Popsugar Challenge 2021 - A book that has a heart, diamond, club or spade on the cover

In all my forty years I've had zero exposure to 007 so when I saw this book in the kindle sale, I thought now is the time to see what all the fuss is about.

I fully admit I went into this with preconceived ideas on Bond. I assumed I'd be in a maze of misogyny,  pumped up males at every turn saving us damsels in distress however I wasn't entirely right on those ideas.

Yes there a lot of misogyny here but having gone into the book expecting it, it didn't bother me half as much and honestly it was written in 1953, if I was written more recently I'd be mad but 1953, I'm not here to fight the battles of the past.

You can very much tell that not only are the male characters misogynistic,  the authorial voice is also. One particular scene made me howl with laughter. When Bond takes a woman back to his hotel room, Bond mentions that he has some things to lock in the safe in another room and Vesper (the woman he met that night) says ..... she will tidy up while she waits. Tidy up! What a line!

And yes there are a lot of pumped up males here blowing their own trumpets.

HOWEVER I did not expect Bond to be such an air head. He's a pretty boy, easily fooled and totally unaware that a female could out smart him. I guess I expected him to be smarter, more savvy, more aware (I mean he's a spy right!).

This is book one in a thirteen (?) book series so I'm looking forward to see how Bond's character grows.

This book hasn't aged well but I think if you go into it knowing that you may enjoy it more and I do appreciate what this author did for the spy genre overall.

Three stars.

James Bond, 007, international icon. It's always fascinating to me picking up a book like this, the first in a series that has far outgrown what the author created, and seeing the original intent. In some ways it's hard to separate the cultural impact of Bond as the icon when reading the book. Tell me honestly, while even thinking of the character, did you immediately jump to Connery, Lazenby, Moore, Dalton, Brosnan or Craig? I know I thought of my favorite interpretation.

The book's Bond is a bit different. He's not immediately assigned the job because he's a super cool secret agent... no he's assigned the job because he's a good gambler. While he does have the classic license to kill, he's apparently only killed two people and only one of them was an up-close fight. Hell, he's still figuring out his martini, and while shaken not stirred is mentioned, I think he only drinks one or two, which means he drinks more wine/champagne in the book instead.

Alright, let's stop comparing. How does the book work on its own?

Honest opinion: it's alright. It's fairly entertaining. Fits pretty firmly in the classic "adventure" fiction. Not my usual big thing, but I can't say I didn't enjoy myself while reading. That said, the misogyny was a big turn off. Yes, yes, I know, it's Bond, I should expect some of that... and indeed I did. I just wasn't expecting his inner monologue and quite frequent outer dialogue for him to refer to the female lead as a "bitch" seemingly half the time he mentions her. That aspect did lower the rating for me as it went beyond "oh, it was a different time" and much more into "wow, either the character is a complete ass or the writer is" territory.

Whenever I read a book, it always takes time to adjust to an author’s writing style. This took longer than expected for Ian Fleming.

I knew that this novel was published in the 1950s, so I obviously overlooked the misogyny and racism, along with the overwhelming info dump at the beginning of the book. Although I cannot definitively state that Fleming is a favored author for me (he isn’t), I do recognize the important role that his books had on both future writing and the publishing industry.

I watched the film prior to reading the novel and (no surprises here) could definitely tell how Hollywood had altered Fleming’s work. Generally, I can’t say this, but I must admit that regarding this particular novel, that I prefer Hollywood’s version.

I recognize that my lack of interest in gambling probably has something to do with my general dislike of the novel. Fleming discussed the “art” of Bond’s gambling in extreme detail and really explained well how to play the traditional casino-style games. I do love spy novels, but so much focus on the mechanics of gambling, along with the-then socially acceptable macho behaviors of the day was a bit much for me.

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 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 avoid staleness and the sensual bluntness that breeds mistakes.

Thus begins Casino Royale, which in 1953 launched the exploits of British Secret Service agent James Bond. Until Harry Potter appeared in the rearview mirror of his Aston Martin, Bond may have been the biggest literary franchise of the 20th century, thanks in large part to the success of twenty-five (and counting) official movies. In terms of film franchises, Bond is second in sustained popularity only to Godzilla, with the jolly green giant generating twenty-nine Japanese produced movies and six American ones. Interestingly, Godzilla arrived in cinemas less than a year after Bond made his debut in booksellers. As a kid, I loved both characters. I still do.

The debut novel by Ian Fleming is stark and claustrophobic, with a handsome visual splendor, spareness of description and a bitter dose of nihilism. Racist and sexist epithets are occasionally thrown in like firecrackers but rather than come off as moral defects for Fleming or date the novel, give James Bond texture and combustibility. Compared to the comic book styling of some of the sillier movies, this is a gambling tale that features spycraft rather than a spy story that features a casino. At 48,000 words, I was able to shoot through it in forty-eight hours, roughly the amount of time one of Bond's missions might last.

Bond's assignment begins in the (fictional) town of Royale-les-Eaux on the coast of northern France, a resort town and site of an "elegantly dilapidated" casino. Bond takes a break from the roulette wheel, where he's actually been keeping an eye on the baccarat table and a gambler named Le Chiffre. He walks to his hotel and learns that ten million francs have been wired to him, approved by M, the head of his department in London. Bond's working capital at the casino now stands at twenty-seven million francs. After checking his room carefully for signs of intrusion, he goes to bed, alone, one hand on a .38 Colt Police pistol under a pillow.

According to a dossier prepared for M, Le Chiffre is a chief agent of the USSR in France and paymaster of a Communist trade union there. His loose spending habits--investing fifty million francs of Moscow's money in a failed chain of brothels--and embezzlement have likely drawn the attention of SMERSH, the Soviet umbrella organization dedicated to smashing agents (the acronym translates to "Death To Spies"). With operating capital of twenty-five million francs, Le Chiffre desperately seeks to refill the plundered union funds at the Casino Royale, where efforts to compete with the neighboring casinos has resulted in a well-publicized and anticipated baccarat bank this June.

Intrigued by the prospect of destroying Le Chiffre at the baccarat table, M selects Bond, one his agency's feared double 0's, a designation earned by agents who kill a man in the line of duty. Veteran of a casino assignment in Monte Carlo and a talented gambler in his own right, 007 is tough as well, a skill he may need if he comes into contact with the two bodyguards Le Chiffre keeps. Bond passes himself off as a fop gambling away a family fortune made on tobacco and sugar in Jamaica. He's assisted by René Mathis of the French Deuxième Bureau and Felix Leiter of the CIA, and to his chagrin, a girl from headquarters, personal assistant to the chief of Section M.

Mathis and Bond exchanged cheerful talk about the fine weather and the prospects of a revival in the fortunes of Royale-les-Eaux. The girl sat silent. She accepted one of Bond's cigarettes, examined it and then smoked it appreciatively and without affectation, drawing the smoke deeply into her lungs with a little sigh and then exhaling it casually through her lips and nostrils. Her movements were economical and precise with no trace of self-consciousness.

Bond finds the girl to be professional and easy to converse with. He recognizes their sexual chemistry and would like to sleep with her, but only after their assignment. Bond later learns her name is Vesper Lynd. Fleming not only pauses to show 007 and Vesper at work--the pair communicate vast amounts of information about each other in the way Bond offers her a glass of vodka, before her amused glance forces him to suggest a cocktail--but also illustrates the sensory experience of a European casino in the 1950s and how baccarat is played, with a round of twelve players dealt two cards with the option for a third, a winning hand adding up to nine and face cards useless.

To separate the novel from the movie, I should state that while Goldfinger (1964) or On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969) are the films typically cited by Bond connoisseurs as the best of the series, with Sean Connery and George Lazenby playing Bond alternately, I'm actually most enamored by Daniel Craig's debut as 007 in Casino Royale (2006). In addition to Bond being reintroduced as rougher and more muscular--a killer--than ever before, Vesper Lynd (Eva Green) and Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen) nearly eclipse 007 in intrigue. The bevy of beauties or deranged villains are interchangeable in a lot of these movies, but not this one.

Casino Royale functions succinctly and beautifully as a world parallel to the film series, beginning in the wake of World War II rather than the Swinging Sixties, and with a slightly rougher and more wayward Bond. For the 007 of literature, and the men who defeated the Axis Powers, Asian stereotypes are simply a matter of professional experience and women belong at home cooking or gossiping, not interfering in men's work. At least one of these prejudices--the one about women's work being in the home--are admirably and tenderly subverted in the course of the novel while the other is an aside that demonstrates Bond's self-isolation more than it does a belief by Fleming.

Fleming's writing is like an Esquire Magazine article without any of the hooptedoodle or parts for men to skip over.

Luck was a servant and not a master. Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or taken advantage of up to the hilt. But it had to be understood and recognized for what it was and not confused with a faulty appreciation of the odds, for, at gambling, the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck. And luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared. Bond saw luck as a woman, to be softly wooed or brutally ravaged, never pandered to or pursued. But he was honest enough to admit that he had never yet been made to suffer by cards or by women. One day, and he accepted the fact, he would be brought to his knees by love or by luck.

Fleming adorns the novel with twenty-seven splendid chapter titles (8. Pink Lights and Champagne, 9. The Game Is Baccarat, 15. Black Hare and Grey Hound) which is something I always like. The story surges in momentum from team building to the big game, then Bond's torture by Le Chiffre and then Bond's romantic duel with Vesper Lynd. Fleming makes the stakes clear in each conflict, articulates both the physical environment and emotional environment succinctly and carries the characters honestly through to their inevitable fate. In contrast to some of the sillier movies in the series, the action is very grounded and there are barely any pyrotechnics, with playing cards and vodka taking precedence to gadgets.

My complaint--and where I think this novel comes up short in satisfaction to the best films of the series--is Fleming's habit of hewing too close to reality. Of the four characters who are killed, only one of them dies in front of Bond. The other casualties occur off the page and seem a bit perfunctory. If you're stuck on a door stopper of short fiction like I was (Edgar Allan Poe) or reading non-fiction that's particularly heavy or deep, I highly recommend giving Ian Fleming a try to blast some cool fresh air through the musty corridor. My reading docket is being revise to make way for the second novel in the series: Live and Let Die.

this is nothing but a pathetic man‘s self-indulgent dream of a more exciting life because in reality he has nothing to live for and no one who loves him. add to that a few handfuls of sexism and, voilà, you have the abomination that is casino royale.

"Well, it was not too late. Here was a target for him, right to hand. He would take on SMERSH and hunt it down. Without SMERSH, without this cold weapon of death and revenge, the MWD would be just another bunch of civil servant spies, no better and no worse than any of the western services."

And so begin the extraordinary adventures of the most famous of all spies. Had it not been for his involvement in bringing down the villain known as Le Chiffre, James Bond could just have been another one of such civil servant spies.

Unfortunately, this is the only aspect of the Casino Royale story that I actually liked. The idea of James Bond and his mission is what draws me to the books, but not in fact the character of James Bond himself.

James Bond, as a character, is an utterly unlikable, chauvinist, self-centered idiot, who happens to be good at playing cards but is otherwise pretty lucky to have anything go his way - whether it is his involvement with women or his actually staying alive.

I first read Casino Royale some years ago, shortly before the film was released, and really liked it for the plot and the fact that a card game could pose more danger to the world's biggest villains than any attempts of arrest or assassination. Incredible! However, I enjoyed that the book dwelt on thinking through Bond's moves at the baccarat table more than on action scenes.

However, on this particular re-read of the story, I felt more drawn to paying attention to the way Bond interacts with the world around him and was reminded why in some of the subsequent books I tend to root for the villains - I just can't stand James Bond.

Would I still recommend this book? Yes. I think it is important to demystify the legend (and the franchise - even tho I do enjoy the films!) and acknowledge that there was a time when the most popular of books was based on a character that was a snob, a chauvinist, a racist, a misogynist, an egotist, and an utter idiot.

2.5* rounded up.

The first novel about James Bond, the 00 agent, takes place at the Casino Royale. He has to outplay a French/Russian operative to take money away from the communists.

If Bond fails in his mission by losing at the card table, then British government will be directly funding communists. No pressure.

I have a thing for Bond. Cool under pressure, fast cars, looks fabulous in a tux...

I thought I would like this a lot, but I didn't. I don't think the story has aged well.

The best parts of the tale took place in the casino itself, the bar or the dinner table.

"Bond had always been a gambler... above all, he like that whatever happened was always one's own fault. There was only oneself to praise or blame. Luck was a servant, not a master. Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or to be taken advantage of up to the hilt. But it had to be understood and recognized for what it was and not be confused with faulty appreciation of the odds. For, at gambling, the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck."

Bond certainly knows how to order a drink:"A dry martini," he said. "One, in a deep champagne goblet... three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet, shake it until its ice cold and then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it? ... I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink is my own invention. I'm going to patent it when I can think of a good name."

His attitudes about women were particularly depressing: "As he drove, whipping the car faster and faster through the night, with the other half of his mind, he cursed Vespa and M for having sent her on the job. This was just what he had been afraid of. These blithering women who thought they could do a man's work. Why they hell couldn't they stay at home and mind their pots and pans and stick to their frocks and gossip and leave men's work to the men?"

This blithering woman is going to put down the book now and back away slowly...

Recommended for... not blithering women?

I believe I'll stick to the films from now on.

Το όνομά του είναι Μποντ· Τζέιμς Μποντ. Οι εκδόσεις Διόπτρα αποφάσισαν να (ξανα)συστήσουν στο ελληνικό αναγνωστικό κοινό τον διασημότερο μυστικό πράκτορα της Βρετανίας, τον εμβληματικό 007. Και το «Καζίνο Ρουαγιάλ», το πρώτο βιβλίο της σειράς, αποτελεί τον καλύτερο τρόπο για μια πρώτη γνωριμία μαζί του.

Όλα ξεκινούν σε ένα καζίνο της Ρουαγιάλ-λεζ-Ο. Ο Τζέιμς Μποντ εργάζεται για τη Μυστική Υπηρεσία της Βρετανίας και βρίσκεται εκεί ινκόγκνιτο για να φέρει εις πέρας μια ειδική αποστολή: να νικήσει έναν Σοβιετικό πράκτορα, τον περιβόητο «Λε Σιφρ», στο τραπέζι του μπακαρά, εμποδίζοντάς τον έτσι να βρει τα χρήματα που χρειάζεται ώστε να καλύψει ένα τεράστιο χρηματικό ποσό που έχει καταχραστεί. Έχοντας τη συνδρομή της δικής του Υπηρεσίας, εκείνης της Γαλλίας και της CIA, ο Μποντ κινείται με χαρακτηριστική άνεση σε έναν κόσμο πολυτέλειας, καλοντυμένων ανθρώπων και συνεχόμενων ρίσκων, όπου τα χρήματα και τα πάθη ρέουν άφθονα.
Όταν το αφεντικό του Μποντ αποφασίζει να στείλει στη Γαλλία μία πράκτορα που θα παίξει τον ρόλο της συνοδού του, εκείνος αρχικά εκνευρίζεται, καθώς θεωρεί πως μια γυναίκα το μόνο που θα προκαλέσει θα είναι μπελάδες. Όταν όμως βλέπει τη Βέσπερ αναγκάζεται να παραδεχτεί πως πρόκειται για μια εκθαμβωτική παρουσία και για μια ικανή βοηθό. Δεν αργεί μάλιστα να παρασυρθεί κι ο ίδιος από τη γοητεία της, όμως δεν ξεχνά ούτε στιγμή τον στόχο του: να φέρει εις πέρας την αποστολή του.
Κι ενώ όλα φαίνονται να βαίνουν καλώς, το σχέδιο περιπλέκεται. Ο αντίπαλός του δεν φαίνεται πρόθυμος να αποδεχτεί την ήττα του και σχεδιάζει να εκβιάσει τον Μποντ, χρησιμοποιώντας τη Βέσπερ. Ο Μποντ θα πρέπει να χρησιμοποιήσει όλη του την εξυπνάδα και τη δεξιοτεχνία, προκειμένου να καταφέρει να γλιτώσει τη Βέσπερ και τον ίδιο από μια μοίρα που φαντάζει ίσως χειρότερη κι από τον θάνατο…



Την εποχή που γράφτηκε το βιβλίο, το 1953, ο Β’ Παγκόσμιος Πόλεμος δεν ήταν μια μακρινή ανάμνηση, αλλά το πρόσφατο παρελθόν. Η Ευρώπη προσπαθούσε ακόμη να επουλώσει τις πληγές της και να ξανασταθεί στα πόδια της, ενώ οι σχέσεις της με τη Σοβιετική Ένωση ήταν συνεχώς τεταμένες, με την προοπτική μιας νέας πολεμικής σύρραξης να κρέμεται συνεχώς σαν απειλή πάνω από τα κεφάλια τους. Η εποχή ήταν ιδανική για να ανθίσει ξανά το είδος του κατασκοπευτικού θ��ίλερ. Ένας μυστικός πράκτορας που μεριμνεί πάνω απ’ όλα για την προστασία της πατρίδας από τον εχθρό, έχει πρόσβαση παντού, υποδύεται διαφορετικά πρόσωπα και περιβάλλεται πάντα από μια αύρα μυστηρίου, οπωσδήποτε θα κέντριζε το ενδιαφέρον των αναγνωστών, που «πεινούσαν» για τέτοιες ιστορίες.
Ο Ίαν Φλέμινγκ, λοιπόν, δημιούργησε τον ήρωα που ικανοποιούσε πλήρως τις αναγνωστικές προσδοκίες εκείνης της εποχής. Ο Τζέιμς Μποντ είναι γοητευτικός, καλοφτιαγμένος. Ταξιδεύει σε μέρη κοσμοπολίτικα, συγχρωτίζεται με πλούσιους και σημαντικούς ανθρώπους, συνοδεύεται από ωραίες γυναίκες και ξέρει να απολαμβάνει τις πολυτέλειες της ζωής -ένα τσιγάρο, ένα ακριβό μπουκάλι σαμπάνιας, ένα εκλεκτό γεύμα- σε μια εποχή που ο μέσος άνθρωπος αγωνιζόταν να τα βγάλει πέρα, δεν είχε ταξιδέψει σχεδόν πουθενά και πολλές φορές στερούνταν ακόμα και τα απαραίτητα. Ο Μποντ, όμως, είναι πάνω απ’ όλα πατριώτης: ένας πράκτορας ικανός, εκπαιδευμένος να ρισκάρει, να σκοτώνει αν είναι απαραίτητο, να διακινδυνεύει τη ζωή του συνεχώς, να βάζει πάνω απ’ όλα το καθήκον. Ταυτόχρονα, όμως, είναι και άνθρωπος· έχει και εκείνος να αντιμετωπίσει τις αδύναμες στιγμές του, τους φόβους, τα διλήμματά του.
Κι αν όλα τα προσόντα που αποκόμισε από την εκπαίδευσή του τον κάνουν ιδανικό πράκτορα, τα συναισθήματα και οι αδυναμίες του τον κάνουν πιο ανθρώπινο, αληθινό, προσιτό, ρεαλιστικό ως χαρακτήρα. Και ο Φλέμινγκ τον έχει σκιαγραφήσει τόσο πετυχημένα και ολοκληρωμένα, που τον έκανε έναν χαρακτήρα διαχρονικό, που ξεπερνά τα χωροχρονικά πλαίσια και μετατρέπεται σε μια Ιδέα. Είναι ο τύπος που όλοι θα ήθελαν για σύμμαχο και κανείς για εχθρό του· ο τύπος που οι γυναίκες ονειρεύονται και κοιτάζουν απροκάλυπτα κι οι άντρες θαυμάζουν αντί να φθονούν· ο τύπος που τη μία στιγμή συμπεριφέρεται σαν εκλεπτυσμένος γόης και την επόμενη σαν αδίστακτος δολοφόνος. Μια πολύπλοκη προσωπικότητα, που όμως ακριβώς σ’ αυτό στηρίζει τη γοητεία της. Σ’ αυτό, και στο ότι δεν προσπαθεί ποτέ να γοητεύσει κανέναν, αλλά το καταφέρνει αβίαστα.



Το βιβλίο αυτό οπωσδήποτε δεν προσδοκά να εντυπωσιάσει τον αναγνώστη στηριζόμενο αποκλειστικά στην πλοκή του. Οι περισσότεροι τη γνωρίζουν, άλλωστε· κι αν όχι, και πάλι ξέρουν πως ο περιβόητος 007 θα τη… σκαπουλάρει στο τέλος. Το στόρυ του, επίσης, από μόνο του δεν είναι κάτι που δεν έχουμε συναντήσει ξανά σε άλλα βιβλία του είδους. Όμως αυτό τελικά δεν έχει καμία σημασία, γιατί διαθέτει δύο ισχυρούς άσους στο μανίκι του – για να μιλάμε και με την ορολογία ενός καζίνο. Και αυτοί δεν είναι άλλοι από τον ίδιο τον πρωταγωνιστή και την πένα του ταλαντούχου, ευφυούς δημιουργού του. Ο Φλέμινγκ περιγράφει με γλαφυρές και απολαυστικές λεπτομέρειες τα πάντα -από τα πανέμορφα τοπία και την κοσμοπολίτικη αύρα του καζίνο μέχρι ένα ρούχο, ένα εστιατόριο, μια απλή, αυθόρμητη κίνηση- προσδίδοντας ζηλευτή αληθοφάνεια και παλμό σε καθένα από αυτά ξεχωριστά. Η ακρίβεια και η πιστότητα των περιγραφών αποτελούν ένα επιπλέον ατού του βιβλίου, που κάνει ακόμα και τον αναγνώστη που ξέρει τι θα συμβεί παρακάτω να το διαβάζει με την ίδια αφοσίωση και προσήλωση που θα το κάνει και εκείνος που εισέρχεται για πρώτη φορά στο σύμπαν του Τζέιμς Μποντ.
Καθίστε αναπαυτικά κι αφήστε το «Καζίνο Ρουαγιάλ» να σας ταξιδέψει στον χρόνο και τον χώρο, με μια αύρα συναρπαστική και κοσμοπολίτικη και με συντροφιά έναν από τους χαρισματικότερους λογοτεχνικούς ήρωες όλων των εποχών.



H κριτική μου για το βιβλίο και στο site "Book City" και τον παρακάτω σύνδεσμο: Casino Royale

First things first, Bond as depicted here is an awful, awful man and I would never want my daughters anywhere within 100 miles of him.


Barry Nelson as James Bond in the 1954 television adaptation of Ian Fleming's Casino Royale

That said, that was kind of the point? I don’t think Fleming in his wildest imaginings could have envisioned the future of the “007” phenomenon, so I viewed this book as a stand-alone presenting us with a heightened reality version of a cynical world of espionage and counterintelligence in post-War Europe. Bond is a not-terribly-competent but all the same supremely arrogant MI6 thug with a reputation as a good gambler but his mission to a casino in the north of France goes terribly awry. It’s bizarre how large swathes of this book just feature him seated at a card table, getting worked over after capture, or recovering in hospital in the company of the lovely Vesper Lynd.


Linda Christian as the original 'Bond Girl' Vesper Lynd in the '54 TV adaptation.

In other words, don’t come to this book looking for epic parkour battles, gadgets, or lewd double entendres.


This geezer's trick cane pistol is about as close to a high tech gadget as you'll encounter in this one. No comment on where it gets applied to Bond's anatomy.

I could expostulate more on what I imagine might have been Fleming’s personal issues or fantasies he was trying to work through in the text but I’ll leave the dime store pop psychology to others.
Recommended, as a time capsule to a much less enlightened age.

Fleming's first James Bond novel is better than brain candy, though it is a quick one-sitting read. Notice how the characters are characterized by their ciragettes -- Felix Leiter only smokes Chesterfields, Bond smokes a Turkish/Balkan blend made by Morelands on Grosvenor Street, Le Chiffre smokes Caporals and Gauloises. Curiously, I found Bond's misogyny in the beginning and his sensitivity at the end a little overwrought, but I liked the Vesper Lynd character much more than her counterpart in the recent film. I was glad, also, to have finally had the game of Baccarat explained to me, and I have a new strategy on the roulette table.

[Some unusual diction was occasionally distracting, particularly the frequent colloquial use of "directly" instead of "as soon as". I didn't know you could do that.]

SMERSH is a *far* more terrifying and interesting enemy than the SPECTRE of the Bond films.

I give the book 4* and the movie 5. The first of Fleming's novels, this one did not become a movie until 2006 because Fleming didn't believe the public was ready for an assassin like James Bond character which Daniel Craig played to perfection. Craig was 40 when he made the movie and now he's the longest running 007. I tried the weight training regime DC used to get in shape for the film, and it nearly killed me, but I was ripped for like 3 months! :/

I can acknowledge that this isn't the best book written in the spy genre. It does do a couple things extremely well. It is a great introduction to the famous James Bond. We learn a good bit about the legendary man without giving away too much. This causes an air of mystery and intrigue, which fuels the reader to check out more books in the series. It's a manly read for the civilized intellectual, chock full of sweet weapons, cars, and gadgets. Bond isn't some jock looking for a fight and is instead cool, calm, and collected. The writing sweats an addictive level of confidence any reader can be jealous of without coming off as pretentious. Without giving too much away, Bond is a skilled agent of death while still being vulnerable to human emotions and error. I think a lot of modern day authors mistakenly tend to put their main character into one of two buckets, God or wimp, making them unrelatable or simply unlikable.