"Surround yourself with human beings, my dear James. They are easier to fight for than principles." He laughed. "But don't let me down and become human yourself. We would lose such a wonderful machine."

James Bond, Secret Agent for M16, 007 with a license to kill. This was the 1st entry in Ian Fleming's James Bond series and introduces the world's most famous fictional spy in great fashion.

Bond is in France gambling his nights away at the Royale Casino. It all sounds enjoyable however this is part of a very dangerous and highly expensive mission that could cost the UK Treasury £20-million. An agent of the infamous Russian intelligence outfit SMERSH (Death to Spies) Le Chiffre is in a bit of dilemma. He invested £50-million of his employers' money without their approval into brothels and prostitution hoping to make a quick profit even though the initial funds weren't his. It should have been a sound investment, well, until prostitution was outlawed 3-months later. Le Chiffre, as an expert gambler is looking to recoup his losses by acting as the player/dealer in a super high-roller Baccarat tournament. Bond, as the secret services finest gambler is given the objective to play in this game under the guise of a Jamaican playboy millionaire, and bust the SMERSH agent. The outcome of which would be tragic and fatal for Le Chiffre. SMERSH is not an agency you want to be on the wrong side of.

In the novels, James Bond is very different from what he has morphed in to in the recent movies. Here, we see an attractive but scarred secret agent. Smoker of 70 cigarettes a day, huge drinker, misogynist, cold, and brutally efficient whenever given a task for his country. I'm not saying I agree with his sexist nature but when reading classics I take a step out of our socialisation norms, values and reality and try and place myself in the era of when it was written. Many of characters and trademarks of the series are introduced here for the first time such as dealing with the Chief of Security, M, his receptionist, Moneypenny, the famous "Bond, James Bond" line. At this point, 007's tipple of choice is not a Vodka Martini (Shaken not Stirred), but the Vesper. As a professional, he only allows himself one drink before he does his duty, but he makes it as large as possible as seen below.

Google: Here's how to make the Vesper according to Ian Fleming and James Bond: Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel.

As the first thriller in the series, it features a plethora of elements that have become "part and parcel" of Fleming's Bond adventures. Car chases, kidnappings, torture, betrayal, showdowns, and lovely ladies. The Baccarat showdown is far more intense and realistic than the Poker match in this novels Holywood cousin. I knew nothing about Baccarat but Fleming explains the rules to the reader as Bond is reiterating how the game is played to one of his colleagues. The supporting cast is highly likable including Mathis of the Deuxieme Bureau, Vesper Lynd from M16 (Russian Division) and my favourite recurring character from the books, CIA agent Felix Leiter. The torture scene presented here however infamous is quite famous now as it is presented almost identically in Daniel Craig's first Bond film. The main narrative is completed in about 180 pages. The remaining 48 pages are about Bond reflecting on potential retirement and maybe finding love with someone he has crossed during this harrowing mission. Just as Bond's icy shell starts to melt and he lets someone in the worst thing possible happens and the ending is unpredictable and pretty heart-wrenching.

I had a great time re-reading Casino Royale. It just missed out on a 5-star rating because I don't think it is quite as good as On Her Majesty's Secret Service, Goldfinger, Dr. No or From Russia With Love. A exhillirating and extremely entertaining spy classic that introduced James Bond - arguably the world's most popular fictional character.

So. So. Bad. Also - incredibly, over-the-top offensive. Bond wants the somewhat-withholding Vesper because he knows that making love to her will always "have the sweet tang of rape"??

W.T.F.?

Misogynist zingers aside, it's at least 70 pages too long. When it wasn't repulsive and offensive, it was really boring. I'm not saying it didn't have its fun moments, but they were surprisingly few and far between.

Raymond Chandler is quoted on the back as saying, "Bond is what every man would like to be and what every woman would like to have between her sheets." What I find sad is that Bond does represent a certain ideal manhood - brutal, misogynist, macho, emotionally distant, disrespectful towards and distrustful of women. Disturbing, to say the least.

I want my morning back.

Edit: December 19, 2018 This novel is really two and a half stars, not three, but Goodreads doesn't let me give half stars.

The first thing to know about author Ian Fleming’s James Bond series is Fleming’s novels have a different James Bond character than the one in the movies. Bond is more emo, prone to grandiose thinking while at the same time committing terrible errors of judgement, and he is old-fashioned ignorant in his prejudices about women and people who are not Englishmen. The second thing to know is since the bad guys are demonically evil, there is graphic onscreen torture in most of the novels, including in this book, ‘Casino Royale’, the first book in the James Bond spy-thriller series. Unlike the movies, Fleming does not remove the agonies suffered by his heroic MC to offstage or give him the option of just-in-time rescues. Bond has more flaws and more sufferings and more scars than the movies show.

Almost every man in the post-war Western World needed a cartoon hero like James Bond to be invented, imho. He is a character absolutely designed to boost sagging, ahem, Western male morale after World War II on both sides of the Pond.

The James Bond in Fleming’s book is more emo than the Bond we have become familiar with from Hollywood movies, but Bond has an extreme sense of his masculinity both in the novels and the movies. He sometimes questions his bosses and his government, but he never questions his own manhood. That is what his best attribute is and where his power resides - masculinity. Bond’s exaggerated masculine gender attributes are the defining feature behind his physical prowess, moral compass and loyalties.

In fact, in ‘Casino Royale’ Bond almost loses his penis in the service of his country. The bad guy and crooked embezzler union leader, Le Chiffre, tortures James by tying him to a chair with the seat cut out so that Bond’s naked penis is hanging down. Le Chiffre uses a carpet beater to repeatedly smack Bond’s genitalia until Bond faints, then he wakes Bond up again and smacks Bond’s genitalia some more, for an hour...can this be any more symbolic?

Evil traitor/union leader Le Chiffre is desperate to recover the embezzled union money he used to gamble against Bond at the Casino Royale. He also is terrified of the Russian response to his concurrent embezzlement of secret Russian spying funds along with that from the French union members. He tortures Bond to make him reveal where he hid the check containing his gambling winnings.

After Bond is rescued and is in a French hospital, and in believing his penis is beyond recovery and permanently wrecked, he speaks of retiring to a friend co-worker spy.

Weeks later, Bond realizes he has recovered his mojo when he is able to have sex with a fellow spy, Vesper Lynd. At first upon recovery, he is distracted by a dream of marrying Vesper, settling down into domesticity and maybe becoming an accountant and having children and a mowed lawn - but he suddenly is reminded Evil continues to lurk threatening domesticity everywhere one may try to rest in peace. So, reinvigorated, he vows to end Smersh, the Russian assassination organization and enforcer of Russian spy loyalty, all self-doubts suddenly dissipated.


Many readers think the books are dated because of Bond’s (and maybe the author’s, too) prejudices, but I think they are missing the point of why and for which audience Fleming wrote these spy thrillers. They were intended primarily for British white men, most likely World War II veterans and Cold War enthusiasts, as a fantasy action entertainment in the 1950’s. The novels never were about entering any writing competition for a literary award or for a female audience. Earlier 19th-century American men would have categorized them as a type of ‘dime novel’ which were popular around the 1880’s, which were mythical adventure stories printed on cheap paper available for 10 cents (American dime novels usually were about action characters from a mythical Wild West involving Indians, killer cowboys and sheriffs, heroic bear-wrestling mountain men and train robbers, or later, paranormal gothics).

The James Bond spy stories are exactly like many such male-oriented thrillers today that I have come across (any updating of men’s thrillers have always been only skin deep). Women characters are ALWAYS big breasted, slender and gorgeous, and unusually feisty for a woman in these types of action thrillers, even today. Their intelligence has always been of secondary importance, but usually they are so smart and action-oriented because they have some kind of unusual backstory, usually involving a free-thinking father, even today. Explicit descriptions of cars, airplanes, and weapons are all HUGELY important to the plot, and every other chapter includes explosions, gambling capers, car chases or hand-to-hand fights, with a clock ticking down to a deadly situation, and a certainty that wild sex with the unusual woman protagonist as well as any evil female bad-guy antagonist will be coming up in some chapter before the end. The hero narrator is usually ex-military. Explicit torture and bleeding wounds are common. The Authorities at headquarters are ALWAYS wrong.

In the 1980’s and 1990’s such low-end adventure genre books I read that were intended for men seemed to always have scuba diving scenes. Now (the otts) it is mostly about drones and computers with plot connections to Muslim terrorists. ALL characters seem to know about every weapon ever made except the hapless and stupid civilians. The 1970’s thrillers for men always had ex-Vietnam vets and idiotic hippies who were brain-dead stupid as well as often ending up plain dead for real because of their excessive drug use. Any reader of badass plots starring action men characters throughout the history of male-action thrillers know alcohol is the ONLY respectable vice to drown PTSD miseries!

If you have a problem with low-rent male entertainment, don’t read them. Any popular grocery-store action novel written about men for men will offend your PC sensibilities. Male Romances are not cozies or literary or non-graphic or deeply thoughtful. The James Bond books will never be ok to read if you are a rigidly-doctrinaire PC female. Move along. These books are offensive to the sensibilities of most modern women. Full stop.



I have some additional personal musings about male psychology and male romance novels, such as the James Bond series, below. Without a doubt my thoughts are not PC, either.

Most men seem to be inordinately attracted to action, competition, pack hierarchy and sex. Full stop. They seem to find boredom worse than the threat of dying or physical harm. War satisfies many of these inborn masculine characteristics. Yes, I said it out loud. Bite me. However, many men discover war is WAY outside of their natural red lines, but usually this discovery is made only on the battlefield. But by then, no running away allowed, the mental challenge of the most extreme war excitement, injuries and fear MUST be faced regardless of politics or personality. Fighting in wars means all philosophies, religions, moral theories are left behind, as are all rules, laws and decencies. Yes, I know it is all true as if I had been there, though I have never been. I was raised as a female American child in an underclass home with addicted parents in the 1970’s, and I am well aware of how the formal civilized beliefs, laws, and rules of the middle and upper classes have no reality in the more feral and underserved environments away from all authorities, rules and laws. Ghetto homes can exist outside the boundaries of what people see on the surface as ghettoes. Addicted and mentally ill parents ALWAYS create hellish warzones for their children, so. I KNOW about war mentality and survival of the fittest and the lucky.


Once upon a time not so very long ago, in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s, many Western World men who came back from fighting on the front lines of World War II believed deep down they were nothing but evil murdering or failed sons of b*tches after having seen the horrors and moral confusions of the World War II battlefield, and in personally having felt their sphincters loosen in terror under fire. Battles caused them to become mere frightened animals, not the heroic gods they had expected from themselves.

Many men could not forgive themselves after they returned to normal conditions of civilized behavior because of their real-world personal tests under battlefield conditions. Every man remembered scenes of personal cowardice or of necessary brutality and narcissism to survive war. They had seen friends, enemies or children blown apart in front of their eyes, which they could not stop seeing replayed again and again in their mind’s eye. God seemed to have evaded the military draft.

But in returning to their previous civilized life of complex rules and mores and religious judgements and responsibilities, to a city or farm community comparatively untouched by war or lawless brutality and thus comparatively innocent of any challenges to accepted social norms, many men discovered they could not forget the heart-pounding unthinking simplicity of the excitement or cruelty, even freedom, of war - the need to live only in the moment, the simple basic necessity of staying alive being the main business of every battle. The fact is, war is the high point of many men’s lives, the most amazing thing they have ever experienced. It was kinda wonderful as well awful in retrospect. Despite PTSD, they find themselves drawn back and back to the excitement of the violence, the terror, even the pain, like a tongue poking at an abscessed tooth. I know.

Emotionally frozen or confused after the veils of civilized social and religious beliefs were ripped out of many World War II ex-soldiers’ minds by the reality of murderously spilled blood, environmental filth and human brutality in war, many men wondered what was Life about, really, especially in those days of 8th-grade educations, consistent Sunday church attendance and no TV or internet. They returned home to unreal peaceful streets and the old rules of law or customary mores and class divisions. The ex-soldiers looked upon what they saw as their stayed-at-home clean happy religious Women/Family within what they now knew as the fake thin-skinned bubble of Western civilization. Many Women/Family had worked productively and industriously, illusions intact; but many ex-soldier men saw nothing but moralistic tw*ts without a clue of Reality. Sometimes, often, Rage, formerly directed at ‘the enemy’, was later often directed at government and leaders during the War; then, after coming home, some of them feeling tricked and abused by a Universe which was far more impersonal and mean than they had been taught it was, raged internally at the innocent vapidity of their families, neighbors, bosses and friends.

The ex-warrior men often developed soured hopes in finding new meanings to Life to replace the old illusionary ones everyone at home still had. A jealousy/disrespect of their families/society crept into some ex-soldiers’ hearts because of the Women/Children/Society’s continuing reliance on the old pre-war social innocence and their clearly personal untested philosophies and faiths. At the same time that the men may have felt scornful of their families’ civilizing routines and trustful reliance on what the ex-soldiers felt were disproved beliefs, the men’s judgement of themselves under the uncivilized brutality of war’s raw Reality is and I believe was often disturbingly too shameful to remember or discuss back in the homeland. Or the men were ashamed of how much they yearned to feel the excitement and purity, yes, the simple uncomplicated purity, again of the violence and daily threat of death they had escaped.

Yet most men are hungry for the warmth, comfort and acceptance of loved ones, and some pine for the innocence they had had in the arms of their mothers. Some ex-soldiers of World War II certainly yearned for their old accepted respectable civilized selves and fantasies and hopes they had had before the events of the battlefield.

How can male people revisit and relive their former excessively violent and exciting military lives, even if heroically dramatized, or if a reader who only wants to experience secondhand their wannabe daydreams about actual military or detective adventures, without any social or public condemnation or Reality filters? Enter male romances like the James Bond novels. Whatever you, gentle reader, may think about male predilections, biology, or social training, the fact is these genre books sell by the millions to mostly men, all over the world. Facts are facts.

In the real world of post-war Western grief, emotional devastation, and the resulting loss of belief in the value of social norms and faith which had been nurtured by the previous pre-war society and civilization, I also suspect it was decided by many of society’s movers and shakers and rainmakers that a fairytale heroic purposeful war with heroic soldiers should be emphasized for the social good of post-war Western civilization and general emotional health. It helped the moral cause of Western social restoration that the defeated Nazis had been so evil in fact, and that the Russian Communists became as aggressive and mean as the Nazis has been, echoing a lot of the Nazi tactics in invading other countries.

I think the impersonal war chaos and immorality of survival and death, and loss and destruction, was forcibly redirected and focused only upon a story of the war having been fought heroically for the preservation of the home front and family and honor and democracy values by many Western governments. After all, the patriotic heroism of soldiers isn’t untrue, but fighting wars is always a morally compromising business for soldiers and governments. I think the men and the most of the public needed the redirection of focus on a more simplified and uplifting moral version of war, both because of the downbeat lingering effects of World War II and the necessity to gear up for maybe a new war with Russia in the 1950’s. For example, the noir movies being made by Hollywood during and shortly after the war were terribly bleak and depressing, with morality of characters being compromised or destroyed, reflecting the attitudes of people recovering from World War II and the Great Depression. In the 1950’s, the American government was restructuring public morality to fight a possible new war with Russia and needing to push back against Communism infiltration from spying. Public opinion needed to be remolded generally into something more positive and cheerful, confident. After all, despite the morose post-war mood, the West HAD won the war!

Many of the ex-military men in America and England needed desperately a mirror held up to them explaining the war in terms more black and white, clarified and noble, than what they had actually experienced. They needed a positive moral compass restored inside of their hearts to replace what World War II had taken, for their own sakes as well as that of national interests. To some professional social reengineers, this meant pumping up the volume on masculinity and on being male. Being male was promoted as being heroic in itself, regardless of performance in war or society. I think it was and is an attitude they wanted to promote similar to those parents today who supposedly teach their children they all are A+ no matter what effort, or lack of, they put into being productive or successful. (All the children have to do to be the best is to be breathing, supposedly.) Well, American men were told that being male was their free ticket to being the best in the 1950’s, and the more masculine they were, the more better they were than other people. It appears English men needed to glorify masculinity as well. (Men are apparently the emotionally frail sex, gentle reader.) Masculinity became defined more and more as being a tough hard emotionally-dead guy, always the boss in charge of the weak - meaning primarily being in charge of women. Of course, that meant women had to be socially ‘emasculated’ and redefined as less than after being emasculated. Emasculation was accomplished by firing women all over America from factory jobs and forcing them back inside houses to stay pregnant and vulnerable, specially tasked to raise four kids minimum (to grow more men to fight Communists - a double win-win). Men, to be better than, had to have something to be better than. This was a real thing done to prepare Americans to fight Communism and restore citizens’ (men) resolve to fight another war. (Only men seem to really have most of the attributes for fighting wars. Truth.)

England was suffering a crisis of faith and morality and a sense of losing power, too, after World War II. The war ended the British Empire. They lost control over half of the world, gentle reader! That would deflate any man’s, um, ego.

This is where the spy character James Bond comes in. ‘Casino Royale’ was written in 1952. Bond’s creator, Ian Fleming, was a World War II British navy commander.


“Fleming worked for Britain's Naval Intelligence Division during the Second World War and was involved in planning Operation Goldeneye and in the planning and oversight of the 30 Assault Unit and T-Force intelligence units. His wartime service and his career as a journalist provided much of the background, detail, and depth of the James Bond novels.”

from Wikipedia https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_F...


What do we care about the nonsense of what defines masculine identity in these modern times, except to somehow tame the violent abusive bastards among them. Still, I have seen every Bond movie. I can’t decide if Sean Connery or Daniel Craig is my favorite; but omg, they are the two actors who give a performance of being the most brutal and hyper-masculine fantasy male of the many actors who have been in the role of James Bond.

Damn those genetic influences...and worse, most of us in GR are writing HUGE reviews about what is essentially a B-side cultural novel...

(A-) 80% | Very Good
Notes: James Bond, embittered professional killer, gambles on humanity and love, while we learn the intricacies of baccarat.

Update 2018 - This is still a very well written book that introduced us to the world most famous secret agent. It is so well written by Ian Fleming his skill of descriptive writing have always been the best part of his writing. While I am no fan of a game of baccarat the man writes so well you can actually participating in the fun and games. Fleming as a writer deserves much more credit than he has been given. Always a pleasure re-reading a Fleming novel. They remain some of my favorite rereads. Nostalgic as well. My dad being in the claws of Dementia did recently tell me that is was alright that I took some books form his bookshelves, he did refer to Casino Royale among them. I still have that copy he bought as a young man.

This is the book where the character of James Bond is being introduced to the world. The plot is essentially an idea that the writer Fleming had during the war when he was involved with the intelligence service, where he was involved in an idea to play in a casino against the opposition and make them lose all their money. Fleming did it not as well as his hero.

Casino Royale is IMHO one of the better books with James Bond as main character. In 1953 with the movies still more than a decade away Fleming introduces his hero:

The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning. Then the soul-erosion produced by high gambling - a compost of greed and fear and nervous tension - becomes unbearable and the senses awake and revolt from it.
James Bond suddenly knew that he was tired. He always knew when his body or his mind had had enough and he always acted on the knowledge. This helped him to avoid staleness and the sensual bluntness that breeds mistakes.

The story is highly improbable but the very entertaining. It is a story about gambling, which is very aptly described by Ian Fleming and does transport you to the smokey casino where Bond plays for high stakes. (Fleming has the skill to write very good about card games and golf, no-one could ever interest me for these activities but Fleming).

The plot is very simple but it is all about the gentleman hero/spy and how he plays the game. The mood is very well written by Fleming as are the actions of the secret agent.

In my humble opinion this is one of the more exciting spy-novels written. And well worth a read before any of the modern day thrillers on that subject.

It is hard to analyze Ian Fleming. He's gets points for impact, imagination, style, etc., but I wasn't thrilled with CR. The movie was actually better.

Ian Fleming, the most well-known name in all spy fiction, certainly and without any doubt. Fleming was progenitor of a vast empire of entertainment products --based on the surreal colonial adventures of his elite British troubleshooter -- which have outlived him and --unfortunately, if we speak frankly--overshadow all the original goals he began with. For each one of Fleming's thirteen novels [& nigh all his short stories] there have been major motion pictures derived (at least in name); and there have been video-games spun off; pinball machines, special-edition wristwatches; music albums; automobiles; toys; clothes.

One doesn't have to even have read the books to be familiar with Fleming's world-famous 'agent 007' character—nor 007's foes; his lovers; even his tiniest personality traits. Minor flourishes of Fleming's writing seep out--the way a drink is poured, the way a card is played--via a myriad of commercial channels to overwhelm worldwide popculture. Casual phrases muttered by Bond--the names of obscure henchmen--the car he drives--are bandied about, even by small children.

The campy, genre-parodying adaptations of Fleming's stories have really done disservice to the quality and the substance of what he penned. It was a lean, understated, calm, and confident narrative style which originally placed editions in the 1600 Pennsylvania Ave bathroom for an envious JFK--but are not the works which were translated to the big screen.

Fleming actually wrote with taut, clear-eyed, and un-showy faithfulness towards many elements from his life; his society; and the British military career which inspired his writing in the first place. What were those elements? Authenticity, for one thing. Fleming comes from the fraternity of energetic, upperclass schoolboys who populated Britain's intelligence services between 1890 and 1940; that-death-&-life-of-Colonel-Blimp-era which gave rise to stellar, capable figures like T.E. Lawrence, Maxwell Knight, William Stephenson, Basil Thomson, Robert Baden-Powell, William Robertson, John Cecil Masterman, Dennis Wheatley, Compton MacKenzie, John Godfrey, Mansfield Smith-Cumming, Millis Rowland Jefferis, Alexander Wilson, Stewart Menzies, Lionel Crabb, and Richard Meinertzhagen. These men not only shaped Fleming’s own personality but—-along with a host of other random cutthroats-of-the-era whom he became acquainted with through his service—the Bond character itself.

A multi-talented individual, Fleming began merely in an administrative capacity. Perhaps spurred on by the exploits of his famous elder brother Peter (whom no one today recalls) he very creatively influenced several aspects of Britain’s clandestine war work, eventually rising to supervise "specialized-units-of-men" --much as did his fictional spy-chief character, ‘M’. In that role, Fleming was a perfectionist.

After the war, there was no specific need for the wealthy Fleming to embark upon a lurid series of 1950s action novels. That he did so, suggests he had become perhaps too rooted in war-games and too fond of male camaraderie to settle easily into 'dull civilian routine'. Fleming was surely not the first of the ‘old boys’ to turn to popular literature; Wheatley, Lawrence, and even brother Peter had already done so.

Despite the 'schoolboy' aspect of what he undertook; there’s a side of Ian Fleming which was always shrewd, astute, sober—-very attentive to the world and its trends. The Bond 'romps' perhaps gave him the opportunity to express something new, something rich, and something uniquely his own. He was able to remain an 'effective participant' in the post-war era, even though his part in the game was effectively over.

Unlike the movie franchise, Fleming's prose is not fluff--its quite educated and dense; presenting finely-detailed observations about British life; the class system; colonialism; and professionalism. His eye and his pen roved across issues of status, privilege, gender; violence; and male relationships. Fleming loved travel and exotic-ness; physicality, good-living; but he also loved good taste, sound judgement; tradition, duty. Doing the correct thing.

What is missing from the cinematic Bond is this essential conservatism; this attention to manners and “knowing one’s place” (007 is not a gentleman himself, but knows how to fit in with them). Absent from the films is the James Bond who is weakly, helplessly (even psychotically) addicted to adrenalin, cruelty, and violence; and pathetically dependent--whenever lacking these—upon booze, gambling, sex, and cigarettes. Sanitized-out-of-the-films is Fleming's half-veiled suggestion that third-world peoples really don’t know how to govern themselves. Discernible in the films are paranoid insecurities about failing manhood: James Bond is always an 'Arthurian knight' riding out against fat, bloated, treasure-hoarding old trolls who can’t match his virility. Found in either novels or screenplays is Fleming's remarkable lack of political savvy: long after war's end, he is still painting the world in simple watercolors of 'good guy/bad guy'. Finally--happily shining through in both mediums--is James Bond’s father-relationship with ‘M’; and his energetic efforts to appear responsible, abstemious, and upright before the elder man. This is charming, for the truth is that this 'super hero' is that he is remarkably depraved, vicious, and even sadistic (you can see this in Sean Connery's marvelously unsavory portrayal).

Ultimately [pound-for-pound], the books win out. Unlike the films, the 13 novels possess a rich melange of competing, quirky, delights which can be evaluated on multiple levels at once, sensually absorbed with several faculties at once. Bond novels are read, inhaled, tasted. There's a heady mixture of the baroque with the unadorned, a combination of the straightforward with the surreal. [For an example of the latter, read particularly, 'Diamonds are Forever' to see 1950s America only bettered by that found in V. Nabokov's 'Lolita'].

Whether the bare plots alone of all these icy, man-to-man novels might ever have become watchable movies if handled frugally (in them, the entire free world is rarely at total risk: Bond resolves problems rather quietly) we’ll never know. Additional authors have been hired to keep the book series going after Fleming’s demise. Unfortunately, today's juvenile-minded public crave nothing else except gunbarrels, explosions, jiggling cleavage, and frolicking. Fleming's experiment--his careful, calculated exaggerations; his blending of the 'real' with the 'fantastic'; his real achievement as an author--is neglected.

The franchise--at this point--has so strongly influenced the entire espionage genre for so long with its quips and callousness and jingoism—spawned so many copies and imitations—it’s a phenomenon towards which just as much criticism can probably be leveled, as it can be praised.

But after-all-is-said-and-done, Ian Fleming just can't be beat for the furthering of fantasy and stereotype. There's both good and bad in this (depending on where you stand). One can always bear in mind that the over-the-top Bond ethos certainly had one welcome result: the resurgence of 'dry realism' in the 1960s spy novels heralded by John Le Carre and Len Deighton.

Really more like 3.5/5.0 stars for me. I’ve wanted for a while to read the original James Bond books. I can remember as a kid one of my uncles reading them and talking about it each time a new movie came out. I did enjoy it, although it really is dated in many ways and very different than the movies. I will continue and see how it improves (as I’ve seen some other reviews say they do). I listened to this one on audiobook and the narration was terrific.

The literary debut of James Bond is now 70 years old and it's still a great read.
Casino Royale is one of my favourite novels. Ian Fleming's 1953 007 debut is a superb piece of writing, full of believable & well rounded characters. There are beautifully detailed descriptions of meals, places & other minutiae that Fleming does so well. The plot is well constructed & the characters (from major to minor) reek of authenticity.
Secret agent James Bond may be partly the "blunt instrument" that Fleming created, but here he is also a human being who gets angry, cries & falls in love.
An undeniable classic.

Casino Royale was Ian Fleming's first James Bond book. It is remarkable in many ways. First, it has no techno-gadgets. A tire-shredding mesh thrown from the car of the leading bad guys is about as sophisticated as the mechanical tricks get. Bravo. Sorry, Q old man, this one shines brightly without you.

In all his books, Fleming drew on the tradition of Graham Greene, as Le Carre has done since. And he essentially wrote what he knew, mostly described places he had visited. Granted he may have been basking on the beach and burning his all-too-white, easily freckled skin instead of blowing up missile silos or escaping on jet-powered watercraft. In this book, he trades on his experience at the baccarat table. And if you yearn to learn the game (not that I would advise it!), you will get a full tutorial here, including strategy on when to hold-em, when to fold-em. Nicely done, and a neat example for writers who wish to learn how to liven a narrative simply by adding lots of accurate detail.

Interesting to me, as I had not realized it before, Casino Royale is set in the *north* coast of France, not far from Trouville, near the landing beaches of the Allied troops on D-Day. That region is the vacation home of Parisians during the hot months leading up to back-to-school. (I was there once in St. Malo in early September and I remember getting a great deal on a sweater at Monoprix because all the kids' mothers had already virtually cleaned out the store.) Casino Royale is *not*, as you might expect, in the acclaimed gambling region of the Cote d'Azur (French Riviera) and adjacent Monte Carlo, both of which are busiest in the winter and are much more famous for being the Las Vegas of Europe.

As to sexual politics, of course this Fleming book fails dismally, all in retrospect. The female accomplice Vesper Lynd is the first in a long line of Bond bunkmates that give but don't get happy endings. At one point, Bond muses (in his mind, thankfully) that he would enjoy raping her. I'd say that's about as non-p.c. as you can get these days.

But then Fifty Shades of Grey sold all those books -- to someone!

I snagged this to listen to as I drove through four states, and to help with one of my reading goals for the year - reading more spy books! I had never seen a James Bond film (not even Sean Connery) nor had I read a James Bond book, so this was my first experience. Of course I have some knowledge of him just in the general pop culture way, "shaken, not stirred," etc., and I knew to expect a certain perspective of women. I had also recently watched the BBC show Fleming: The Man Who Would Be Bond, which is somewhat interesting about Ian Fleming's life up until he wrote this first novel.

If your only exposure to Casino Royale is the 1967 film with five directors, a Woody Allen "I'm so quirky and I'm JIMMMY BOND" character, and a retired James Bond, just strike it from your memory. This book is not that story. In the book version, James Bond has just become a "double-O" and is going on his first mission in that level. It's taking him to Monaco, for (I'm guessing his first) encounter with Le Chiffre and a Soviet organization called SMERSH. There are car chases and damsels in distress, agents from all over the world, double agents and intrigue. It was fun to listen to although I suspect James Bond should be a little smarter than he is with women. When I said that to my husband he said, "That's his weakness, that's the point," and well, okay, if we must. Apparently it's worked long enough for decades of novels and movies.

I was surprised near the last third of the book when Bond gets rather philosophical about violence and evil and power. It was pretty reflective, and he was thinking of retiring as the novel ends. (Perhaps this is repeated in future books as well?)

There were two audio versions of this book in Audible and I went with Simon Vance - he does a great Russian, spy-British, and French accent, but his American accent is a bit Texan-meets-Amish.

“Surround yourself with human beings, my dear James. They are easier to fight for than principles.”

So three stars - decent book, entertaining, perhaps not all that memorable or much to recommend to others, wouldn't purchase to read again later.

Casino Royale, first published in 1953, started the whole James Bond craze. It was the first of twelve Bond novels by Fleming although after the success of the Bond movies, others were commissioned to write many more Bond novels. For purists though, there was only one Bond writer and only one Bond actor. Though it was the first book, it was not the first feature movie in the series, that being Dr. No.

The plot is a little odd for what we’ve all come to think of the high stakes Bond situations. Le Chiffre is a Soviet agent in France and has been relied upon to raise the French unions, whose money he invested in a chain of brothels right before brothels were outlawed. To make up the missing money, he is hard at work playing baccarat in a French casino. Bond’s task, should he choose to accept it, for Queen and country, is to play opposite Le Chiffre and bankrupt him. Thus, begins a high stakes card game – stakes that could bankrupt anyone – in the millions and each moment of the game is set out deliberately.

Until the end of the game, we readers are treated to a series of assassination attempts on Bond, quite daring and public, to keep him from completing the game. There aren’t quite the number of action packed scenes we have come to expect in a Bond story.

Bond’s attitude toward women is a bit different here. He is taken aback when his partner is a woman and has misgivings about whether she could possibly be up for the job. And, while he is ready to bed her immediately, eventually finds himself falling for her charms and perfect figure. Indeed, he even thinks at one point that he wants to marry Vesper.

Bond, moreover, is not necessarily as gung ho about the job as one might expect, particularly after suffering capture and torture and wondering who is the hero and who the villain. He is here a bit philosophical about his role in society and whether the license to kill that made him a 00 agent was worth it morally.