by Ian Fleming
People in my generation grew up knowing who James Bond is. He was part of the cultural fabric in the United States despite being a very British character. So when I picked up Casino Royale, the first of Fleming's Bond series, I thought I knew what to expect.
I was expecting the calm sophisticated smooth operator of the movies. Someone dashing and in charge. I was expecting the James Bond of the movies. Fleming's Bond, as written, does superficially resemble the movie Bond: physically attractive, calm under stress, drinks gin cocktails. However, there's a misogynistic streak in the books that I wasn't expecting.
The movies were never what I'd call pro-woman being as they were full of overly endowed pin-up girls fawning over Bond. Not exactly strong feminine role-models, but the movies are silly and it's largely harmless. Casino Royale actually strays into genuine woman hating which isn't something I expected. There is even profligate mention of women as "bitches."
Every way that Bond is broken is the fault of a woman, and that is the story of Casino Royale. This book is the set up for the entire series. It explains Bond's drive and his focus. It gives him a reason to do what he does. While it makes Bond a more three dimensional character, it also makes him much less likable.
While I'll probably get around to reading the rest of the series, this is a case where I think the movies are better.
On a masochistic streak are we????? :D
ReplyDelete