dashing, and boy did I want to be him when I grew up. The first Bond I went to in the theater, which for the life of me I’m not sure which one, but it starred Roger Moore. So for me RM was BOND. I couldn’t say Moore was my favorite Bond or the best Bond, but like a first kiss it is hard not to be biased by that first experience.
n  n
Ian Fleming

To charge this book with racism, as many reviews have done so, is absurd. The book and attitudes were of the time and obviously these views are expressed within the pages. The same charges could be aimed at Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie, Bulldog Drummond and any classic character.Or what about Shakespeare - could we call the bard homophobic for not representing gay characters in his plays? Do we start judging classic works by modern standards? The book uses the word Negro a lot but at the time this was not considered a racial slur. It also uses the word gay in its true meaning - damn Ian Fleming for living during the period and writing what is probably the best series of thrillers in history. Didn't he realise that in the future the PC brigade, those same people who airbrushed the cigar from a famous poster of Winston Churchill, would be judging him by standards of the next century? How small minded of him!

James Bond on the page certainly comes across a lot different than James Bond on the big screen and LIVE AND LET DIE only serves to further hammer this point home. Ian Fleming has created a debonair masterpiece, with more than a hint of chauvinism. Sure, he uses terms then that he probably couldn’t get away with today, but this book was first published in 1954, so you have to roll with it a bit. If you’re a woman, or you’re easily offended, you might want to hesitate before picking it up.

The action moves slower than it does in the movies (that’s understandable), but it’s nice to get a fuller and complete picture of a true icon. At times this novel reads like a military intelligence briefing, but it’s still well-written prose, and given Ian Fleming’s, along with James Bond’s backgrounds, it’s not all that surprising.

If you’re looking for a quick read and a strong male lead, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Cross-posted at Robert's Reads

(A-) 80% | Very Good
Notes: James Bond gets educated in numismatics, anthropology, marine biology and voodoo, while the series gets formula.

The book is a product of its time. Partially set in Harlem, the plot bears little resemblence to the movie. The audio version is nicely done by Rory Kinnear.

Book 2 in the James Bond series published 1954

A 4 star, if lacking any pc, read.

I first read this book when I was in my mid teens some sixty years ago and decides on a re-read as homage to the late Sean Connery, whom to me, will always be the real James Bond.

Let me start by saying this is still a high octane thriller but the James Bond here is not the James Bond of my mind’s eye.
In it’s year of publication (1954) James Bond was the epitome of masculine cool.
He was the man that other men wished they were and he was the man that women fantasised about.
But oh how moral standards have change in sixty years.

The James Bond found here is a male chauvinist who treats women like objects, witness the book cover. The amount of strong liquor he consumes is out of control and he get through 3 pack of cigarettes a day.
Would you want to be this cool?

The master villain is Mr. Big a negro genius who has a large team of negro underlings.
Did I mention that our James is also a closet racist?

The book is a product of its day but if you can get past all of the above this is still a seat of your pants thriller with lots of thrills and spills.

Okay, I'd known that Ian Fleming is on record as having been a racist and sexist bastard, but somehow I had managed to not really notice that much the first time I'd taken a spin through the Bond novels. And there were a couple of bits I took issue with in my recent re-read of Casino Royale, sure, though they were few and far between.

But Live and Let Die? Wow, chock full of extremely blatant racism. Enough that it actively interfered with my ability to enjoy the story at all, and made it difficult for me to even want to finish it. About the only good thing I can say about the racial attitudes expressed in this novel is that Bond, out of all the white characters in the book, was surprisingly the least racist of all of them. M has some particularly annoying ever-so-superior commentary that made me grit my teeth when I read it, and extremely glad that we've got the divine Dame Judi Dench playing an infinitely cooler M.

There were one or two good bits--the part towards the end where Bond's sneaking underwater up on the bad guy's boat has some suitably suspenseful bits. The few good bits, though, weren't enough to make up for the blatant racism. One star.

“Live and Let Die,” for me, was a song first – long before it was even a movie, much less a novel. The year was 1973, and I was 12 years old, and I very much liked the song that Paul McCartney wrote, and performed with his post-Beatles band Wings, for the James Bond film Live and Let Die. A gentle piano introduction takes the reader forward into a crash of guitar power-chords followed by a frenzied, fast-moving orchestral interlude. My parents weren’t taking me to James Bond movies back then – maybe they thought the content was too “mature” – but eventually I did see the movie, and some years later I became acquainted with the source novel, Ian Fleming’s Live and Let Die (1954).

Fleming, a veteran of many years of service with British Intelligence, drew upon his knowledge of spycraft in composing his James Bond novels, but eschewed realism in favour of giving his vivid imagination free play. In those Cold War years, there were plenty of spy novelists seeking to give their readership some sort of sensationalized low-down on what might be going on in the deadly game of espionage that CIA and MI-6 operatives were then playing against their KGB adversaries. Fleming’s achievement, in effect, was to take an already well-worn genre and turn the volume up to 11. His work stood out from that of his peers in the field because the villains were more villainous, the violence more violent, the women more sexy, the action more over-the-top, than in any of his contemporaries’ work. It was all really quite “meta.”

Live and Let Die is the second of the James Bond adventures, following Casino Royale (1953). As in that earlier novel, Bond, with his double-0 “licensed to kill” designation, is sent on a dangerous international adventure against an operative who is affiliated with SMERSH, the Soviet counterintelligence agency. His adversary this time is one Mr. Big, a Harlem gang lord who is suspected of smuggling gold coins from Jamaica into New York City. And one of his employees – the most interesting employee by far, to Bond’s way of thinking – is a beautiful woman named Solitaire, who grew up in the French Caribbean, knows vodun culture well, and is said to have the power of second sight.

The phrase that gives Live and Let Die its title comes up early in the novel, when Bond is talking with a Captain Dexter of American intelligence about Bond’s intentions to begin carrying out some initial recon in Harlem, and Dexter tries to advise Bond to be cautious:

“This case isn’t ripe yet. Until it is, our policy with Mr. Big is ‘Live and let live.’”

Bond looked quizzically at Captain Dexter.

“In my job,” he said, “when I come up against a man like this one, I have another motto. It’s ‘Live and let die.’” (p. 41)

Damn! Now that song by Paul McCartney and Wings is blasting through my mind again. Actually, that's not such a bad thing. "But if this ever-changing world in which we're living/Makes you give in and cry - Say, 'Live and let die.'"

Throughout the early passages of the novel, the reader is given a strong and decided sense that Mr. Big and his criminal organization will be formidable antagonists for Bond. When Bond and his friend, CIA agent Felix Leiter, go to a Harlem music club to carry out their reconnaissance, the novel’s narrator takes care to note that “From the moment that Bond and Leiter walked under the canopy of Sugar Ray’s on Seventh Avenue at 123rd Street there was a team of men and women watching them or waiting to watch them….[N]either Bond nor Leiter felt the hidden machine nor sensed the tension around them” (p. 50).

Bond has an initial meeting with Mr. Big, under difficult and painful circumstances; and given the novel’s title, and the general trajectory of the James Bond narrative as we have come to know it, it should be no surprise that Bond offers Mr. Big, on parting, a threatening valedictory: “‘Those who deserve to die,’ he paused, ‘die the death they deserve. Write that down,’ he added. ‘It’s an original thought’” (p. 83).

Bond and Solitaire end up escaping from Mr. Big’s clutches and travelling together to Saint Petersburg, Florida, a city that is another center of Mr. Big’s criminal operations. On the train ride down, Solitaire confirms to Bond that she does have second-sight abilities of a sort:

“Yes,” she said, “I have. Or something very like it. I can often see what’s going to happen, particularly to other people. Of course I embroider on it and when I was earning my living doing it in Haiti it was easy to turn it into a good cabaret act. They’re riddled with Voodoo and superstitions there and they were quite certain I was a witch. But I promise that when I first saw you in that room, I knew you had been sent to save me. I,” she blushed, “I saw all sorts of things.” (p. 107)

Romance is in the air, quite clearly, but so is danger. Bond finds that “His growing warmth towards Solitaire and his desire for her body were in a compartment which had no communicating door with his professional life” (p. 133). Bond’s conflicted feelings regarding Solitaire are exacerbated when Solitaire is kidnapped from their Florida coast cabin by Mr. Big’s operatives. “Bond could see the expression of blind terror on Solitaire’s face as if she was standing before him. He cursed himself bitterly for leaving her alone” (p. 156).

There is more bad news to come for Bond, as a friend of his is mutilated in a particularly horrible way – a grisly plot turn that is replicated in the Bond film Licence to Kill (1989). It will become characteristic of the Bond novels that Bond’s personal motivations for revenge start to converge with his official duties to neutralize an enemy agent on behalf of British Intelligence.

One of the interesting things that the Bond novels provide – and that one can’t get from the Bond films – is the main character’s reflections on the dangerous nature of his profession. En route to Jamaica, for a final confrontation with Mr. Big’s operatives, for example, Bond reflects on all that he has survived already, and wonders about what lies ahead:

You start to die the moment you are born. The whole of life is cutting through the pack with death. So take it easy. Light a cigarette and be grateful you are still alive as you suck the smoke deep into your lungs. Your stars have already let you come quite a long way since you left your mother’s womb and whimpered at the cold air of the world….Don’t lose faith in your stars. Remember that hot stitch of time when you faced death from The Robber’s gun last night. You’re still alive, aren’t you? There, we’re out of it already. It was just to remind you that being quick with a gun doesn’t mean you’re really tough. Just don’t forget it. This happy landing at Palisadoes Airport comes to you by courtesy of your stars. Better thank them. (p. 188)

Bond establishes himself in a Jamaican coastal location from which he can monitor Mr. Big’s island lair, and meditates on the uncertainty of his fate and that of Solitaire – “The stars winked down their cryptic morse and he had no key to their cipher” (p. 209).

Underwater adventure abounds in this final portion of Live and Let Die, with much reflection on what sharks and barracuda can do to human beings as Bond plans an underwater infiltration of Mr. Big’s lair. It will surprise no one that Bond ends up, with Solitaire, in Mr. Big’s custody, as Mr. Big provides a perhaps unnecessarily elaborate explanation of his criminal plans and tells Bond and Solitaire that “I will leave you now…to reflect on the excellence of the method I have invented for your death together” (p. 250). Bond, of course, has other plans, and it is on that note that Live and Let Die moves toward a suitably action-packed conclusion.

With a James Bond novel, what you see is what you get. Some readers will find these novels hopelessly sexist and racist and colonialist – and calling the racial politics of this novel "problematic" would be a drastic understatement. Others will no doubt delight in all the “old-fashioned” fun and adventure. My own sense is that Fleming (a) deliberately engaged in all the wretched excess he could flog his imagination into contriving, (b) left readers to make of it what they might, and (c) laughed all the way to the bank. One way or another, it is always interesting to visit with 007, and to reflect on how this one character has had such a massive influence upon world popular culture.

Live and Let Die is the second James Bond novel; to my mind a classic despite the modern contrary opinion. It checks all of my criteria boxes for a classic. It has over 50 years of exceptionalism, paradigm creating, and longevity. It was written by Ian Fleming in 1954 and amazingly it has a 1970s blaxploitation feel probably because of the predominance of black characters (not all African American). The novel moves from Harlem, to Florida, then Jamaica. The movie that uses this book as its source material transpires in the 1970s with a similar backdrop but instead of Florida it substitutes New Orleans. The villainous Mr. Big is worthy of being called a Bond villain. The lovely Solitaire is worthy of being a Bond “girl.” It is heavy on the misogyny and the “n-word.” So trigger warning for all that would find it offensive. Just recognize that the book was written in a different era. Much of what was acceptable back then is not acceptable now. I rate the book as a relic to be enjoyed. Quarrel is a very likeable black protagonist supporting character that is supposed to serve as an offset to the other stereotypical ethnic characters. He teaches 007 some important things about marine biology. I made my caveats, so if you read this novel, you have been warned. Still and all, a very entertaining read.

If read through the wrong prism, much like the notorious Tintin In The Congo, Live and Let Die will appear very racist. It is interesting that, despite being the second Bond book, it took so long to become a movie. Consider this: the book was released in 1955, five years before The Beatles formed. The song for the 1973 film was performed by a Wings-era Paul McCartney.

But more telling is Fleming's choice to make Bond's first true nemesis an African American, blending Voodoo and the mystery of black people to white people (which was Fleming's likely main audience) to great effect. If you read between the lines and ignore that Fleming keeps using the word 'Negro', which is not done with any sense of malice, there is a lot of respect here.

After surviving near-assassination by S.M.E.R.S.H. (the Russian assassination buro) in Casino Royale, the first book, Bond is hungry for revenge and M has an assignment that might get him just that. Old gold coins, possibly from a pirate's treasure, are appearing in America and suspicion is that Soviet agents are using gold from Bloody Morgan's treasure in Jamaica to further their cause. At the helm is a mysterious character called Mr. Big, who uses voodoo superstition as part of his repertoire to control an elaborate criminal cartel. He might also work for S.M.E.R.S.H., which has Bond's attention.

It sounds a tad outlandish, especially with pirates in the mix, but this yarn allows for a lot of insight into what drives 007. It also builds the spy's relationship with C.I.A. fixer Felix Leiter and gives more aspects to Bond's vulnerability, as Mr. Big turns out to be a very formidable foe. There is a lot of nuance here, especially because this is Bond's first proper 'action' outing. In Casino Royale he largely gambles and survives a few close scrapes. Here 007 never comes close to a felt-covered table, but he does show his chops in eluding the enemy, thinking on his toes and surviving even narrower scrapes. It also deals with some of the tedium Bond has to deal with - passing mentions of waiting in a roadhouse or typing up a report. You get a very good idea about his sense of responsibility. But the pacing is fast and at 120 pages it is easy to cut through.

There is a reason why Bond as a franchise has been such a mega-hit. Fleming deserves more credit for how well he wrote these books. He certainly knew a thing or two about nuance and finer touches.