film    print    sound    leisure    forum
company line »

shopping guide »

contact us »

get reviewed »

get published »

expand yourself »


find it »

Teleport City search allows you to search our entire site as well as our favorite sites about cult films, obscure music, literature, and swank living.



Monday, July 14, 2008

Midsummer Night's Doom

By Raymond Benson
Appeared in American Playboy Magazine - January 1999

Midsummer Night's Doom is a short James Bond adventure written to coincide with Playboy Magazine's 45th anniversary. It is the second short story that Bond continuation author, Raymond Benson wrote that appeared in Playboy, the first being Blast From The Past which ran in 1997. And it goes without saying - I only read Playboy for the articles!

The story opens with a briefing in M's office. As the story is fairly recent, M is Barbara Mawdsley - for those familiar with the films, but not of any of Benson's continuation novels, Mawdsley is the character portrayed by Judi Dench. She asks 007 how much he knows about Playboy Magazine and Hugh Hefner. Bond reveals that he once bumped into Hefner whilst on a fishing trip in Jamaica.

Then M explains:
"It's the bloody leak in the Ministry Of Defense again," she said. "There is a river of information flowing out of there, and it's apparently changing hands at parties being held at the Playboy Mansion West, Hugh Hefner's home in Los Angeles."

'Hef' is not the bad guy. His legendary parties are simply being used for the exchange. The seller is a rockstar named Martin Tuttle, whose ex-wife worked for the Ministry of Defense. She'd smuggle out secrets and give them to Tuttle, who'd fly them back to the US and then pass them on to the Russian Mafia at the Playboy parties.

Unknown to Tuttle, his ex-wife has been picked up by the authorities, and she has revealed the whole scam. But it is up to 007 to follow Tuttle to the Playboy Mansion and find out who his contact is.

In this instance, Tuttle is carrying the microfilm plans for infrared focal plane arrays (a camera device that can imitate the human eye and then process the data it receieves).

The Playboy party is a theme night - the annual Midsummer Night's Dream party. The guests are expected to attend wearing their pajamas, nightshirts or (of course) exotic lingerie. Bond arrives at the party in his pajamas covered by an Oriental silk house coat. Soon after he meets 'Hef' who acts as 'Q', handing Bond a gold pen which acts as a radio transceiver, and the accompanying earpiece.

Also attending the party is Tony Curtis (from The Persuaders), Robert Culp (from I, Spy), and Jim Brown. There is also a borish Russian film-maker called Anton Redenius.

The story is an interesting diversion, but some of the passages are cringe worthy. Sure Bond is somewhat of a hedonist and is in a familiar environment when surrounded by beautiful women and dining on fine food. But I don't see Bond as a disco dancer (even if it is with Miss October 1994).

Also I don't like Bond entering or mixing with the entertainment industry. It also bothered me in Benson's 2001 novel Never Dream Of Dying. I always see Bond mixing with (and battling) men with old world power and money. The entertainment industry, by it's very nature is all smoke and mirrors, and ultimately fickle. One minute you're up - next you're down. So I don't see characters from the film or music industries as having any gravitas.

I realise my point of view is without foundation in the real world. Anyone with large amounts of money has power, and as such can be a worthy adversary for James Bond. But in the Bond universe, I feel we need villains who are worthy of Bond's snobery.

Having said all that, Midsummer Night's Doom is a light Bondian confection written purposely to coincide and compliment Playboy Magazine's 45th anniversary. The story is not exactly a throwaway piece, but certain liberties have been taken to bring the Playboy universe and the Bond universe together. It's not exactly a snug fit. While some elements click, others do not.

I wouldn't consider this story core bond material, so unless you're a hardened Bond enthusiast (and I suspect there's quite a few of you out there), I wouldn't go hunting high and low for a copy of Playboy - January 1999.

Labels: ,

posted by David at | 0 Comments


Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Last Flight to Moscow

This seemed like the perfect book to start and finish while waiting in an airport, so that's exactly what i did, in between shopping for duty-free scotch whisky and checking the gate assignment board at Heathrow that never seems to be updated until twenty minutes before your flight, and then it changes like ten times. I always expect better of you, Britain. I expect that sort of nonsense from O'Hare, even JFK from time to time. Anyway...

As far as Nick Carter adventures go, this is one of the dumber ones. The entire assignment seems like it could have been wrapped up in about fifteen minutes and as many pages, but that wouldn't have been much of a book, so instead, everything is drawn out to near excruciating length. It seems to go around and around in a circle, with people doing stupid things simply because the author needs to fill out some additional pages. So it turns out that plans for the U.S.' Star Wars system have been stolen by a turncoat and sold to the Russians. If the Russian spy who has them makes it back to Moscow, then obviously they will use their knowledge of our new defense system to negate it and launch a massive nuclear strike against America. It is up to Nick Carter, obviously, to make sure the spy never make sit to Moscow.

The first problem, of course, is one of the book simply dating itself. Most of the Carter adventures are more or less timeless. Sure, they refer to current events of the day, but there's never really anything too absurd (the absurdity being reserved for the action itself). But pinning the fate of the entire world on Russia not finding out about the Star Wars program is sort of like an old sci-fi film that gloriously announces that it is set in the far-off, futuristic year of 1967, when we all have jet packs and homes on Mars. Had this book simply said, "They have the plans for our entire anti-nuclear defense system," things would have been fine. But specifically naming the pipe dream that was Star Wars makes the threat, in retrospect, rather difficult to take seriously -- and that's quite a feat in a series that features, among other things, a mad Chinese warlord with an dildo-based orgasm torture machine that makes you orgasm so much that you actually go insane.

But really, that's only the start of the trouble. Nick and his Russian opposite -- usually flanked by a KGB goon squad -- engage in all sorts of spyjinks at the Amsterdam airport when the flight to Moscow is delayed. This includes a number of violent shoot-outs that leave corpses all over the place, yet Nick casually walks away every time without ever being identified or stopped. Look, I know security then wasn't what it is now...actually, it probably was -- that being ineffectual and concentrating on inconveniencing us to make us feel safer without actually making us any safer. But even before 9/11 and the TSA and the liquids ban, there had to be some sort of security, even in a place like Holland, where everyone is a stoned prostitute in wooden clogs.

With the flight delayed, Nick goes off to bed some chick he knows, and the Russians just sort of drive around in circles, going to strip clubs. While this is probably what I would do (not knowing a wanton woman in Holland, strip club is the next best alternative, provided they have a decent bartender), I expect a Russian spy with the secret to Russia's ultimate victory to do something a little more decisive. Eventually, they go back to the airport, and Nick sabotages the plane for another delay. So everyone leaves. Then they go back, and Nick sabotages it again. So they leave. This goes on for a while, and then, eventually, the Russian hatches a ridiculously complex plot to fool Nick Carter, which of course, simply winds up with Nick shooting him dead in the airport.

Thing is, it's not a bad novel. It's all kind of entertaining in that way even the worst Nick Carter novels are. It's just really repetitive. And what's worse, it knows how repetitive it is, as characters constantly remark on why the Russians keep trying to catch the same flight, even after they know Carter is on the job to stop them. "Yes, but changing our plan is exactly what he will expect us to do!" they say, even though he keeps waiting for them at the airport, so obviously he didn't expect them to change their plans. Ahh yes, the ol' "you know that I know that you know" conundrum.

After the sex and violence packed Berlin, this one was a letdown. It's the first of the Nick Carter books I've read that were written in the 1980s, and while there's the seed of a good adventure, it's never really brought to fruition. It needed more subplots, better motivation for the Commies not doing anything, better explanation for Nick playing endless cat and mouse games instead of just killing the guy, and given how important the books wants us to think the stolen plans are, a better reason why there isn't an army of agents trying to retrieve them. In fact, the one other AXE agent who shows up seems about a hundred times more competent than Carter. Maybe next time, Hawk should assign that guy the job and send Carter along as back-up. But then, without Nick making stupid decisions and screwing everything up every step of the way, we just wouldn't have much of a book, would we. Although, frankly, we don't have much of a book either way this time around.

Labels: ,

posted by Keith at | 1 Comments


Berlin

It's been far too long since I sat down with a sleazy Nick Carter adventure novel, but the time I spent waiting for my flight at the Edinburgh and London airports allowed me to finish Berlin and Last Flight to Moscow, as well as a Sam Durell novel (Assignment White Rajah). Berlin is pretty good -- yet another Nick Carter novel that would, if it was made into a movie, take longer to watch than it takes to read the book. I think this one took me about 70 minutes. So the story this time around finds Nick en route to meet a fellow secret agent. Unfortunately, Nick sees the boat on which that agent is riding explode, and in the ensuing chaos, only one survivor emerges. Lucky for Nick, it's a sexy, big breasted German chick who I assume looks a lot like Helga from the new American Gladiators. Despite the fact that she just survived an explosion that ripped everyone else to shreds, she's ready for sex with Nick in a matter of hours. And to no one's surprise who has read a Nick Carter novel, she also happens to be a freaky nympho. Oh, and her name is Helga as well.

Eventually, Nick gets around to picking up the mission left unfinished by the dead spy, and soon enough, he's up to his eyeballs in guys trying to kill him. Along the way, he commandeers the car of yet another sexy woman who will look at the fact that he steals her car, holds her at gunpoint, and then gets everything demolished by a train as a good reason to bed him. He also ends up trapped in East Germany after Helga is revealed to be an enemy agent who orchestrated the boat explosion (to no one's surprise but Nick's). The plot gets around to revealing that a German megalomaniac is involved in the usual: using Arab money to fund a new war against the Jews. Guys, give it up about the Jews. You're not going to exterminate them. Use your money for something better, like building a collection of ravenous hawks you use to hunt naked women and American super spies.

Plenty of good action this time around. It's all par for the course -- Nick has some car chases, some shoot outs, fucks an evil woman a few times, fucks a good girl a few times, gets captured, gets stripped naked, and then everything blows up at the end. Everything moves fast, and the whole thing is a prime example of Nick Carter at his ridiculous best.


Oh, Helga...!

Labels: ,

posted by Keith at | 0 Comments


Friday, June 20, 2008

The Quasimodo Gambit – Part 3

Don McGregor and Gary Caldwell
Dark Horse Comics 1995
Cover painting by Christopher Moeller

Here we are, about to launch into the final book in The Quasimodo Gambit saga. So far, Bond has been in numerous fist fights and guns battles. He has been knocked out once. Has had to escape from a burning cane field and a whole slither of snakes. Then he had his mouth forced open and leeches placed under his tongue, which burrowed into the soft fleshy membranes beneath. Sure, Bond has survived much more than this, but he is a little worse for wear as we move forward. As this is the last book in a series of three, this micro review may contain spoilers. Naturally I won’t reveal the ending, but as this is a Bond story, it’s not hard to connect the dots from the various scraps of information I give you. But if you are willing to proceed, then read on.

When we last left James Bond, he had been tortured by Maximillian ‘Quasimodo’ Steel in Georgia. So he is a little slow to get back to where the action is. In New York City however, Nebula Valentine and Felix Leiter are on the job and are following Reverend Elias Hazelwood. Little do they realise that they too have picked up a tail, in the hunchbacked form of Maximillian ‘Quasimodo’ Steel. Nebula and Felix are led into a trap where they are surrounded by Quasimodo and his men. Both are given a good beating and left battered and bleeding on the street. Nebula requires hospitalisation.

Bond finally makes in to New York from the Georgia Swamps and is dismayed at the damage that Quasimodo has done to the beautiful young Nebula Valentine. This attack only strengthens Bond’s resolve to bring down Hazelwood’s whole organisation and to settle his own personal vendetta with Quasimodo.

In Hazelwood’s mind New York stands for everything that has become godless in the world. He intends to send out a message denouncing the Satan’s existence in the modern world. To do this, he has chosen to destroy a skyscraper – 666 Fifth Avenue, near Rockefeller Centre. Hazelwood is convinced he is on the side of the angels and this attack is the first in his war against the devil.

Quasimodo and Ernest ‘Light Touch’ Force are Hazelwood’s foot soldiers who will carry out this daring deed. They were both mercenaries once and know how to handle and use high explosives. They go to work planting their explosives in the ceiling of the Hackensack Novelty Company which has its offices of the fifteenth floor of the Three Sixes Building.

Teamed with Felix Leiter, who has made a quick recovery after the beating me took earlier in the day, James Bond has one lead left – a girl named Gretchen Blair has been linked to Elias Hazelwood, and she works for the Hackensack Novelty Company. Putting the pieces together – threats to destroy the beast – large amount of high explosives – plans of a New York skyscraper – a known accomplice who works in a building designated ‘666’ – Bond surmises that Hazelwood and his cronies intend to blow up the Three Sixes Building. He gets Felix to pilot a chopper up to the building so he can check inside with night vision goggles. Inside he sees Quasimodo and other Disciples Of The Heavenly Way transferring the explosives into the ceiling. Not one to wait around, Bond swings from the chopper and crashes through the window surprising the perpetrators inside.

And that’s where I’ll leave the synopsis dear reader. Naturally Bond has his hands full taking on a skyscraper full of terrorists.

The notes at the back of the book reveals an interesting aspect about the production of The Quasimodo Gambit.
’...The Quasimodo Gambit was essentially written in late 1989 and early 1990, and that storyline was not inspired by the frightening bombing of the World trade Centre, nor the violent confrontation between law enforcement officials and members of an obscure religious sect in Waco, Texas.’

It makes sense that the story was written in late 1989. Thinking back to 1988, that was the year that Die Hard was released at the cinemas, with Bruce Willis singularly taking on a skyscraper full of terrorists at Christmas time. This final section of The Quasimodo Gambit is also set around Christmas time, with the giant Christmas trees in Rockefeller Centre providing a backdrop for some of the action. There are other similarities to Die Hard, the most obvious of which you can see on the front cover image at the top, is some scrounging around in elevator shafts.

All in all, The Quasimodo Gambit is a very enjoyable read. It has many flaws though, like silly character names, and a few small pacing issues – like Quasimodo makes it to New York to beat up on Felix and Nebula, long before Bond gets there, even though Bond has the aid of the US Coast Guard and all of Felix’s connections. And Felix’s rapid recovery after having his lights kicked out by Quasimodo is a bit far fetched – the guy is pretty amazing, even though he has been beaten up he can still hold a chopper steady with his steel claw (he lost his hand to sharks in Live And Let Die) while battling fierce wind drafts swirling up between the skyscrapers. Ah, but this is Bond! We’ve all seen and read more ridiculous actions scenes than that, so it’s easy to forgive.

In Part one of The Quasimodo Gambit, I suggested that James Bond is a perfect character for a series of comic book adventures – as long as they were done right. I've got to say, that Dark Horse got most of it right. I am still not convinced with Gary Caldwell’s illustration technique which I believe is a little too stiff – for Bond anyway. Bond should be fluid. He should move like a cat. But the story is certainly acceptable and I thought the torture scene was great. It must be difficult to come up with new beasties for Bond to contend with – cinematically we’ve had Spiders, Snakes, Piranhas, Sharks, Tigers, Scorpions and Rats. In books we’ve had centipedes, killer ants, eels, mosquitos and the list goes on. The Quasimodo Gambit’s creepy crawly sequence works.

Graphic Novels and comics aren’t for everyone, but if you’re interested in alternative Bond stories, then The Quasimodo Gambit is acceptable fair. If you can track down copies, they are worth the read.

Labels: ,

posted by David at | 0 Comments


Monday, June 16, 2008

The Quasimodo Gambit – Part 2

Don McGregor and Gary Caldwell
Dark Horse Comics 1995
Cover painting by Christopher Moeller

When we left The Quasimodo Gambit James Bond and fellow agent, Nebula Valentine had just had their asses kicked in Jamaica by a religious zealot, Reverend Elias Hazelwood, Ernest 'Light Touch' Force and Maximillian 'Quasimodo' Steel. At the end of the story they had made off with a semi-trailer full of weapons and C4 explosive.

Bond’s only lead is Elias Hazelwood, and his religious group, The Disciples Of The Heavenly Way. Bond decides to pay a visit to their Jamaican retreat. It is not so much a retreat, as a military compound. After scaling the walls and entering the compound, Bond discovers a shooting range, where The Disciples are being taught how to use semi-automatic weapons. Inside the building, Bond discovers a war room with a the plans to a New York building. He also finds the details of one of Hazelwood’s contacts. The man is Conan ‘The King’ Lash, and he is a ganga dealer.

While Bond’s snooping about, Quasimodo and Light Touch are meeting with Conan ‘The King’ Lash. He is preparing a shipment of bales of ganga to be smuggled into the United States. Quasimodo is arranging for bricks of C4 explosive to be hidden insides each of the bales. Quite simply, they are using ‘The King’ to smuggle their explosives into the United States at the same time as he moves his ganga.

Back at The Disciples Of The Heavenly Way’s compound, Bond is discovered and has to fight his way out. But Hazelwood’s men are not well trained (yet) and Bond escapes easily. Later he passes on the name Conan ‘The King’ Lash, to Nebula Valentine. She makes some enquiries and finds out where ‘The King’ has his ganga plantation. The Bond and Nebula decide to pay it a visit.

The plantation is hidden in the mountains and is quite a trek. Bond and Valentine decide to break up the trip with a sexual dalliance under a waterfall. Refreshed, they continue their journey to the plantation.

Upon arrival, Bond threatens to kill one of the guards unless he tells him about ‘The King’s’ next shipment. With a machete at his throat, the guard tells all. The delivery is to be made at a place called Twisted River in the Georgia Swamps. Bond then makes a call to his old friend Felix Leiter. Felix arranges for Bond to fly to the US, join a Coast Guard Patrol Ship. When the ganga delivery is about to be made, Bond and the Coast Guard intervene. ‘The King’ tosses his bales of ganga overboard and tries to make it out of the swamp and back out to sea and into international waters. As the Coast Guard purse ‘The King’, Bond dives overboard and begins to inspect one of the floating bales. Inside the ganga bale, he finds the block of C4 explosive.

Bond paddles to shore, only to be discovered by Light Touch. The two men get into a fight, but Quasimodo sneaks up on Bond and knocks him out. Bond is taken prisoner.

When Bond awakens he is bound to a tree. Quasimodo decides to do a spot of interrogation and find out who Bond works for. Naturally Bond refuses to talk, so Quasi turns to more unconventional methods of persuasion. He uses leeches. He puts a few on Bond’s face and allows them to burrow, looking for blood. But this is not the worst of it. Quasi, then has Light Touch force Bond’s mouth open so he can place two leeches under his tongue. Then he seals Bond’s mouth with adhesive tape. I must say, even though the illustrations are not too explicit (apart from the cover, of course), this torture scene really plays well in the theatre of the mind. It is a well put together and at times excruciating passage in the book. It’s what we all expect in a Bond story – a bloody good torture scene.

As with all Bond stories, Bond manages to escape and makes it out of this rather intense predicament (As before, I’m not going to tell you the whole story – I’ll save some surprises).

The Quasimodo Gambit – Part 2 doesn’t move the story forward a heck of a lot, but it does tick a few of the boxes we expect ticked in a Bond story. We get a sex scene and a torture scene. Can we ask more than that? I think not.

The story concludes in The Quasimodo Gambit – Part 3

Labels: ,

posted by David at | 0 Comments


Friday, June 13, 2008

The Quasimodo Gambit – Part 1

Don McGregor and Gary Caldwell
Dark Horse Comics 1995
Cover painting by Christopher Moeller

In some ways it is very difficult to review a comic book or a graphic novel as most of the story is told in pictures, and a good illustrator can pack quite a bit of information into just a few pages. Reverting the images to a text format for review purposes is quite tricky, stopping short of reviewing each panel, the way it is drawn, the colour schemes, and the mood it evokes. But to do that, I’d end up with a full length novel. So treat this as a simplified overview.

Just by their very nature, comic book stories are full of action and incident. Leaping about, firing guns, driving fast cars, and bedding beautiful women is perfect fodder for this medium. As you may well know, James Bond, Secret Agent 007, excells at these pastimes. Therefore Bond is a perfect character for a series of comic book adventures – as long as they’re done right, of course! The Quasimodo Gambit is a three part series from the mid nineties, courtesy of Dark Horse Comics.

The story opens in Jamaica and the Undertaker’s Wind is blowing in. A girl with night vision goggles is checking out a warehouse when she is noticed by a brutish thug who is patrolling the area. He is about to do away with her, when down from the rooftops drops James Bond – Secret Agent 007 for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Bond takes care of the guard, but the noise brings another two out of the woodwork. Bond tackles one, and the second has his nose broken when the girl whacks him in the face with her night vision goggles.

The girl’s name is Nebula Valentine (Oh, c’mon! What kind of name is that? It makes Lovey Kravzit and Justine Lovesit seem poetic.) Anyway, Miss Valentine is a liaison officer for Jamaica House and Bond’s contact on the mission. It seems that an international arms dealer named ‘Rifle’ has a pre-arranged meeting at the warehouse later in the evening. Now all Bond and Valentine have to do is wait for him to turn up.

This provides and opportunity for a flashback to Bond’s initial briefing in M’s office. Bond is given a dossier on Jefferson Rifle, AKA: Elvis Sinatra, and Morecock Evans. Stop, Stop! Dear reader I am not making this stuff up. These are the character names listed in the story. I mean ‘Elvis Sinatra’ – you’ve got to be shitting me. It’s a joke name and not a very good joke at that. And ‘Morecock’ - groan... Maybe I should set up a library of stupid names for future Bond characters. That way, when an author is struggling for a good name they can select from a colourful catalogue full of gems such as; Geoffrey Trousersnake or Chrysanthemum Cleavage. Or how about Astyn Martyn – which people will think is clever because it sounds like the car, but it isn’t. Actually, Astyn Martyn is a young teenage girl – the illegitimate daughter of Lady Rose McCartin Martyn and James Bond. As the girl (and the affair with Bond) are an embarrassment to Lady Rose, young Astyn is sent to an all-girl boarding school where she gets into all manner of scrapes and mischief – that bad Bond blood, y’know! One day, while walking on the beach, young Astyn finds...I’ve gone too far, haven’t I? Maybe it’s time to get back to The Quasimodo Gambit.

So we have a bad guy named Jefferson Rifle. Riffle has a pock marked face caused by infection of childhood chicken pox scratched open by dirty fingernails. Not because he has a pock marked head and dirty finger nails, but because he is a dirty arms dealer, M assigns Bond to ‘stop’ Rifle.

Back to the mission in Jamaica: Bond and Nebula Valentine don’t have to wait long. Jefferson Rifle arrives at the warehouse ready to make his deal. Watching from the shadows are three men. The first is Reverend Elias Hazelwood – he is an American Tele-Evangelist and is the head of a religious order called The Disciples Of The Heavenly Way. Next to Hazelwood is Ernest ‘Light Touch’ Force who is a mercenary. The third and most imposing member of the trio is the giant Maximillian ‘Quasimodo’ Steel. Steel is called Quasimodo because he has a swollen hump of muscle and flesh on his back. Quasimodo used to be a real bad-ass soldier, but through Hazelwood has found God. Now Quasimodo only kills and maims in God’s name. These three characters are the buyers that Rifle is waiting for, and they have come to buy a shit-load of weapons.

Once they feel they are safe, Hazelwood, Quasimodo and Light Touch come out to make their deal. Rifle has the weapons loaded in a semi-trailer and hands over the keys. As the Reverend is about to hand over the money, Bond and Valentine spring into action. Of course it isn’t a simple arrest, and it turns into an armed confrontation. Light Touch tries to draw a pistol on Bond, but Nebula shoots him in the shoulder. Light Touch drops to the ground. The Reverend who is a stranger to armed confrontation freezes, while Bond heads around to the back of the semi-trailer and confronts Quasimodo. Rifle makes his way to the cab of the truck and tries to take off with the load of weapons not realising Bond and Quasimodo are in the back. In the moving truck, Bond looses his advantage and the two men end up wrestling in a avalanche of falling gun crates. Rifle has trouble controlling the truck at speed and swerves into a wall. His head goes through the windscreen rendering him temporarily unconscious.

Meanwhile Hazelwood regains his composure and tries to scarper. Nebula chases after him and wrestles him to the ground. Although injured and bleeding, Light Touch is back on his feet now and pulls Rifle from the cab of the truck and takes over the controls. He drives off with Quasimodo and Bond still slugging it out on the back. Rifle, who is dazed and blinded by a sheet of blood down his face, walks into the path of the truck and is killed.

With Light Touch at the wheel, the truck snakes it’s way out of the danger area and into a sugar cane plantation. Light Touch pulls up and both Bond and Quasimodo fall from the back of the truck. Bond quickly seeks cover in the cane. Now armed, Quasimodo and Light Touch begin searching for Bond. It’s slow work, so Light Touch decides to speed things up by setting fire to the cane. He does this by lobbing in a grenade. The cane goes up in a wall of flame. A wall that is heading directly towards Bond. And to make it a little more terrifying, it’s isn’t just the flames that are a threat, but also all the snakes that are driven ahead of the flames.

Needless to say Bond makes it out of this predicament (I’m not going to tell you the whole story – I have to save some surprises). But even though his initial target, Rifle is now history, it seems far worse that now a religious fanatic and a psychotic hunch-back now have their hands on a whole shipment of weapons.

But how Bond deals with this new threat will be revealed in The Quasimodo Gambit – Part 2.

This Bond adventure is a bit of a slow starter, but once the wheels start to turn, it’s not too bad. And the sequence in the sugar cane is exceptionally good. Obviously, I have a bit of an issue with the poor character names in the story, but on the whole Don McGregor’s script isn’t bad at all, and it appears that he has at least done a little bit of homework, alluding to Fleming’s literary world on a few occasions. If I have a criticism of the writing – and this may be sheer co-incidence – is that the name Valentine was used in John Gardner’s Bond continuation novel Scorpius, which was released in 1988. Scorpius features a dodgy religious leader called Father Valentine, who is the leader of a sect called The Meek Ones. It’s been quite a few years since I have read Scorpius and my memory is at best hazy, but the similarities seem obvious.

As for the art, while obviously Calwell is a very talented illustrator, his artwork is very stiff and static. Each illustration is like a frozen snapshot. There is little feeling of movement in each frame, and even less movement linking one frame to the next. He has a great feeling for mood, but is less effective in action scenes, which I would have though would be imperative when bringing Bond to life in a comic book format.

All in all, this is a pretty good little if somewhat flawed adventure. I’ll try to post the next two instalments over the next few days.

Labels: ,

posted by David at | 0 Comments


Friday, April 04, 2008

Golgo 13: Supergun

Created by Takao Saito
English version published by Viz Media 2006

Just a quick one, but because I have looked at a few Golgo 13 movies in Shrimps Chips, I thought entirely appropriate at this time. Despite my recent Shrimps, I am hardly an expert on Manga films. In total, the animé feature films I have watched could be counted on one hand. And I hate to admit, my ignorance of Manga comics is even greater. But Golgo 13 is a character whose adventures I have enjoyed, and when I saw a copy of one of the Manga comics I had to pick it up. Now Golgo 13 has been carrying out ‘hits’ for over four decades, and as the cover of this book states that it was ‘created’ by Takao Saito, rather than ‘written’ by, I’d guess these adventures were put together by some new kids on the block. I say ‘these’ because there are two stories in the book, the first major story is The Gun At Am Shara and the second lesser one is called Hit And Run.

What surprised me about the book is that it doesn’t take place in a fictional universe, it happens in our world and uses real events as a backdrop. The major story, The Gun At Am Shara uses the aftermath of the Gulf War as it’s setting and Saddam Hussein as a villain. The President of the United States, although never named, looks a lot like Bill Clinton.

The Supergun is not a reference to Golgo 13’s marksmanship, or even the weapon he is carrying on the front cover. It refers to a gigantic cannon built by Saddam Hussein and hidden at a secret dam facility in Iraq. Once again I was very surprised by the story. From the films, I had an impression of the type of story I would get, but this is just a bloody good espionage story. The beginning could come from a movie like The Peacemaker or Patriot Games with high tech satellite imaging, and boffins interpreting the intel. In fact the first 50 pages of the book are filled with this – and while it is fascinating and laying down a nice platform for the story, it also means that we are 50 pages into the story before Golgo 13 makes an appearance.

Golgo’s mission? Well it’s not a hit – is to go into Iraq and destroy the cannon, but not the dam. In this story, Golgo is not a hitman, but employed by the American Government as a secret agent. It’s a bit of a character turn-around, and I don’t know if this is ‘updating’ the character for a modern audience - as we a living in a time of ‘terror’, or simply the ‘new kids’ who have written this tale, have not been particularly faithful to Saito’s original character.

I really enjoyed this book, but not as a Golgo 13 adventure. As you’d be aware by now, that I love my spy films and books, and on that level, this book really satisfies, but as a Golgo 13 story (from my limited experience) this appears to be very different.

Labels:

posted by David at | 4 Comments


Friday, March 21, 2008

Operation Snake

Tandem Books 1969

I hate to admit it, but I was a Nick Carter virgin. I had never read any of Carter's adventures, which is practically a criminal offence here at Teleport City. I figured I’d better quickly rectify the situation and ducked into the nearest second hand book shop. I only had two to chose from, and for an old paperback, at a fairly inflated price. They must be collectible around here?

The two choices were Operation Snake from the late 1960’s and Tunnel For Traitors published in 1986. Just by looking at the cover image, you can tell why I went for ‘Snake’ first.

This adventure starts with Nick Carter, Agent N3 for AXE travelling in an old DC3 to Khumbu in the heart of the Himalayas. During his flight he flashes back to his mission briefing with Hawk. In Nepal, a religious leader named Ghotak – the Head of the Teeoan People and Snake Society – is planning a coup which will see the Red Chinese taking over Nepal. The Nepalese people fear Ghotak because all who have opposed him have been slain by the Yeti. Yes, the Abominable Snowman. Carter’s contact in Katmandu is Leeunghi, who is an aid to the King.

Carter lands in Khumbu and meets his first contact. He is a fellow agent named Harry Angsley. Angsley is in hospital on his deathbed. He tells Carter that he must go to the Tesi Pass, where he will be met by a guide who will take him the rest of the way. Adding to the mix is a meddlesome English reporter named Hilary Cobb. She tries to tag along with Carter, but he refuses. In response she arranges for Carter’s equipment to be stolen. Carter realises she is behind the theft, and pretends to have changed his mind. She can come along after all. He will co-operate.

Cobb returns his equipment, but suddenly the fun and games are over. Carter strips her down, ties her to a chair, slaps her across the face and tweaks her nipple. Politically correct, Nick Carter aint! He tells her to go home, and leaves her tied up.

Carter then begins his trek through the mountains to the Tesi Pass. Here he is met by a guide who leads Carter further up into the mountains. As they rest, the guide attacks Carter, and tries to send him flying over an ice ledge. Carter gives as good as he gets and kills the impostor. He then marches back down to the pass and meets his real guide. Her name is Khaleen, the daughter of his contact Leeunghi. Naturally she is a looker. She leads him to Katmandu and into the world of Ghotak. Ghotak isn’t happy to have Carter in his world, and arranges for a trio of killer monks to take care of him. But, as you’ve guessed, Nick Carter knows how to take care of him self and gives the monks a lesson in the ways of unarmed combat.

Later that night there is a ritual being overseen by Ghotak. A ritual to honour the fertility of the Spirit of Karkotek, Lord Of All Serpents. It’s at this ritual that Carter and Leeunghi intend to expose Ghotak as a charlatan. Their plan doesn’t go as planned. The ritual is more of an orgy than a religious ceremony and Khaleen get’s drawn onto the stage, and starts to writhe around and disrobe. Nick goes to her rescue, while Leeunghi enters into a slanging match with Ghotak. As it is one man’s word against another the Nepalese need a sign or symbol to show who’s telling the truth. The end result being that Leeunghi has to go up into the mountains. If he speaks the truth, in three days he will return safely. If Ghotak speaks the truth, then the Yeti will slay Leeunghi. Now it’s up to Nick Carter to reveal the truth and save the day.

As my first introduction to Nick Carter, I was pretty impressed with Operation Snake. It was better written than I though it would be. It has some good, tight, descriptive passages. And as expected, it was fast paced, violent and with a healthy does of sex thrown in. I realise that the Nick Carter books are written by different authors, so the story telling quality can vary from one book to the next. I notice that this one is written in first person, where Tunnel For traitors is written in third person. I am fond of first person narratives, as you feel you are making the journey with the hero, rather than just having it reported back to you. So on this level, if your a Nick Carter fan, I would highly recommend this entry in the series.

Labels: ,

posted by David at | 1 Comments


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....

Labels: ,

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.

Labels: ,

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.

Labels: ,

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.

Labels: ,

posted by David at | 0 Comments


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.

Labels:

posted by David at | 0 Comments


Monday, May 07, 2007

On Her Majesty's Secret Service

By Ian Fleming. Copyright 2002 (Reprint), Penguin Publishing.

Buy it now from Amazon.com
After a worthwhile idea (exploring the effect on a normal person's life when they come into contact with James Bond) that turned into the savagely crummy The Spy Who Loved Me, Ian Fleming had a lot to make up for. The trick for the author was finding something unique to do with the long-lived character of James Bond while still fulfilling the basic expectations of the Bond formula. Unfortunately for Fleming, among many authors, musicians, and movie makers, when you strike upon a successful franchise, you either make more or less the same thing over or over -- variations upon a theme -- and have people talk about how your work has become stale and formulaic, or you make a radical change in the work and listen to people complain about how things changed and the author has turned his back on the essence of what made the series successful.

With Bond, and especially after a critical and fan misfire like The Spy Who Loved Me, Fleming had to find a way to return to the formula, fulfill all the basic expectations of the Bond checklist, but still make it different enough that people wouldn't criticize him of rehashing the same old ingredients and calling it something new. The result of Fleming's artistic struggle with his character is On Her Majesty's Secret Service, pegged by many as the apex of the series and one of the greatest adventure thrillers of all time. I'm not one to argue. On Her Majesty's Secret Service is a fabulous story, fully realizing the potential of Bond and the Bond universe in a way that Fleming had never quite achieved before, even in the best of the Bond stories before. Fleming manages to turn over-familiarity with the Bond formula into a way to hone it to perfection, and he throws just enough of a twist in to shock and enthrall readers without alienating them the way he had with the previous novel, which was placed too far outside the scope of the established Bond universe to ever feel like anything more than a poorly written lark. On Her Majesty's Secret Service operates well within the confines of the Bond universe, but it does so in a way that mines that universe for every ounce of unrealized potential, and Fleming populates the book with a strong cast of supporting characters while still managing to keep Bond at the center of attention (as opposed to books like From Russia With Love, where Bond is little more than a sightseer along for the ride while interesting supporting characters become the focus of the book).

On Her Majesty's Secret Service begins on a melancholy note, as we find Bond once again at the Casino Royale, somewhat haunted by memories of Vesper Lynd and the events that transformed him into the man we know as James Bond. When he stumbles upon a suicidal woman on the beach, it would seem that Bond's luck with women at this particular location has run out. He manages to prevent her death, but in so doing suddenly finds himself set upon by a gang of goons who shanghai Bond and the girl and take them to meet a big time Corsican gangster by the name of Draco -- who turns out to be the girl's father. Bond instantly takes to the man despite the criminal nature of Draco's business, most likely because Bond has never disliked a man with a warm, dry handshake. Draco has a proposition for Bond -- become the guardian of Tracy, Draco's troubled, out-of-control daughter. Bond suggests that maybe what she really needs is a therapist. Bond decides he could have worse times than hanging around with the gorgeous but crazy countess girlfriend of France's most powerful crime boss, but romantic development is short-circuited when Bond is called in to work a new case. Or rather, to work an old case. Blofeld, the shadowy mastermind of the nefarious plot to hold the world ransom in Thunderball, has resurfaced.

Or so the Secret Service thinks. A man that might be the same Blofeld has applied to a royal genealogical society to have his family tree, and thus his counthood, verified. Bond thinks it unlikely that a villain as crafty as Blofeld would make such a move, but it turns out the allure of prestige and respect can undo even the most careful of criminal masterminds. Disguised as a representative of the genealogical society, Bond travels to Blofeld's remote Swiss chalet, where he quickly discovers that Blofeld is up to yet another horrible plot, this one somehow involving a clinic full of hot young women and the agriculture of England.

Fleming strikes the perfect balance between action and romance this time around, and readers finally see the return of an admirable female lead that makes a good match for Bond. Although Fleming's series has boasted a few memorable, strongly realized female characters -- Gala Brandt and Tiffany Case, primarily -- there were certainly far more paper-thin female characters. Fleming seemed to be on the right path again with Domino in Thunderball, then derailed things completely with the horrible character of Vivienne Michel in The Spy Who Loved Me. Tracey is a return to fine female form, possessed of all the strength and fire of Tiffany and Gala, but with an added emotional depth that sets her above the rest. With much of the story hanging on Bond finally finding "The One," it was imperative that Fleming create a woman that would believable as such. He gets about 90% there, which is, I think, the best we can expect from a crusty old British guy.

Romantic interludes come in between a number of action passages, written with a breathless sense of wonder and excitement that we haven't seen from Fleming in a while. Maybe it's the crisp Alpine air that seems to make everything that much more exhilarating. Bond gets to have a ski chase (they would become a staple of the Bond movie franchise after the adaptation of this novel), car chases, bobsled chases, and gets to go ice skating, among other things, before joint leading a commando raid on Blofeld's compound with Draco. The action really crackles this time around, probably because it's buoyed by a strong emotional story simmering in the background and coming to a shocking boil on the final page of the novel. Fleming has never captured this degree of emotion in any of his stories, not even in the melancholy final moments of Casino Royale.

In some ways, this is Casino Royale redux, with the benefit of years of writing experience now under Fleming's belt. The Bond series maintained continuity fairly well throughout its run, but here we see something really come full circle in a way no one would have expected. Casino Royale is a young, brash, and emotional Bond who is emotionally gutted by the betrayal of a woman he was prepared to marry. In the next couple of books, we see what's left of that romantic idealist vanish. Bond muses on the idea of marrying Gala Brandt, but that doesn't work out. Ditto Tiffany Case. And by the middle of the series, Fleming doesn't even make an effort to explain the disappearance of the woman from the last book. Bond has become the hard-lovin' playboy. It's fitting that his "romantic rehabilitation' begins where it ended, at the Casino Royale. And once again, Bond has the emotional rug pulled out from under his feet, albeit in a very different fashion and with drastically different results.

A well-written Bond and Tracey are key components of the success of this novel, but it wouldn't have gone anywhere without an equally strong villain. Fleming had been floundering for a decent villain for a while, relying largely on a cast of increasingly outrageous comic book villains until he struck gold with Emilio Largo, a villain with a believable yet still larger-than-life personality that made him every bit the match for Bond. It's probably no accident that the book that introduces us to Largo also introduces us to Blofeld, the controller of a terrorist network known as SPECTRE. Blofeld was little more than a shady presence in Thunderball; it's in On Her Majesty's Secret Service that he comes into his own and becomes the defining villain of the entire Bond series. He's cunning, intelligent, cautious, just a bit mad, and has one fatal flaw (his vanity and the subsequent thirst for a royal title) that Bond is able to exploit -- buy only briefly, as Blofeld is never fully convinced that bond isn't an enemy agent. Blofeld's scheme this time around -- basically a version of biological warfare -- is fairly believable and well thought-out as far as these schemes go. Although Largo will remain my favorite villain, Blofeld emerges as a strong antagonist that pushes Bond first to the limit, then sends him free-falling right over the edge.

Well, Fleming had a lot to make up for, and On Her Majesty's Secret Service absolutely does the job and then some. After the dismal The Spy Who Loved Me, it would have been fair to write Fleming and Bond off as having dried up. No one could have expected that Fleming would bounce back with the best book in the series. On Her Majesty's Secret Service is a nearly perfect thriller. It is packed with intrigue, action, romance, and emotion, and does indeed manage to work within the Bond formula without being confined by it. Where as The Spy Who Loved Me might have you rolling your eyes and grunting, "Jesus, what next," On Her Majesty's Secret Service will have you gripping your seat and excitedly screaming, "Jesus! What next???" You get what I'm saying?

Labels: , ,

posted by Keith at | 7 Comments


Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Spy Who Loved Me

By Ian Fleming. Copyright 2002 (Reprint), Penguin Publishing.

Buy it now from Amazon.com
I hope whatever good will was generated for you (provided you liked the book as much as I did) by Thunderball is still fresh in your memory, because you're going to need to lean heavily upon it if you ever want to make it to the end of Fleming's next Bond novel, The Spy Who Loved Me. It's tempting to just skip this one entirely and move immediately on to the next book, so bad is The Spy Who Loved Me and so well documented is the near universal dislike for the book from fans, critics, and Ian Fleming himself. At this point, it seems like adding my opinion is just gratuitous piling on, because I'm not going to have all that much to say that's different from what has previously been written about this book. If I'd read the book and found it to be the "best of the series," then at least I'd have a more unique position which I could defend.

But I don't hold that position, and so I fall in line with everyone else who writes this off as, "the absolute worst in the Bond series," a title it holds without any competition. Not even "The Hildbrant Rarity" can touch The Spy Who Loved Me in terms of sheer awfulness. Cataloging the sundry things wrong with this book is a bit of a chore, if for no other reason than it means one must go back and revisit so many unpleasant literary memories. I'll do my best, but you can probably rest assured that for every negative comment I make about Fleming's infamous misfire, there's several more I have neglected to make.

The most obvious, of course is that Fleming chooses to write the book from the first-person viewpoint of a twenty-three year old woman. The Spy Who Loved Me was published in 1962. Fleming was, what? Fifty-five? Fifty-six? Give or take a year, but try to imagine a fifty-five year old British man -- who also happens to be Ian Fleming, with his own peculiar ideas regarding women -- trying to write in the voice of a twenty-three year old girl. It is pulled off about as successfully as you might imagine. Having her refer to recognizing the smell of cordite is just the tip of the iceberg -- how many proper British schoolgirls know what cordite is, let alone recognize the smell? I understand, as an artist and fellow writer, that Fleming must have been crawling the walls wanting to try something different. As a reader, I don't mind and even prefer another well-executed example of the tried and true Bond formula, but as a writer, Fleming must have been terribly bored with James Bond. So he wanted to take a different approach to the same material. Unfortunately, he chose one that was ridiculously outside the scope of his abilities.

The result is a train wreck of a book told from the viewpoint of Vivienne Michel, on the run from her past and seemingly stranded in upstate New York at a motel besieged by a couple rough looking thugs in the middle of a dark and stormy night. The character and even the situation is not without potential, but that's assuming much of the book deals with this scenario. Instead, we're treated to exceptionally lengthy and mind-numbingly boring flashbacks that explain how Viv ended up at the motel. And these flashbacks don't include a run-in with spies or anything. The closest she comes to a fugitive lifestyle is getting busted with her boyfriend fooling around in a movie theater. Her back story is a series of seemingly endless, poorly written, totally generic teen romance encounters, and the dark past that leads her to America and upstate New York ends up being nothing more than, "I got pregnant and had to take off."

Words fail me. I really don't know how to convey just how profoundly painful it is to read some eighty or so pages of Ian Fleming trying to write turgid teen romance from the viewpoint of a young woman. At some point, though, it stops being painful, and you just sort of feel sorry for Ian Fleming. He would have gotten better results if he'd just stolen the diary of an actual teenage girl and copied it verbatim. When the two goons show up to threaten Viv, it's as much a relief for us as it is a terror for her -- at least until Fleming gets going again, and you realize that he writes American toughs with all the aplomb he shows for writing twenty-something girls. Both the thugs -- Horror and Sluggsy -- were meant to be plucked straight from the pages of old American pulp stories, and while he gets it right to a degree, Fleming still can't help but end up with a couple American street hoods who sound British and come across about as tough as two members of Eric Von Zipper's motorcycle gang from those Frankie and Annette beach party movies.

Viv's torment at the hands of Horror and Sluggsy goes on for another twenty pages or so, and it's most the three of them sitting around in the motel lobby swapping dull barbs. From time to time, she'll throw something at them, but as this nonsense drags on, and as you notice that you are fast running out of pages in the book, you might start to wonder where the hell James Bond is. When he does show up, we can share a sigh of relief with Viv in hopes that the story will pick up somewhat now that our man Bond is in the picture. It does to some degree, but it's a case of drastically too little way too late, culminating in a gun battle as Sluggsy and Horror try to burn down the motel.

The question most people ask as they read this horrible misfire of a novel is, "What the hell was Ian Fleming thinking?" Well, apparently he was thinking that he would write a book that answered much of the criticism aimed at his previous books pertaining to the level of salaciousness and moral degeneracy they promoted on every page. So Fleming hatched the bright idea to write a book not about James Bond, but about a regular person who's life happens to intersect with James Bond's, so that the encounter may serve as a cautionary tale to romanticizing the type of man James Bond is (a point which is actually spelled in excruciating detail by one of the cops who shows up to survey the aftermath of James' night at the motel). The problems with Fleming's goal are plentiful. First, who cares about the moral watchdogs? Fleming had come this far with books full of gratuitous sex and violence? Why, all of a sudden, did he feel like he needed to demure to the critics who had been calling for his head since the first book? Second, Fleming's cautionary tales reeks with disingenuousness. At no point do you ever get the feeling that he believes in the least any of the warnings he purports to be issuing to the younger generation. He's like a pornographer who ends ninety minutes of debauchery and indulgence with a postscript saying, "But in the end they were all very unhappy and died of diseases, so don't be like them." There's not an honest sentiment in the whole book, and any way, the last person I need lessons in morality from is Ian Fleming.

Fleming's personal prose style struggles with the confines into which he tries to force it, and the end result is neither fish nor fowl, and instead ends up a half-assed version of Fleming's prose mixed with a half-assed attempt to write within the limitations of a shallow twenty-three year old female character. There are moments, such as the description of menacing trees during the storm, when Fleming becomes recognizable, but those are few and far between and hardly recompense enough for the rest of the drivel we must endure. I believe The Spy Who Loved Me also contains Fleming's most infamous idiotic claim -- that all women like to be semi-raped at some point in their life -- which sounds all the more idiotic coming from the lips of a young woman. That's Fleming, guardian of the public morality.

What's most frustrating about this book isn't just that it's bad, or even that it's boring (it is both of these things in great quantity, though); it's that, as with the short stories in For Your Eyes Only, there is a good idea lost amid the awful writing. The idea of examining the life of a normal person, someone to whom the readers could easily relate and whom they would easily recognize as being like them, and how that life is altered by a chance encounter with James Bond, is an intriguing one. But Fleming never delivers on that promise. Instead, we get 2/3 of a book that is tedious teen romance, and a final third that is James Bond dashing about in his jim-jams trying to shoot some guy. The professed goal of highlighting how Bond can alter a normal person's life remains almost totally unexplored -- we have no idea what becomes of Viv after that night, and she hardly seems convinced by the "lesson" she has learned. More than, "Dangerous men destroy lives," Fleming seems to be saying, "it's pretty cool."

I don't like being totally negative, though, and I really don't like saying you should give something a pass. Thing is, you could skip reading The Spy Who Loved Me and suffer nary a setback to further exploration of the Bond series. In fact, considering what a huge setback The Spy Who Loved Me itself is to the series, perhaps you would be best skipping it (Fleming recovers spectacularly in time for the next book). But if, like me, you are a completist, then you are g