Ian Fleming died in '64, his last works were published posthumously in '65 and '66 - both Bond novels. A little research and memory determines that Sebastian Faulks has set this "new" Bond novel in 1967. Apparently he didn't want to write it and turned down the offer several times; I'm so glad he finally agreed.
The thing is I'm only halfway through and it's thrilling both senses and memory. I must have just turned a teenager when family and friends all went to see this new film that everyone was talking about, Dr No. It was one of those seminal moments (read John Walsh's
"Are you talking to me?", thanks Nick). A couple of years later I remember receiving
"The Man with the Golden Gun" as a birthday present. It was a time when fiction might become reality, and very influential.
I have to wonder whether folks who didn't live through that time will get the accuracy of the references. Let me give you an example:
Bond is being driven through Paris by a woman he's barely met...
Scarlett swept on to the Champs-Élysées and sank her right foot. 'You have to take these chaps on', she said. 'These French drivers, I mean. Play them at their own game. There's no point in being a shrinking violet.'
'Why did you go for the Alpine, not the Tiger?' said BondAt this point I remembered back to our neighbour's wife who drove a white Alpine. I preferred the Tiger because it had more power. My old man reckoned that for her the Alpine was safer as she probably couldn't handle the racier model... I read on...
'My father found it for me. Second-hand. The Tiger's bigger, isn't it?'
'It has a V8 engine', said Bond, 'but the Sunbeam chassis can't really handle that much torque. Anyway, you don't need it. Not the way you drive.'Oh yes, just as I remember it. Anyway, so far so good... and a
