Forget ever James Bond movie you ever saw when you read the books. These are much more a mystery/adventure story. Recommended

My biggest complaint with FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE—aside from the usual male chauvinism and innocent women who need a real man—I was well into this novel (over a third of the way) before Bond made his appearance. Did I really need to know that much about Mother Russia? I think not. I’d have been happier with much less, frankly, and I would have kept a few more sanity points.

I even debated skipping ahead, but since I’ve approached my task of reading the entire Bond series the way one might approach a calculus exam, I trudged onward, even if there were times in the beginning where my unhappiness reached a near monumental level.

And then Bond showed up in all of his male glory and all was right with the world. Or at least I thought so…until two tribal women in loincloths fight each other to the death, one with a massive bosom and the other a little less endowed, as the sun glistens off their naked, perfect bodies. Excuse me…what? Son of a Walther PPK! My inner goddess just cursed a red, white, and blue streak. And I probably fainted from a heatstroke.

At this point, I might have actually cheered for a buxom beauty the size of a tank to haul off and repeatedly whack Bond with a knotted rope while his pants are around his ankles and a group of Russian women stare on in equal parts delight and horror. Turnabout is fair play, right?

Other than being young and nubile and having looks that could kill, I was not particularly impressed with Tatiana Romanova. She might have had a certain amount of innocence, but I wasn’t buying it.

This supposed thriller left with me few thrills, except for the one I received when I finished it.

Side bar – I’ve started watching Mad Men. The reason I mention this is between reading the Bond novels and watching that AMC show—which end up being somewhat enjoyable for entirely different reasons and equally aggravating for the rampant, raging sexism—I feel like I’m next in line for lung cancer, even though I’ve never smoked a day in my life.

Cross-posted at Robert's Reads

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.

This is the fifth of Ian Fleming's Bond novels. It had some really good characters in it - very well formed and deeply motivated baddies Rosa Klebb and Red Grant, but the whole thing didn't work quite as well for me as the previous four stories.
Bond himself felt a little 'washed out', he wasn't firing on all cylinders and seemed almost to be a passenger in the plots and schemes of the other characters. Kerim Bey, the Turkish agent was a very good character and almost the star of the show in this story.
Finally, the 'heroine' Tatiana Romanova - I'm afraid she was very disappointing after the very strong lead women of the previous novels (Tiffany Case, Vespa Lynd). Tatiana did little but get bullied by everyone, cry, and get manipulated easily by her superiors (and Bond). She even asked to be beaten if she started to get fat - what?! No, I'm afraid poor Tatiana was fairly pathetic.
Overall, not a bad tale with some decent action scenes, although almost overshadowed by more than enough disturbing misogynistic rubbish such as gypsy girls being made to fight each other until their clothes fall off - I know it's the 1950s but come on!
So - only 3 stars this time. Hopefully Dr No will be better.

This book is very special to me for one particular reason...it was the first book I had bought with my own money when I was a child. It was, of course, the cover that compelled me to purchase it, I think most of us are guilty of judging a book in this manner. I used to while away the hours in a local bookshop. I would walk up and down the isles dreaming of all the wonderous adventures each tome held within. Then, I saw the spy section of the shop. The covers, the titles, all left me in awe of what the life of a fictional spy might be like. It had to be exciting to be a spy; each cover told me so, how could they be wrong.

I didn't have the money so I explained my dilemma to the shopkeep and asked him what I could do to own one of these great spy thrillers. He saw my plight and, as he had a kind heart, he suggested that I help him for the day to earn a copy of the Bond of my choice. I swept and dusted. I washed racks and windows. I even unpacked boxes of new and used books while he placed them on the shelves. Finally, at the end of the day my reward had come; all I had to do was choose...

From Russia with Love. It had to be this one. There was just something about the cover (of course, I read the back to see what it was about). It was a wonderous adventure and I scrimped and saved and worked as a child to get them all.

It is still my favorite from the entire Bond/Fleming collection.


Devlin

From the Telegraph's Andrew Martin 06 Aug 2014:

"Scientists at the University of London have concluded that the key to happiness is having low expectations. 'They mined this conclusion from an experiment in which people gambled with small sums of money. The subjects were happiest when they won, not having expected to win.'"



This quote pretty much captures my feelings about Ian Fleming. Now five books deep into James Bond, I've just figured out how to enjoy these books. Yes, you guessed it. Low expectations. I can't pretend I'm going to be reading Graham Greene or Joseph Conrad. I'm not going to explore the soul of man or the heart of darkness. I'm also not going to be reading John le Carré. There isn't going to be any self-reflection of post-modern hand wringing. This is James Bond dammit. You are going to get James Bond. He is a known quantity. If you come to this expecting to be seduced by literature, oh boy, you are on the wrong damn train. If, however, you are looking for 00 so ‘tarnished with years of treachery and ruthlessness and fear,’ sent off ‘to pimp for England’... Well, babe, this is THAT novel and James is your man.



It all reminds me of a quote from Christopher Hitchens I recently read:

“Fleming once confessed that he hoped to “take the story along so fast that nobody would notice the idiosyncrasies.” Fat chance. His “idiosyncrasies” jut out like Tatiana Romanova’s ass. What he ought to have said was that he hoped to pile on the pace and thereby hustle the reader past the point where belief has to be suspended. The smaller details, of products and appurtenances and accessories, fulfill the function of the conjuror’s other hand. They distract attention from the glaring lacunae in the plots, the amazing stupidity of the supposedly mastermind villains, and the reckless disregard for his own safety that this supposedly ice-cold agent displays by falling for every lure.”

Oh, James!

After two novels bashing the USA as vulgar and crass and corrupt, the Brit Fleming now turns to Russia, in one of Fleming’s literary contributions to the Cold War, with a focus on the Russian anti-spy organization, SMERSH, and a psychopathic serial killer straight out of Fleming's probable reading of Jim Thompson's The Killer in Me. Smersh's mission for no obvious reason than to annoy the CIA is to kill Bond, who is only talked about in the first third of the book. I like that. We get a clearer sense of the shape and nature of the villain in this book, which is a cartoony view of all Russians as cartoonishly cold, merciless, evil, emotionless, and so on. If you are an American reading this book in 1957 you should either 1) run like Hell from the Evil Russkies or 2) Vote for a larger and larger Defense Budget, 3) begin building your bomb shelter, and 4) buy lots of guns.

Now, it is true Russia is the home of Stalin, one of the most murderous totalitarian leaders in history, and it may be true that there may have been upwards of 40,000 SMERSH anti-spy agents killing people both within and without the former Soviet Union, consistent with Stalin’s scorched earth approach to governing resistance, but make no mistake about it, books like Fleming’s helped fuel the Cold War through fear.

Fleming is not John le Carré or Graham Greene, moral philosophers of spy stories; he is writing a fun thriller, cooking his ingredients to lean more and more toward silly pulp territory and away from a noir feel. He also moves us in a more and more sexist direction (to the delight of millions) through the depiction of “irresistible” Tatiana Romanova, who lures 007 to Istanbul in order to seduce him and so her organization can more easily kill him.

Romanova is described as “sexually neutral,” which is to say she will have sex with men but will not get emotionally involved, perfect for spy sex. She is also depicted as a stone-cold killer who has a “perfect body,” of course. We are expected to believe a well- trained SMERSH agent sees Bond, forgets everything she is supposed to do, and actually melts her ice-cold flesh into his arms, of course. But we have seen Bond played by Sean Connery in the film version, so we can see why anyone might sleep with him! We know what he would do with frigid women, make them into fireballs! So we already know how this part of the story is going to work out. (Or we think we do!)

So what do we know about Russia in 1957, based on this book? They are evail soul-less monsters (who have never read Tolstoy or Pushkin), they play chess, they drink vodka, they have spies and counter-spies to match the West. The plot also includes a trip on the Orient Express, which makes you think of the differences between Dame Christie’s elegant bloodless whodunnits vs. these slick, violent action stories. With more sex, for sure (though in 1957, the door closes so we can’t see the sex, of course).

But in spite of everything I say above, I still liked this book pretty well, the best of the lot so far. Once you see it is a wild cartoon that just demonizes the enemy and idolizes the West, you just sit back and enjoy, I guess. I kind of came to like the pulpy/cartoony buildup of SMESH as almost superhumanly bad. I liked how this book began with a different approach, focusing on SMERSH before we introduce Bond. I especially like how Bond walks willingly into the trap he knows is there, and gets out of it, through a series of crosses and double-crosses. Fleming writes action sequences really well. I like Tatiana, so sue me. I do like Bond here, though I have to see the movie again to see which I liked better. I say 3.5. Maybe when I see the film I might kick it up to 4.

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*.

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।

From Russia With Love is the fifth book in Ian Fleming's James Bond series. Written in the height of the Cold War, it pits Russia versus the west in a race to achieve the best in stealth technology. When the novel first came out, President Kennedy dubbed it his favorite book, increasing it in popularity and spurring Fleming to write more James Bond cases. Yet, this tale of espionage is often dubbed the best in the series.

SMERSH, the Russian intelligence agency, would like to make a big splash to show the west who the leader in the world is. Their head, the evil Rosa Klebb, decides on murdering a secret agent from Britain or America and lands on none other than James Bond. With the help of British ex-patriot Red Granitsky and young, naive Tatiana Romanova, Klebb sets the stage to bring Bond to justice. Rather than the non stop action Bond fans are used to on screen, Fleming uses the entire first half of the book detailing the Russian plot and creating a psychological buildup for the ensuing action. Thus I read through quickly even though I am familiar with the movie version because the plot easily held my attention.

We meet Bond a third through the book. The Russians have arrived at the scene of the crime and relayed their message to the west. Bond is to go to Istanbul to meet Romanova and bring her and a decoding machine back to Britain. With the help of local agent Darko Kerim, Bond successfully gets Romanova out of SMERSH hands and onto the famed Orient Express, but not before falling for her first. What ensues is a plot of high jinx mixed with romance as Bond journeys toward London in an attempt to foil whatever plot the Russians have in store for him.

Once the action moves from Istanbul to the Orient Express, the plot is non stop action. Fleming creates premise after premise with a large cast of characters so there never is a loss for plot development or new adventures for Bond to get embroiled in. Gleaning from his own experience as a spy during World War II, Fleming's stories are accurate and detailed, not just a plot of action upon action. Of course there is the action and the scrapes that James Bond walks away unscathed from, but there are also scenes in which Fleming pays close attention to detail, making the buildup all the more thrilling.

As in all James Bond cases, he comes out on top. Because this case was against the Russians during the Cold War period, at the time of release it was probably all the more thrilling to read and view on screen. Being the world's top spy, James Bond always gets his man and woman in the end, and it is fun reading about his adventures. A page turner for an otherwise lazy afternoon, From Russia With Love is a solid 4 stars.

I enjoy James Bond films, and while awaiting the debut of Quantum of Solace, found From Russia with Love on the shelves of Kelly’s lake cabin I picked it up, curious to see how Ian Fleming’s character compared to those of the films. One look at the book and it is clear that Ian Flemings novels opposite to the political-military thrillers like Hunt For Red October and the book is marketed as a mystery. Yet the book contains no enigma- the Soviet plot to kill Bond is revealed in the exposition. Perhaps I’m expecting too much out of the 180 or so pages, and it may be that Bond without action scenes is an impossible sell for me. But I found the book underwhelming . The characters other than Kerim are nearly one dimensional, and after the exposition few even get the chance to show personality. The plot seems basic and there is little satisfaction in the way that Bond triumphs over his enemies. Worse, the book is full of the worst offenses era, full of Communist stereotypes, mysoginy, Eurocentrism and homophobia. Perhaps the elements that were once exciting, such as the 4 day ride on the Orient Express now seem banal in a world where Istanbul-London can be little more than a day trip. Whatever the reason, I highly doubt I will ever ponder any element in this book, save when I see the next movie and sigh in relief that I didn’t have to read the book.

Debo decir, en primer lugar, que yo no escogí leer este libro sino que fue fruto de un reto literario de escritura al que me he unido hace ya unas cuantas temporadas: El concurso El tintero de oro. Creo que nunca lo hubiera leído de no ser por esta razón. Y, en segundo lugar, diré que le puse 3 estrellas porque el final me pareció excelente, si no lo hubiera dejado solo en 2 estrellas.

A ver, es un libro que forma parte de una serie de novelas acerca de un conocidísimo espía, lo sé, y también su fama mundial a través de las películas, espectaculares todas ellas. Tenía expectación acerca del libro antes de comenzar la lectura por esta misma razón y, la verdad, me ha costado terminar la novela. Si no hubiera sido por el reto puede que no lo hubiera logrado.

Hay muchos puntos, a mi modo de ver, que me hacen tener esa opinión desfavorable. Los más importantes son un comienzo tedioso donde se expone toda la relación de agencias rusas y su manera de operar que duran, si no recuerdo mal, unas cien páginas más o menos. Ese punto anticuado, no sé bien si de machismo o misoginia que se cierne sobre toda la trama. Una trama demasiado ingenua, o incluso infantil, que sostiene la novela. Una manera de hacer descripciones excesivamente adjetivada, he contado en multitud de ocasiones al menos tres adjetivos para un mismo sustantivo, y cuando se refiere a personajes son tan exhaustivas que hacen salir de la trama pareciendo casi la típica ficha de personaje, puede que sea otro punto anticuado. Y el protagonista, James Bond, tarda demasiado en aparecer, como un tercio de libro.

Como puntos a su favor, hay que decir que a pesar de todo lo anterior y salvando esos tramos tediosos, se lee fácil, es entretenida, tiene buenos personajes y un comienzo y un final espectaculares. Como muestra, esas primeras líneas, pues el final queda para quien lea la novela:

«El hombre desnudo que yacía boca abajo, junto a la piscina, podría estar muerto.

Podría ser un ahogado acabado de rescatar de la piscina y tendido sobre la hierba para que se secara mientras llamaban a la policía o a sus familiares. Incluso los objetos del pequeño montón que había en la hierba, junto a su cabeza, podrían haber sido los efectos personales del hombre, cuidadosamente reunidos a plena vista de modo que nadie pensara que sus rescatadores habían robado algo.»

Además, muestra el modus operandi ruso, que no ha cambiado para nada desde la Guerra Fría, y es bastante esclarecedor de las políticas y la idiosincrasia del pueblo ruso en la actualidad. Hay cosas que nunca cambian. Y también nos da una idea de su odio ancestral hacia occidente.

En resumen, me ha parecido una novela maltratada por el tiempo, con una trama simplista e infantiloide, dirigida totalmente al público masculino, con un desarrollo irregular —partes tediosas y/o excesivamente adjetivadas alternadas con otras buenas de verdad— y que no me ha llamado a seguir leyendo nada del autor. Hasta la portada es fea.

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