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Wednesday, February 27, 2008

You Only Live Twice

After the critical and popular misfire of The Spy Who Loved Me -- A literary experiment that was noble in intention but fell apart in execution -- the pressure was on Ian Fleming to deliver a top notch Bond adventure to make up for things. At the same time, it's obvious that Fleming was beyond the point of wanting to crank out another by the numbers book. He was going to have to find a way to work within the expectations people had of what a James Bond book would deliver to them, but find ways to tweak and alter the formula where he could. The result was On Her Majesty's Secret Service, regarded by many -- if not, indeed, most -- people as the finest Bond adventure Fleming ever wrote. For most of its pages, it is an exceptionally well executed but formulaic Bond adventure. The twist comes near the end, which leaves Bond an emotionally shattered man, cradling the body of his dead wife.

No one was expecting such a visceral punch to the story, and all ill will generated by The Spy Who Loved Me was largely forgotten. People were shocked and enthralled, and needless to say, they were hungry to know what happens next. Fleming answered that question with You Only Live Twice.

You Only Live Twice was described to me as featuring a James Bond who has completely broken down and become more or less unable to function in society, let alone in the high-risk, high-pressure world of being an international jet setter and assassin. The prospect of reading about Bond attempting to complete a mission in that state of mind seemed fascinated, and even more ambitious than Fleming's last book. Whether or not Fleming would have been up to the task will remain unknown though, for while You Only Live Twice does indeed begin with Bond as a shattered man, it isn't long before that fragile state is dropped in favor of Bond more or less as we've always known him, rambling around Japan with his new buddy Tiger Tanaka. While this may not be as challenging as the way the book is often pitched to people, it's not necessarily a bad think, as I personally have my doubts as to whether or not Ian Fleming would have written a good novel under the yoke of keeping Bond destroyed. As it is presented to us, You Only Live Twice turns out to be a fabulous adventure lent more depth thanks to the previous book.

M is torn as to what do with Bond, and seems to waver radically between nursing the agent back to health, firing him, or just having him killed. Indeed, sympathy for Bond seems to be wearing thin within the ranks, as many other agents and employees had undoubtedly lost loved ones as well, and Bond's period of incompetence due to mourning seems to be dragging on far longer than it should. Though it's never expressly explored, Bond's reaction to Tracey's death and his prolonged depression after it despite being so familiar with the Grim Reaper himself, lends itself to interesting chances to theorize about Bond's mental state as a whole and the psychology of the way he often latches somewhat desperately onto women and falls in love instantly. But if these examinations were intended by Fleming, they are never really expounded upon in the book, and it would have been irritating if they were.

Eventually it is decided that the best way to snap Bond out of his deep blue funk is to saddle him with an impossible, but not entirely dangerous, assignment. This turns out to be negotiating a secret services treaty with the Japanese, headed by a gruff and stubborn character named Tiger Tanaka. Bond bellyaches a little bit about the nature of his assignment, but once he arrives in Japan, he does indeed shake off much of his depression as he throws himself headlong into the difficult task of dealing with the Japanese -- and Japanese secret agents, at that. Luckily, Tanaka is exactly the kind of man Bond always develops man crushes on, a boisterous, good-natured bear of a man with a warm, dry handshake (essential if you want Bond to like you) and an appetite for the finer things in life.

Bond discovers that Tanaka is willing to agree to England's proposed cooperation treaty if Bond does Japan a favor -- and it is here that the nature of Bond's mission in Japan is altered drastically. It seems that a Westerner has taken up residence in a giant castle in the south of Japan and there cultivated a garden comprised entirely of deadly poisonous plants and animals. This garden has, in turn, become a popular spot for Japanese looking to kill themselves, suicide being one of Japan's national pastimes. Tanaka himself can't move against the man, who has technically committed no crime even if the secret service suspects him of far more nefarious schemes, but perhaps an outsider could have a look around and see what might be done about this mysterious and eccentric doctor of death.

Bond agrees and soon finds himself in "how to be Japanese classes," including ninjitsu training, so that he might work undercover from his new base in a small fishing community, where his assistant in matters will be one female agent, Kissy Suzuki. As hardly needs mentioning, Bond will eventually discover the true identity of this mysterious doctor to be of keen personal interest. Once again, it's another fairly massive coincidence, unless of course, you operate under the assumption I do that M knows far more when he sends Bond on these adventures than he admits to knowing.

Although the events of the previous book cast a palpable gloom over You Only Live Twice, this story itself is largely another one of Bond's breezy sightseeing tours along with another cool guy. They cruise around, get massages, drink sake, and spend the entire middle section of the book sort of wandering around Japan so that Fleming can deliver various travelogue passages. Fine by me, really, as these aspects of the books have always been among my favorites. Once Blofeld reemerges on the scene, things obviously get more serious, resulting in You Only Live Twice being a curious but very effective blend of lighthearted adventures like Diamonds are Forever with the dark, emotional seriousness of On Her Majesty's Secret Service.

With You Only Live Twice, Fleming delivers a complex story, well rendered and expertly paced, if not a bit far-fetched in certain aspects. It has the speed and adventure of the best action-oriented Bond stories -- Doctor No and Thunderball, for example -- but is a decidedly denser, more complicated work, showing that Fleming really had improved tremendously at his chosen vocation. If there is any weak spot in the book, it comes int he final pages, which while ending on another spectacular cliffhanger, also resort to one of the hoariest cliches imaginable. Still, that's small complaint when surrounded by such a fantastic novel as this, and as with On Her Majesty's Secret Service, the final page of You Only Live Twice leaves me ravenous for more.

That more would come in the form of The Man With the Golden Gun, the final James Bond novel written by Ian Fleming....

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posted by Keith at | 2 Comments


Thursday, February 21, 2008

Avakoum Zahov Versus 07

Written by Andrei Gulyaski
Published by Scripts Publishing 1967

I generally lounge around in a dinner suit, seated in a candy coloured bean bag, nursing a vodka martini while watching spy films from the sixties. But today, with your indulgence, I am going to slip into a burgundy crushed velvet smoking jacket, light my pipe, pour myself a balloon of brandy and make my way to the library. I have a strange little story to tell. It’s the story of a book called Avakoum Zarhov vs 07

Now after scouring the internet (and there isn’t that much information out there – most use Wikipedia), I have worked this much out. How much of this is true, is open to debate...and I am sure there are people out there who have a far greater knowledge of this project than I (if you are one of them – I’d love to hear from you). Firstly, we are talking mid sixties. Ian Fleming is dead and Kinglsey Amis hasn’t yet written his Bond continuation novel Colonel Sun. So there is a gap to fill. Apparently Bulgarian author Andrei Gulyashki approached Glidrose (the Bond book publishers) and told them that he had written a NEW James Bond novel. Glidrose weren’t interested. Gulyashki decided to publish his book anyway. Gulyashki was quite vocal in his quest to publish his Bond novel. So much so, that the press dubbed him ‘The Vulgar Bulgar’.

In the Titan comic strip edition of Goldfinger, there is an article by Vladislav Pavlov entitled Behind Enemy Lines: The Russian Perspective. This is what he briefly has to say about Avakoum Zarhov vs 07.

'...Bulgarian writer Andrei Gulyashki (known for his series about the Bulgarian secret agent Avakoum Zakhov) announced his intention to write a novel in which his hero would be fighting the notorious 007. (Behind the Iron Curtain, the notion of copyright was always been a bit vague, to put it mildly). When it became known to the proprietors of the literary Bond franchise (Glidrose) they naturally banned Gulyaski from using either the number 007 or the name James Bond. As a result, the name of the villain disappeared and the number 007 was shortened to 07, the British agent acting in Bulgaria under the control of the NATO intelligence division.

In his book Gulyashki did all he could to defame the character, picturing him as mean and stupid, substituting, in a way, the role of 07 for the Russian SMERSH leaders described by Fleming in From Russia With Love. There was, however, one notable exception: whilst Fleming, describing the villains in such a grotesque way, was only pulling the reader's leg, Gulyashki's villain, created for the benefit of Soviet propaganda, looks infinitely dull and serious. The book has been rumoured to have been published in English, and is even considered a kind of Holy Grail amongst some Bond collectors for it's extreme rarity. However, few people realise that the carpenter's cup can't be made of gold.'


The rumours that Pavlov mentioned are true. Avakoum Zarhov vs 07 was published in English, but only in Australia by a company called Scripts. Firstly as you would have gathered from the information above, this is not an official James Bond novel, but still it's a Bond story and one that not many people will have a chance to read about, so I will be fairly detailed in my description. Without further ado, here is a review of the Holy Grail of Bond books - the one, the only, the infamous Avakoum Zarhov vs 07.




FROM THE INSIDE COVER:
07 had been given his assignment. He must kidnap a Soviet scientist who had just perfected the deadliest laser yet devised...

A thrilling adventure of intrigue and fast paced action unfolds as Avakoum Zahov pursues the wily western spy through Bulgaria to Paris, then Tangiers and finally confronts him in the ice-locked vastness of the Antarctic...

“Zahov was slipping over the edge of the bottomless crevasse. 07 towered above him. Zahov tried to hold on but he couldn’t. His feet dangled into emptiness. 07 aimed a kick at his face.”


The novel opens in London. 07 has just returned from a mission in the Philippines and is now meeting The Chief (‘M’ is referred to as ‘The Chief’ of Department A) in an exclusive club on St. James Street. 07 isn’t given another mission, but told he has seven months to learn how to speak Russian like a native Muscovite.

Seven months later, 07 speaks fluent Russian and is called into another meeting with The Chief. Again he is not given a mission. Well, not officially anyway. In fact he is sent on leave. Paid leave. But all is not as it seems, because an officer from NATO is to call on 07 tomorrow. He will make a proposition which 07 can either choose to accept or reject.

The next day a NATO officer named Richard visits 07’s apartment. It seems the Soviets are in the process of inventing a new weapon.
“Some kind of H-bomb?”
“I wish it were as simple as that. No, in comparison to this new weapon, the H-bomb will be about as effective as one of those slings in the Bible they used to put bumps on the heads of the chosen of Israel! No, this is a highly developed laser beam which can disable electro-magnetic waves. Have you any idea what this means?”


I must confess that I don’t know what it means, but it sounds nasty. 07 thinks so too, and chooses to go ahead with the ‘unofficial’ mission.

07 moves onto Istanbul for the next section of the story. He meets a contact who provides a new passport and makes preparations to send 07 on his way to Bulgaria. The Soviets in this part of the world are not fools though and have a whole surveillance system dedicated to tracking 07’s whereabouts.

Avakoum Zahov enters the picture. His passion is archaeology and he is described as a ‘hunter of spies; and ancient monuments buried in the earth.’ But his mission is not to watch Agent 07. He is assigned to protect Professor Konstantin Troffimov. Troffimov is to attend a symposium on Quantum Electronics in Varna. He made world headlines when ‘he discovered a laser ray which could not be refracted by any mirror surface and which could penetrate all matter and totally paralyse all kinds of eletro magnetic waves...’

The arrangement is that Professor Stanilov, one of Bulgaria’s top scientist, will play host to Troffimov at a small villa set beside the sea. Zahov arranges security at the villa, hand selecting a team of men to keep watch twenty four hours a day. Meanwhile, another Department B officer, Colonel Vassilev is assigned to watch 07’s movement. The Soviets know he is in the area, and that he is posing as a Swiss reporter, named Rene Lefevre.

Making preparation for Troffimov’s arrival at the villa, Zahov does his rounds, then heads to the beach side to check that out too. As he stares out to sea, he sees 07 swimming past. Elsewhare in Varna Professor Troffimov flies in from Moscow on a special military aircraft, and then is transported to the small villa. Zahov has agents everywhere to protect the Professor. There are two gardeners, and a valet who have been specifically chosen to protect Troffimov, as well as the usual detail of security staff.

Over the next few days, Troffimov attends the symposium. Everybody is expecting 07 to make a move to kidnap the Professor, but he has other things on his mind. It appears that Gulyashki thinks that Fleming's Bond is a lecherous swine. So he paints 07 in such a light.

"...when the chambermaid came in to pour some fresh water into the vase, he put his arm round the girl's waist and drew her to him. The girl did not seem particularly surprised, she only went on holding the pitcher. Then his hand slipped down the curve of her knee, lingering a second or two on the cool skin before travelling upwards. Who said that marble was the smoothest thing under the sun?

This piece of living marble had muscles and his hand felt them go rigid, then wake with life. So this white-aproned girl had the hips of a sportswoman! Lying on the chaise-lounge, he could not see her face, but that didn't matter. He drew her closer to him. The cluster of amber grapes hanging so near him made him giddy.

Then the empty ice-cold pitcher struck him on the chest. He was aware of the sensation because his chest was bare and his skin hot with the sun. Ice! The girl pulled herself away and burst out of the room."


For those who didn't 'get it', the 'cluster of amber grapes' that Gulyashki describes are in fact the girls breasts. He really makes 07 seem like a smutty schoolboy.

Anyway back to the plot. Colonel Vassilev's men are watching 07 closely. For the last few days during the symposium, 07 and a female companion spend time on a boat out to sea. Each day they row out, and frolic about. Sometimes 07 fishes, sometimes the couple just hold each other. Or so it seems. In fact it isn't always 07. He has an inflatable version of himself made up. He inflates it on the boat, dresses it in his clothes, and has his female accomplice hold the effigy in a loving embrace. Meanwhile he slips over the side of the boat in a wetsuit and sets in motion his kidnap operation.

After the last day of the symposium, 07 succeeds in kidnapping Professor Troffimov and his secretary, Natalia Nikolaevna. His infiltration of the small villa seems to be quite brutal. He kills one of the gardeners and a garage attendant, and severely injures the valet. Once again, Gulyashki's interpretation of the Bond character is quite different to what we are used to. Sure we know that Bond has a License To Kill and we have read about (or seen on the cinema screen) Bond killing people. But generally, everybody that Bond kills is trying to kill him. But in Gulyashki's novel 07's incursion isn't described (well not initially anyway - see below). Instead we see it through the eyes of Avakoum Zahov who arrives late on the scene. We see the brutal legacy that 07 has brought to bare on the staff of the villa. It's an interesting observation by Gulyaski. and one that has been lampooned in films like Austin Powers or even in a episode of The Simpsons (You Only Move Twice). 07's victims are not faceless or nameless henchmen, whose lives have no value. They are people who are just doing their job, and at the end of the day, go home to their family. 07 is portrayed as a real villain.

To escape the villa with his prisoners, 07 has Professor Stanilov drive out the front gate, with 07, Troffimov, and Nikolaevna hidden under a blanket in the back. How the sentries missed that one, I'll never know. At gunpoint Stanilov drive's them out of the city. Then three hours later, Stanilov's body is found lying beside a road (another example of Bond's brutality).

Avakoum Zahov sets up a command centre at his apartment. All roads, the airport and sea ports are closed off. Later Zahov's superiors gather to hear a report on the kidnapping. Zahov, with almost Holmseian powers of deduction has pieced together 07's movements. He recounts how 07 abducted the Professor:

"He stealthily climbed up the staircase. On the topmost landing he shot the other guard. The guard groaned as he rolled down the steps, his arms flung out, his face down. Dazed with sleep, the 'valet' had jumped up to open the door, but 07 was already on the threshold, striking the man's jaw with gun, and the 'valet' sunk to the floor.

The 'valet' was put out of the way and now the second round began. The Englishman stole out through the living room onto the veranda. The windows of both bedrooms were open. He drew the curtain aside, slipping into the first bedroom. 07 could tell by the breathing that it was occupied by the professor. He brought the cottonwool padding close to the sleeping man's nose. One second, two, three. 07 was patient. The breathing became irregular and lower, it was hardly audible. Then he took the syringe out of his pocket, and gripping the professor's arm at the elbow, plunged the needle into the muscles.

"It was an expert job because he had had a lot of practice at this. Now the professor would be fast asleep for many hours, perhaps for many days and nights.

"He did the same in the other bedroom. Natalia Nikolaevna also went into a death-like sleep.

"07 was thorough. After the job was finished, he left nothing behind, putting everything back in his pockets, even the vials.

"Then, one after the other, he took both Konstantin Troffimov and Natalia Nikolaevna into Stanilov's car. His muscles were well trained and carrying them, 60 to 65 kilograms each, was a mere detail. He went back for their luggage, leaving nothing behind. He placed the two drugged persons on the back seat, covering them with a sheet he had snatched off Natalia Nikolaevna's bed.

"That done, he tiptoed into Stanilov's room and roughly kicked him out of bed. Two slaps across the face brought him back to consciousness. They fought like two tigers. Why, we don't know. But the thieves had fallen out. Perhap's Stanilov was beginning to crack and 07 was ensuring that his tracks were completely covered. Anyway, in his jacket and trousers, with no shoes on his feet, Stanilov sat behind the wheel of the Citroen – that was the final act. maybe he felt the barrel of a gun at his back?"


After the kidnapping and killing Stanilov, 07 leaves Varna in a boat and sails to a pre-designated spot, where he is met by a freighter. 07, the Professor and his secretary are taken on board, and move on towards their next destination.

Of course it can't be left like that. Avakoum Zarhov must rescue Professor, and regain the ray. After a bit of investigation; scouring radio signals and breaking codes etc. the Soviets believe they have 07 located on a freighter in the Mediterranean. Unfortunately they do not know where he intends to make port. But the case must progress, so Zahov flies briefly to Paris. From intercepted radio signals, next he learns that one of the likely locations where 07 will put to port is Tangier. And furthermore, he is to be met by a man codenamed 'Hans'.

Zahov flies to Morrocco, and pretending to be a French Interpol Agent, makes his way to the German Embassy. There he enquires about German citizens who have arrived in Tangier over the last week. There had been five men, but four had moved on to other parts of the world. Only one had stayed. His name is Professor Paul Schellenberg. Zahov guesses that this is 'Hans'.

Schellenberg is a very paranoid man. He believes that people are trying to kill him. Maybe they are? He was a scientist during the War and now he is a wanted War Criminal, for work he carried out at Auschwitz.

Zahov has an interesting method for meeting Schellenberg. He arranges for a local taxi driver to attempt to side-swipe Schellenberg as he crosses the street. Zahov's plan is, at the last moment, to snatch him back from the 'jaws of death'. Zahov's plan goes like clockwork. He save's Schellenberg's life and in return is invited for a drink.

At a bar in a back alley, Schellenberg tells Zahov that he knows who he is. Schellenberg believes that Zahov is a body guard who has been sent to protect him (It is never really mentioned who Schellenberg believes would send a body guard, but it is heavily intimated that it is NATO). Zahov assumes the role, that Schellenberg has assigned to him. As a 'protective measure', Zahov suggests that Schellenberg sleeps at his hotel that evening, and he will sleep at Schellenberg's. This gives Zahov time to go through Schellenberg's belongings, then find and doctor his passport to suit himself.

The next day, after drugging Schellenberg, Zahov learns the details of Schellenberg's rendezvous and impersonates him at the meeting. Zahov is taken to be Schellenberg, and is brought on board a ship docked at the harbour.

I must admit that I found this middle section of the book to be the best. As 07 is virtually absent, and the story concentrates on Avakoum Zahov's investigation and manipulation of Schellenberg, rather than maligning the James Bond character, the story becomes a simple but entertaining spy adventure. This is the way it should be – but alas, there's still a third on the novel to come, and 07 is back in Gulyashki's sights.

Indeed Zahov's hunch is right, and he ends up on the ship as it sets sail for whereabouts unknown with 07, Troffimov and Natalia Nikolaevna. But strangely, Troffimov and Nikolaevna do not truly realise that they have been kidnapped. You see, the ship has a high-tech radio device on board. When somebody sends out a message, it can come back to a smaller hidden radio device, also on the boat. This 'secret' radio can then return a message, pretending to be another radio contact. I know that's hard to make sense of, but here's how it worked. When Troffimov and Nikolaevna first awoke on the ship, they believed they had been kidnapped. 07 convinces them otherwise by allowing them to contact Moscow on the radio. They send their message but it doesn't really go to Moscow. It circles around to the small radio, where it is decoded. Now, pretending to be Moscow, the small radio then sends back a message saying that all is well and 07 can be trusted.

During the ocean voyage, there is a strange passage where Zahov writes the events of the day (in invisible ink, no less) into his diary. And instead of reading the story, we are now reading Zahov's diary. This results in the story switching from being told in third person to first person.

Later Zahov uses the hidden radio to trick 07. 07 is supposed to order the ship to sail to Capetown, but Zahov sneaks into the hidden radio room, and pretends to be passing on new orders from NATO. He has 07 order the ship to the Antarctic.

Gulyashki continues to present 07 as stupid and cruel. Obviously he is stupid for falling for the radio ruse, a ploy that he in fact instigated. 07 is also presented as a cruel brute when he has his valet tortured (cigarettes stubbed out on his neck), and then hung from the mast for eveybody to see.

As the ship moves further south, it gets caught in the ice and eventually the hull is pierced. The ship sinks, but not before 07 has dragged Troffimov and Nikolaevna onto the ice pack.

Naturally Zahov also escapes from the ship, just before it disappears beneath the sea. On the ice, the weather is deadly. Somehow, Zahov manages to find 07 and the others, and he uses his skills to save them (even 07). He builds an igloo, and kills a seal for food and heat. But before the ship sank, 07 had radioed for an Icebreaker to meet them. Equally Zahov had radioed for an aeroplane to meet them. With rescue from both sides, 07 and Zahov face off to take control. This results in a wrestling match on the ice.

Some other reviews suggest that Zahov doesn't kill 07 in the end. I beg to differ. Zahov forces 07 over the edge of a hundred foot crevasse. I guess Gulyashki doesn't describe 07's death, and there is a miniscule chance that he survives, but really, the intention is to KILL 07.

The Soviet plane reaches Zahov, Troffimov and Nikolaevna first. They climb on board and fly to safety. World peace is restored.

FROM THE BACK COVER
Avakoum Zahov
His name was whispered with dread in the spy centres of the West.
Zahov?
Who was he?

The daring exploits of Agent 07 are well known to readers in the Western countries.

BUT WHO KNOWS THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY?

How do the Communists view the renowned British agent and his anti-espionage adventures?

We find out in this exciting story by Bulgaria's bestselling author, Andrei Gulyashki, the creator of Avakoum Zahov, top agent for Department B, a gentle, perceptive, educated man of good taste and great charm who has a passion for archaeology and Mozart and who sees 07 as a sinister threat to world security.

In the final struggle between the world's greatest Secret Agents-one must lose. And the loser must pay the penalty for defeat!

AVAKOUM ZAHOV – BULGARIA'S TOP AGENT MATCHES WITS WITH HIS WESTERN COUNTERPART – THE INFAMOUS 07.

ANDREI GULYASHKI was born in Bulgarska Rakovitsa village, district of Koula, in 1914. He participated actively in the resistance movement. Took up writing in 1931. He worked as editor for the newspapers "Rabotnichesko Delo" and "Otechestven Front," the magazines "Septemvri" and "Plamuk" and is Director of the National Theatre in Sofia at present. Twice awarded Dimitrov Prize, the highest honor for works of literature and science in his country.


The writing in Avakoum Zarhov Versus 07 is very clunky and sometimes I had to read a paragraph again to work out it’s meaning. I am sure that this is due primarily to the translation from the original Slavic language. Some translations appear to be quite literal. Mr. Gulyashki could not possibly be such a poor writer. In some sentences it even appears that words have been omitted. Hardly the worst transgression, but to give you an idea, here’s a passage from the book.

“The man in the white overalls ordered from the dais and now his voice was unusually excited...”

Now I am hardly an expert on language, but surely replacing ‘ordered’ with ‘shouted his orders’ or even ‘commanded’ would read much more smoothly.

Avakoum Zarhov Versus 07 also features a lot of purple prose. A few highlights from the first few pages include:

‘The black asphalt flowed furiously against him, ...”

‘...the rye moved like a swishing sea of gold.’

‘...along the yellow flagstones glittering like a golden river...’

‘Fresh and alive with green leaves, the morning sun streamed into his room...’

I have nothing against good descriptive writing. But in this novel almost every page is littered with clumsy coloured descriptions. Maybe they’d be okay if they flowed with the story, but they are really incongruous. This criticism may be due to the translation, and then again it may be a case of trying too hard to be swinging ‘sixties’. The kaleidoscope of colours is off the chart.

So there it is. Avakoum Zarhov Versus 07 may be one of the rarest books in the Bond canon, but it certainly isn't one of the best. Apart from the clumsiness of the writing, the book is as Vladislav Pavlov stated above, a Soviet propaganda piece. The Bond character is not presented in a positive light. He is a brutish, sleazy thug, without an ounce of style or class.

The book is a curio at best. For Bond fans I can understand the curiosity and the fascination with it; hey, I am right there with you. But hopefully this review will have dispelled some of the myths surrounding the book. It isn't that good.

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posted by David at | 8 Comments


Sunday, February 17, 2008

James Bond: Sewell Versus Ogilvy

For You Eyes Only
Penguin Books 2002

Live And Let Die
Listen For Pleasure / Music For Pleasure 1984

Here’s a quick observation, rather than a full blown review. As I spend most of my working day in front of a computer, quite often at the end of the day, my eyes are pretty shot. Sometimes I cannot even watch television or read a book. My eyes simply need time to rest. Usually I just turned down the lights and put on a CD. But recently I have discovered audio books. At first, I was pretty reticent about purchasing an audio book. To me it seemed like a product aimed at old people that could no longer focus. But I relented and picked up the Penguin edition of For Your Eyes Only, read by Rufus Sewell.

I wont go into a review of the story, Keith has already tackled that. For those that want a refresher Click here.

Needless to say, I quite enjoyed revisiting the Bond stories, albeit in a different way. I enjoyed it enough to think about obtaining a few more Bond titles. But rather than buying them from a bookshop, I though I’d check what was on ebay. A local vendor was selling three audio books from the early 1980’s, read by Ian Ogilvy.

Now this may be a stupid thing to say, because it had never occurred to me. I never thought that audiobooks would get updated like a paperback. Just as there are reprints of your favourite books, there are re-recordings of your favourite books in audio format.

Naturally I put in my bid on ebay and won. A week later my new acquisitions arrived. The first book I tackled was Live And Let Die (which happens to be my favourite Bond Story). Once again, for those who want a refresher, click here for Keith’s review.

No offence to Mr. Sewell, after all, I had quite enjoyed his rendition of For Your Eyes Only, but compared to Ian Ogilvy, he’s a crap story teller. I was stunned at the difference. Ogilvy has a rich powerful baritone voice. His reading has a power that was missing in Sewell’s reading. Ogilvy excels at the men’s voices, and American accents. Whereas Sewell, is quite good at European accents and the female characters.

Taking that a step further, your enjoyment of an audiobook can be improved or diminished by the reader. If you were to go to Amazon and enter a search for James Bond Audiobooks, quite a list comes back. An equally large selection of readers is available to choose from to. Therein lies the dilemma. Who do you pick? Do you find one reader and stick with that guy (or gal as in the case with The Spy Who Loved Me)? Or do you spread yourself around and sample as many readers and voices as possible?

I must admit, I don't have the answers...but it is food for thought, next time you are in your favourite bookstore and you spy an old classic as an Audiobook.

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posted by David at | 2 Comments


Sunday, February 10, 2008

Ratcatcher

James McGee, Harper Collins (2006)

You don’t send a gentleman to catch vermin. You send Hawkwood.

Ratcatcher while being quite enjoyable is a ‘Goldfinger’ book. Have you ever watched Goldfinger? Have you noticed that James Bond doesn’t really do anything. He falls into nearly every trap, and in the end, one of the other characters (Pussy Galore) saves the day. Okay, Bond was the catalyst for Pussy’s change of allegiances, but really Bond didn’t do to much. That brings us to Ratcatcher by James McGee.

Ratcatcher is a historical adventure novel set in London, during the early 1800’s. The hero of the story is a Bow Street Runner (an early policeman) called Matthew Hawkwood. Hawkwood appears to be almost an extension of Bernard Cromwell’s Sharpe character (I am sure many of you have read some of the Sharpe novels, or at least seen some of the tele-movies starring Sean Bean as Sharpe). Hawkwood’s history appears to be almost identical to the Sharpe stories – previously he was a military man – a good ‘thinking’ officer, but he is ordered to do something stupid by a superior officer who is a buffoon that comes from a life of wealth and privilege. This causes conflict and Hawkwood is dishonourably discharged. If you can imagine if Sharpe became a Bow Street Runner, then you’ve got Hawkwood.

The story starts with the highway robbery and murder of a naval courier. Hawkwood is assigned to find out why, and retrieve the missing papers. As this is a historical novel, this leads him to all the extremes of this era. He gets to attend a Grand Ball, meet a gorgeous lady named Catherine de Varesne, and shag her. Unfortunately his encounter with de Varesne also gets him into a pistol duel with the son of a wealthy Lord.

The story also sends him into seedy dens packed with cut-throats. One of these cut-throats happens to be Nathaniel Jago, who previously was a soldier under Hawkwood’s command. Even though, now they are on opposite sides of the law they team up to sort out the puzzle.

Towards the end the story moves into ‘Tin Tin’ or ‘Biggles’ territory. Not that that is a bad thing. This is where the story picks up pace and becomes solid entertainment. Following the clues, Hawkwood and Jago discover a plot by the dastardly French to kill the Prince Of Wales. This involves a new invention (or secret weapon, if you prefer) called a submarine.

Earlier I mentioned that Ratcatcher was a ‘Goldfinger’ book. That’s because Hawkwood falls into more traps than he sets. Sure, it’s his intervention that stops the evil plan succeeding, but really he doesn’t do as much as I had hoped at the outset. I wanted a bit more swashbuckling. The pistol duel was a good sequence, but it needed more. But despite my little digs or grievances with the story, and the character, Ratcatcher was never meant to be a piece of high art. It is meant to be fun, and on that level it really succeeds. It is very enjoyable, and I for one, am looking forwards to Matthew Hawkwoods next adventure.

Ratcatcher is the first in a series of books featuring Matthew Hawkwood. The second, The Resurrectionists is available now, and Rapscallion should be available in June 2008.

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Peepshow

Leigh Redhead, Unwin & Allen (2004)

For this review, I am going to look at a bit of local fiction. When I was younger (so much younger than today), I used to live in Richmond, which is a inner-city suburb of Melbourne. Richmond is also the home of the M.C.G. or Melbourne Cricket Ground, if you prefer. The M.C.G. is a massive sporting arena, which holds approximately ninety thousand people, and plays host to the cricket, AFL (our national game), Soccer, Rugby and the odd Rock Concert. Across the road from the M.C.G. is The Royal Hotel. ‘The Royal’ is a grubby little hotel that regularly has topless bar-maids and strippers. After all, is there anything more appealing to a drunken male sports fan after a game, than naked women dancing and serving drinks? Me thinks not. As I lived so close to The Royal, I may have accidentally dropped by there on a few occasions. On these very, very rare occasions I may have accidentally watched the odd strip show. Don’t hold it against me. I am only human.

That brings me to Peepshow by Leigh Rehead. Before becoming a novelist, Redhead worked on a prawn trawler, worked as a masseuse, a waitress and as a stripper. Drawing on her past, Redhead has invented a character called Simone Kirsch, who is a full time stripper and a part time Private Eye. Kirsch’s stomping ground happens to be Melbourne, and naturally she puts in a performance at The Royal. I must admit, I find it somewhat strange reading about places and environments I know, but as fiction. Particularly in such a seedy milieu, such as detective fiction. It makes me feel naïve about what was going on around me, because I didn’t see it. I know I am blurring the line between fact and fiction, but when your home town is displayed it is easier to get suckered in to the author’s universe. I wonder if in years gone by, if Hollywood based readers of Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe novels felt the same way? Also Redhead’s use of surroundings that are familiar to me, like the Duke Of Windsor Hotel in Prahran (another old haunt) make it hard for me to be truly objective when reviewing this book. Many of my reactions to certain scenes are based on my own personal experiences, rather than what’s on the printed page.

Having mentioned Chandler, it is worth continuing the comparison. The book is written in the Chandler style, but far from that high standard. Describing the plot in a labyrinthine story like this, is all but pointless, but all the usual suspects are here, from crooked cops, sleazy club owners and an assortment of underworld figures. But the book is pretty clunky at times, and does drag out the resolution a bit too much.

At the end of the day, I really enjoyed this book, but I guess, I am it’s audience. Those unfamiliar may not enjoy the chuckle (if I remember a venue fondly), or cringe (for not so pleasant memories) factor that I do. Outsiders may look at the story on it’s merits. And on that level, it may disappoint.

Peepshow was successful enough that a couple of follow up novels featuring Simone Kirsch was written. The first was called Rubdown. I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, but as you’d expect, I have thumbed through it. At a quick glance, it would appear that the venues mentioned are no longer real venues, but fictitious pubs and clubs. If that’s the case it is a shame, but not surprising that the ‘owners’ of certain establishments should or would feel a bit edgy that their venue is being displayed in a unflattering light.

The new book is called Cherry Pie. I haven’t seen it in the shops yet, but there is some information on her website: Cherry Pie.

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Friday, February 08, 2008

You'll Never Take Me Alive

The Life And Death Of Bushranger Ben Hall (2005)
Author: Nick Bleszynski

'I might as well have the game as the blame'.

As a bright eyed youngster, all of nine years old, I remember at school, every Thursday afternoon we'd listen to the ABC radio's musical school program. Every week they'd teach kids from all over the country a new song. Most of the song's were sugary confections. One that sticks in my head to this day is The Streets Of Forbes. Maybe it was the violence in the song, or purely the mystique of a Bushranger, but since then I have had a fascination with Ben Hall (and all Bushrangers really).

So I was pretty happy when I came across 'You'll Never Take Me Alive' by Nick Bleszynski. And I have to say it is one of the best books I have read recently. It is fact based fictionalised account (I think they call that 'faction' these days) of the life of legendary Bushranger Ben Hall. Who was Ben Hall? He was a notorious bushranger, who operated in North West - New South Wales from 1862 to 1865. He was responsible for one of the biggest robberies of the time, the Eurowra gold escort, collected him (and his gang) a tidy $14,000 in gold. As with all Bushrangers, his reign of terror was brought to an end with a shootout with police. He was found riddled with 36 bullets in his body. These days, Hall is overshadowed by the legend of Ned Kelly, but his story is well worth telling and equally compelling. The book is a rollicking read from it's poetic opening till the historical notes at the back.

One of my favourite passages from the book takes place after Hall has become an outlaw, and the troopers are trying to track him down and bring him to justice. One after another, the troopers continually arrest innocent men, believing that they are Hall. Then it occurs to Hall, that the troopers don't really know what he looks like. So he gets on his horse and rides into the township of Forbes. He goes to the local gentlemen's outfitter, and at gunpoint acquires the best suit that they have. Now dressed to the nines, he makes his way to the local photographer. Once again at gunpoint, he has the photographer take a portrait shot. Hall then arranges for prints to be sent to all the police stations and posts in the area.

Hall was pretty brash and arrogant, but was he an outlaw? Well, yes. But with all stories like this, there are circumstances that drove him to a life of crime. I couldn't put this book down. Highly recommended.

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Portrait Of A Killer: Jack The Ripper – Case Closed

By Patricia Cornwell, Little Brown Books (2002)

Here's a quick one. Those of you who have read quite a few of my film reviews will know that I am pretty squeamish. I am not a big fan of serial killer or ‘stalk and slash’ films. I know a lot of people love this kind of stuff because they enjoyed being scared. I, on the other hand tend to watch films as an escape. There are enough examples of the nastier side of human nature in the world without having it served up to me as entertainment. Therefore, it would seem strange that I should pick up a copy of Patricia Cornwell’s Portrait Of A Killer. This book is not fiction like her series of Kay Scarpetta novels (not that I have read any). This is an investigation into the crimes of Jack The Ripper.

Cornwell uses modern forensic techniques, such as examining the DNA from letters sent by 'Jack' to Sctotland Yard, to ascertain the identity of ‘The Ripper’. Her belief is that artist Walter Sickert was The Ripper, and I must admit that she presents a very convincing argument. I found the book completely engrossing, from the first page to the last. At the same time, I also found the graphic descriptions of The Ripper’s crimes quite unsettling, particularly when Cornwell alludes to a theory that the Ripper’s reign of terror didn’t end with the seven women in Whitechapel. The book insinuates that he went on to murdering children. But in a book of this kind, it is silly for me to complain. Of course it’s shocking and unsettling – he wasn’t called ‘Jack The Ripper’ for nothing.

If you’re interested in the Jack The Ripper case, then this book is essential reading. But whether Patricia Cornwell has closed the book on the 120 year old question, ‘who was jack The Ripper?’, well that’s open for debate?

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