আগে পড়া বই। কিন্তু কিছুই মনে নেই দেখে আবার পড়া শুরু করলাম। যে সময়ে লেখা তাতে মনে হয় তখনই এ গল্প ভালো ছিল, মানিয়েও যেত। একালে বিভিন্ন মুভি দেখে মনে হয় না এসব বই আর কারো ভালো লাগবে। ঘটনা সিম্পল। রাশিয়ার গোয়েন্দা সংস্থা বৃটিশ গোয়েন্দাবাহিনীকে শিক্ষা দেয়ার জন্য জেমস বন্ডকে হত্যা করার সিন্ধান্ত নেয়। তাকে পটানোর জন্য বেছে নেওয়া হয় মহাসুন্দরী তাতিয়ানাকে। বন্ডের কাজ হইল এই তাতিয়ানাকে কব্জা করে ইংল্যান্ড নিয়ে যাওয়া। বেচারা তাতিয়ানা নিজেই প্রেমে পরে যায় বন্ডের। দুজনে মিলে আদিম প্রেম করতে করতে বিভিন্ন রাশিয়ান হত্যাশিল্পীদের মোকাবেলা করে ফিরে আসে নিরাপদ স্থলে।
মজা লাগে নাই একদম।

Having avoided Fleming's work all my life, the recent fuss about Daniel Craig stepping down as James Bond piqued my interest, and I decided to check out one of the source novels for the first time. From Russia with Love is often touted as the best of the Bond books, and its big screen adaptation brought back childhood memories of gloomy sunday afternoons spent in front of the TV, watching Sean Connery keep the British end up for Queen and Country. Though one movie seemed to blend into another, the overriding message was clear even to my young mind: Britain was number 1, and Bond was the epitome of cool Britannia, the quintessential English gentleman. Fleming wrote him as an Englishman, and his manner of speaking is very much of the upper classes, to whch Fleming belonged. This was written at a time before British and English were ever treated as anything but synonyms and when the smaller nations had to simply be quiet and accept their place. Imperial nostalgia required that the Empire be treated as if it was still being run from London, and the English were in charge.The fact that Connery, still the most memorable Bond, was quite adamantly Scottish and not at all in keeping with Fleming's physical description didnt seem to matter at all. He was, and is, in many peoples eyes still the face and voice most associated with 007, even down to the sibilant lisp (Yesh Mish Moneypenny, etc etc.) In fact, of all the screen Bonds, only Daniel Craig and Roger Moore were unequivocally English, the others being variously Scottish, Welsh, Irish and even Australian (the hapless George Lazenby). Even our national heroes werent quite as 'national' as we had assumed. With that in mind, and reservations temporarily on hold, I held my nose and turned the first page.

First, lets get the negatives out the way: The characterisation of every other character except Bond is terrible. The Soviet Aparatchiks may as well have been cut from a mold labelled 'Commie Cliche 101'. SMERSH, the fictional counter-intelligence organisation which plots to kill 007 is headed by a man named Comrade Grubozaboyshikov, a ludicrous name intended to signal oriental cunning and Stalinist cruelty, and the other villains such as Rosa Klebb the torturess, are so cartoonishly evil that you soon realise that the movies hardly had to simplify or adapt the source material at all. There is simply no depth here. To describe them as two dimensional would be an exaggeration. Also, running through the whole piece like a stick of rock is the undercurrent of casual misogyny that the series is notorious for. Women are treated either as sex objects/toys or as haggard old witches and crones. No other role is permitted. Barely is a female character introduced before she is disrobing to sleep with our dashing hero, or being summarily executed by him. Or both. The obligatory Femme Fatale, Tatiana Romanovna (Fleming's name choice here perhaps reveals his royal nostalgia) is tasked with seducing Commander Bond in order to murder him, but, who could have guessed?! She begins to develop feelings for the tuxedo-wearing secret agent, and finds herself torn between the ideology she believes in, and the man she loves.

Finally, the dialogue is truly diabolical. The plot points are signposted for anyone in the audience who didnt get it the first 5 times, the exposition is so blatant and characters speak in a way that is transparently an excuse for Fleming to put his own prejudices into their mouths. Thus we get the Soviets lambasting the dumb Yanks and the smarmy French, while admitting grudging respect and admiration for Britain and its Security services (of whom Fleming had once been a part.) Is this Cold War fantasy? Or Fleming's dream of a world where Britain still matters as much as it once had? It's been well said before that Bond himself was probably Britain's biggest contribution to the Cold War, and Fleming's creation of these dastardly Soviet villains undoubtedly did much to shape Western views of the USSR. Indeed, this book was said to have been one of President Kennedy's favourites, which might go some way to explaining his own belligerence over Cuba in 1962, when he almost led the world to nuclear war and only the calmness of Nikita Khruschev prevented a world-ending fire.

However, with all those caveats, there is much more to be said in the books favour than I had expected. The pacing is taut and nicely staged, each chapter begins and ends with a cliffhanger and the whole thing is a thriller, and it moves so fast that you barely notice the silliness of much of what is happening. Bond himself, who does not appear until the book's second act, is one of the great spy characters of modern literature, and most of the usual cliches (the martini, the gadgets, the cars, the exotic locales) are trotted out here to good effect. However he's also presented as a darker and more brooding presence than the movies normally allow him, certainly closer in spirit to the Daniel Craig version than Connery, let alone Roger Moore's Carry-on routine. The ending is also much more open-ended than you would expect if you'd only seen the Movies, which was refreshing. Though many of the tropes and cliches are so timeworn now as to be formulaic, the whole thing feels like going to see a fading band playing a greatest hits tour. You know exactly which songs they're going to play, but you still cant help singing along. According to legend Fleming would flee the grim British winter every year to spend a few months holed up in Jamaica at his villa (named, inevitably, Goldeneye) writing these novels, and reading them also feels like a well-earned break from regular reading. One can almost picture the author, sombrero resting on the table in the sunshine, laying down his cigar and cocktail, taking a quick look out at the azure Caribbean as he sits down in front of his typewriter to produce another dashing tale of Commander Bond foiling the wily Russians and saving the world yet again. He clearly enjoyed writing these novels and on the evidence of this one at least, they're just as enjoyable to read. It may be Kitsch and Camp and thinly disguised jingoist propganda, but at least it's honest about it, and at least it entertains as it propagandises.

This is my third time reading FRWL, and for some reason, my least favorite go around. The last quarter of the book is great, and throughout, you get the fantastic feeling of having an inside view of what went on in the Russian spy organization of the '50s. But it felt a little long in the tooth this time. Hurts to say those words, but am I outgrowing Fleming?

Update - I find myself re-reading the Fleming canon in order. I found it much more enjoyable this time. It's always been somewhat of an aberration because Bond is only in about half the book, but much beloved because of its many iconic scenes and settings. 4.5 stars.

From Russia With Love, movie trailer.

My Bond project continues with From Russia With Love, the second Bond film and the fifth Bond book (and yes, this out-of-order thing is totally starting to bug me... but I will prevail!).

So most interesting, in the movie the group that's after Bond is the non-specific SPECTRE (SPecial Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion), whereas in the book it's the very, very Soviet organization SMERSH (...mumble mumble mumble something Russian mumble mumble... roughly translated to "Death to Spies" or something or other). According to Wikipedia, SPECTRE became a thing so as to be apolitical. Good luck with that, film industry.

Doesn't matter what they're called, they are a mean, lean killing machine.

And when they get a lady involved, then it's all just about sex.

This book has taken the sexism to a whole new level in which Tatiana makes some comment about getting fat, and will Bond beat her if she gets too fat that he can't have sex with her, and he totally says he will. That charmer, Bond. I'll take three just like him.

Interesting anecdote - apparently Bond has a scar! In the movie the scar was shown on his lower back (right lower quadrant, I believe) and it was teeny tiny, like maybe he just had a pesky kidney removed or something. But in the book he has some scar across his face and across one shoulder. I haven't read all the books prior to this one yet, so I don't know what the real deal is with that, but my point is that we don't get to see that side of him at all in the movies. Sean Connery with the lovely puppy-dog brown eyes... the real Bond is supposed to be blue-eyed and all Scarface. I call bullshit on the whole film industry. It's like they weren't even trying.

Also missing from the book - a cat. There is no mention of a cat in the book. There is, however, a cat in the movie. Kitty gets to eat fishies. But why leave it out of the book? Maybe the cat was the director's cat in real life and he wanted to immortalize the animal on screen. Whatever, I missed the cat in the book.

The movie also included a helicopter and a boat scene that were definitely not in the book, so if you're into that sort of stuff, I recommend the movie. The book, as usual, was a little less action-y than the film, but that's to be expected.

Somehow this was slightly better than Dr. No, but it could just have been my mood was improved while reading this one.

But really, Bond is such a douche.

Next up: Goldfinger.

My second (and quite possibly final) Bond book. 

On the heels of reading 'Dr. No', this follow-up experience is basically an all-too-similar one. On the one hand, it could be that I'm just not the audience for this (at least, as is). On the other, it shares a number of deficiencies found in 'Dr. No' (i.e., maniacal killers giving long-winded, nonchalant backstory speeches just as they're about to kill?!; seriously?!) and, frankly, the writing is largely flaccid. 

There's one rather notable exception: the way Fleming opens this novel. The first several chapters (esp. Chapter One) are surprisingly good; they seemed the work of a different (and better) writer. Fleming's opening attack is not a mere gambit. It reads as a conscious and immensely clever maneuver, to give us a textured deep-dive into the mind of the novel's principal liquidator. It's riveting stuff. 

~ with its massage setting for a large portion, it's even sexy, in a disquieting way. (~ and largely thrown away in the film version, though there wouldn't be a way to duplicate it properly; there's too much that's internal.):n  

By the time she was finished with the man she would be soaked in perspiration and so utterly exhausted that she would fall into the swimming pool and then lie down in the shade and sleep until the car came for her. But that wasn't what she minded as her hands worked automatically on across the man's back. It was her instinctive horror for the finest body she had ever seen.
None of this horror showed in the flat, impassive face of the masseuse... but inside her the animal whimpered and cringed and her pulse-rate, if it had occurred to her to take it, would have been high.

nSpeaking of the film... many seem to think it's one of the best in the series simply because it remains rather faithful to the book. But it does more than that; it improves on it by shaping / sharpening / helping potential become realized. It still could have been better but it has a commercial slickness that sells it.

For the sake of his place in this genre's history, I'm glad to have finally spent a little time with Fleming. But, as a writer, I can't say his work engages me much.

Это отличная книга!

Google translate tells me this is “That's a great book” in Russian. If I’m getting catfished by Google, somebody please let me know.

Anyway, this is a great book!

First of all, oddly, we don’t even see Bond until about 60 pages in. Fleming slowly, but entertainingly, builds the Soviet era backstory with a focus on some senior Soviets cooking up a trap for our hero. They’ll use a pretty young operative to lure Bond into a “killing bottle” for their hired assassin.

Bond is described as 6-foot-tall and 160 pounds, “straight and tall as a butcher knife” and Fleming’s prose is equally angular and lean. Writers today, who don’t feel like they’ve started until they reach 400 pages, would do well to emulate this minimalist style. This is a fun page turner.

Of course even though this is a review of Ian Fleming’s 1957 novel, I would be remiss if I did not also mention Terence Young’s ultra-cool 1963 Bond film starring Sean Connery and Robert Shaw. Shaw is one of my favorite character actors and while he was fun to watch here, I cannot think of him without recalling his 1975 portrayal of Quint in Steven Spielberg’s film Jaws. Also noteworthy was the delightful Daniela Bianchi who played Tatiana Romanova. Connery has said that this was his favoriet Bond film.

** Side note: Who was the coolest: Sean Connery, Steve McQueen or Paul Newman? My vote is for McQueen, but they are all stratospheric cool in their own way.

I’m going to read all of these.

From Russia with Love by Ian Fleming is the 5th James Bond novel, considered to be JFK’s favorite and I can see why. The first third of the book is all about setting up this elaborate Russian plot designed to disgrace the British Secret Service by assassinating James Bond while smearing him with illicit scandal which presupposes that the "secret agent," Bond is no longer secret, so then how effective can he be? The details, Fleming used to create the players both good and bad that are so significant in this novel are perfect despite the glaring plot hole that 007 is no longer a secret agent. Karem Bey, Tatiana, Colonel Klebb, Grant, and even Kronsteen are all memorable characters. Again, not trying to be an apologist for this series, but written in the 1950s, the novels are blatantly misogynistic and even racist. If these are triggers for you then stay away. The prose is smoothly lyrical and extremely insightful (as if it was written by a former intelligence officer.) This is definitely a top tier novel.

Problematico come al solito, ma la parte ambientata in Russia è un capolavoro, così come i personaggi. (Anche se il punto di vista è molto antirusso e stereotipato, ma posso capirlo dati gli anni in cui il romanzo è stato scritto.) L'ambientazione è descritta in maniera particolarmente accurata ed affascinante: sembra proprio di essere sull'Orient Express e di fare lo stesso viaggio da Istanbul a Digione assieme a Bond. C'è anche più attenzione, rispetto ai libri precedenti, per gli stati d'animo dei protagonisti.
Insomma, nonostante qualche frase davvero fuori luogo e i soliti cliché, questo quinto romanzo della serie di spionaggio mi ha proprio catturata, quindi non posso che dare 4*.

I've tried three times to read any of Ian Fleming's Bond novels, because he was an actual intelligence officer writing spy novels. Bond in the abstract is an interesting character, a posh international superspy with cool tech and a drinking habit. I've fallen asleep during the one Bond movie I've watched (Skyfall, apologies) and don't fare much better with the novels. This particular novel opens in Russia, however, with no Bond in sight, and the plot is introduced quickly. The Russians believe that killing Bond will gravely weaken British intelligence, and recruit a femme fatale to lure him into position so that 007 can be deep-sixed. Said fatale's cover story is that she's a Russian intelligence officer who fell in love with Bond by looking at his photograph, and now she wants to defect so she can be with him in person.

I really should have stoppped reading there, but I persisted. (But seriously, who disguises an intel officer by pretending she's AN INTEL OFFICER?) I should note that I have an active dislike for novels with sex scenes in them -- I'll read science books about sexuality, no problems, but inflict fictional bedroom scenes on me and I'm sloooowly putting the book down -- and so I probably shouldn't have even TRIED a novel with this premise. There's just endless description of people's buttocks and breasts and yadayadayada. When Bond meets the fatale she's literally naked in his bed, and it's just....preposterous. I'd say "silly", a la Monty Python, but silly can be charming, whereas this is more like the 2016 US election. This is a rare DNF for me, as I stopped 75% through.

Anyway, I don't think Fleming is for me. Fortunately there's plenty of spy novels with more explosives and less anatomical exposition.

A very successful and tense Bond thriller, but one of the few cases where the movie adapts it straight and does it better, raising the stakes even further, fixing a few of the holes found the novel. and expanding the presence of the characters of Tania and Grant. You won't go wrong with either - in fact, you should probably just experience both!

In ways this is my favorite Bond book so far. Not sure why. Perhaps because the writing feels a bit more mature...in ways.

Fleming spends a lot of time developing the backgrounds of the villains. Bond doesn't come actively on to the scene until well into the book.

The pacing feels slow for the first two thirds, then it gets ramped up for the end. The plot is straight forward and even intentionally telegraphed, so it will probably bore modern day readers.

WHAT IS THIS?!
Can something be amazing and batshit?
I think so.



In the last book,  Diamonds Are Forever, it seemed as though Bond was going soft. His little heart was growing just like The Grinch as he and Tiffany Case sauntered off into the sunset. And I guess by extension, I thought Ian Fleming was getting softer. Growing as a man. Showing us his vulnerable underbelly and...



All women want to be swept off their feet. In their dreams they long to be slung over a man’s shoulder and taken into a cave and raped.
Ok. Never mind, sir.

These were actually words of wisdom from Bond's new BFF, Darko Kerim. Who actually does in fact tell the story of one of the women he carried off to his cave. Then his mom dropped by and slapped him around a bit and made a scene. Poor Darko.
But I'll bet most of us can think back to that time our mom embarrassed us in front of our friends while we were hanging out at our rape cave.
#relatable



There's also an unintentionally funny moment when Bond's love interest, the double-agent Tatiana Romanov (now smitten with James) asks him to beat her if she eats too much and gets fat.
Well, well, well.



But those antiquated and wholly ridiculous ideas about men and women are a big part of why I keep reading these Bond books. When I hear something like that it just makes me gurgle-laugh. I mean, you don't get to see stuff like that anymore!



Anyway, the gist of this one is that the Russians are trying to destroy the morale of their enemies, so they send this hot young officer in to seduce James. And he's ripe for the picking because his little heart has been broken by Tiffany and her crummy American lover.
Did I mention Flemming said she looked like a young Greta Garbo?
You've got great taste, Ian.



The Russians think that if Bond were to be disgraced then MI6 would be disgraced.
You know, now that I think about it I never really understood the plan fully.



He was going to be taken in by this smoking hot defector, and then I guess they were going smear him and the agency with this torrid sex scandal after he had been killed.
FOOLS!
That's never gonna work because there isn't a woman alive that can resist the manly scent wafting off of Bond, James Bond.



This really has all the things that make Bond books that particular brand of wacky/delicious. Including the unforgettable Rosa Klebb! An aging Russian officer who revels in torture as an art form, and if that's not bad enough, is also a bisexual who tries to seduce our poor Miss Romanova.
Unbelievably, Flemming doesn't take this opportunity to write a hot lesbian scene.
Then again, this is Bond's world, so it wouldn't make sense to have anyone else horning in on the sexytimes.



Anyway, Klebb is a saggy crone.
So after she bluntly informs Titana that she'll be responsible for shagging the state secrets out of a British intelligence officer, she takes sexual harassment in the workplace up to ten.
She disappears for a minute and then pops back into the room in a see-through negligee, and tells the nubile young Tatiana to flip off the light. She does.
Right before she scurries out of the room as though her ass were on fire.
The scene made me laugh, even though I'm not sure that was the intention. I think it was supposed to make the reader feel uncomfortable, but I just kept picturing this:



Oh! And I haven't even gotten to Donovan "Red" Grant yet. This guy was some kind of unhinged werewolf that would lose control and kill on every full moon. Not by turning into a hairy hybrid of man and beast and tearing someone apart with his supernatural teeth. No, he'd just sneak out of the house and choke a hobo or something. But on a full moon.
He's so evil that he defected to Russia and begged to work for SMERSH as their hatchet man.



Ok, so those are the main players that get mixed together in this spy-soup thriller. But as they all combine and combust the plot gets crazier and the stakes get higher. And that ending?
WHAT?
From Russia With Love is arguably the most famous Bond book Flemming wrote, and I can see why.