A review by lokster71
Live and Let Die by Ian Fleming
2.0
Spoilers. Sort of.
So, this is an ugly book. Mostly.
It's racist, although how much of that is the character's and how much of that is the author's personal feelings I can't be sure. Chapter 5 in particular, from its title onwards, needs to take a long hard look at itself. Yes, it is of its time. After all, it was written in 1954, but that isn't an excuse.
It's less fun than the film version. The violence is more matter-of-fact brutal. If you've seen the films before you've read the books this one, in particular, would be odd. As two scenes from this book end up in different Bond films. One in Thunderball and the other in Licence To Kill. But, as I've said elsewhere, the Bond in the books isn't the Bond of the films. He's a thug. An intelligent thug, but a thug.
There's the usual Fleming food porn, although only twice does it feel like he's really trying to excite his post-rationing readers in Britain. There's a Bond girl, but no sex. The chapters in Jamaica are the best as you can feel that Fleming knows what he's talking about here but the scenes in Harlem feel less 'realistic'.
The Cold War pops its head up in the book, as Mr Big isn't just a criminal. He's a Russian agent. That isn't a spoiler by the way. It gets revealed in the first couple of chapters.
And you wonder how much Fleming actually likes James Bond. He gives his bollocks a good going over in Casino Royale, then gets him beaten up, chomped by a Barracuda and almost blown up in this one for good measure. It's almost as if Fleming is taken something out on Bond.
So, this is an ugly book. Mostly.
It's racist, although how much of that is the character's and how much of that is the author's personal feelings I can't be sure. Chapter 5 in particular, from its title onwards, needs to take a long hard look at itself. Yes, it is of its time. After all, it was written in 1954, but that isn't an excuse.
It's less fun than the film version. The violence is more matter-of-fact brutal. If you've seen the films before you've read the books this one, in particular, would be odd. As two scenes from this book end up in different Bond films. One in Thunderball and the other in Licence To Kill. But, as I've said elsewhere, the Bond in the books isn't the Bond of the films. He's a thug. An intelligent thug, but a thug.
There's the usual Fleming food porn, although only twice does it feel like he's really trying to excite his post-rationing readers in Britain. There's a Bond girl, but no sex. The chapters in Jamaica are the best as you can feel that Fleming knows what he's talking about here but the scenes in Harlem feel less 'realistic'.
The Cold War pops its head up in the book, as Mr Big isn't just a criminal. He's a Russian agent. That isn't a spoiler by the way. It gets revealed in the first couple of chapters.
And you wonder how much Fleming actually likes James Bond. He gives his bollocks a good going over in Casino Royale, then gets him beaten up, chomped by a Barracuda and almost blown up in this one for good measure. It's almost as if Fleming is taken something out on Bond.