For a time James Bond became an obsession. Instead of labelling my school stationery with my own name, their owner was identified as being “J Bond”.
For creative writing assignments, I’d write about Bond-like characters. In the only story I remember, my hero was rescued from an accident and found himself as the “guest” of various Bond villains who had mistaken him for the OO agent. They put him through variations of scenes from the Fleming books, but each time with a different outcome to the one experienced by Bond.
I read some of the Fleming books again a few years later, with slightly less naiveté, but with no less attraction to the adventure. If anything they made me more aware of how mundane and predictable my own work life was, but by then I had more of an idea of the gap between reality and the escapism of Bond and I had a growing awareness that in the real world a promiscuous and violent “Bond lifestyle” comes with consequences.
It’s now been decades since I read a Bond book so my memories of them are quite vague, but when I read Carte Blanche by Jeffrey Deaver I noticed what seemed to be clear differences. The most obvious is that I’m now much older than Bond; in fact I find I’m around the age of his late parents and THAT was a disturbing thing to realise.
Another is his move into the higher tech world of computers, mobile phones and the omnipresence of CCTV; and how they all impact the world of investigation and surveillance.
There’s also a technique used by Deaver that I don’t recall from the original books. It’s something I call the false cliff-hanger. It brings to mind old movie serials (that were before my time) where the hero is shown dropping off a cliff, locked inside an out of control car, unable to open a jammed door. Then the following week, in the cliff-hanger reprise, it’s shown that he actually rolled free of the car just before it reached the cliff edge; even though it had previously been obvious there was no opportunity for such an escape.
With Carte Blanche there are several inescapable situations where Bond clearly has no way out – but then we are told of earlier preparations made for such a possible outcome, where his forethought pays off and he survives.
While that approach might provide a heightened moment of suspense, I couldn’t help feeling cheated. It’s like a who-dun-it where the identity of the guilty party is totally unexpected, but unlike the best of that genre, there are no cleverly hidden clues beforehand that, with hindsight, make the outcome seem obvious.
One thing that isn’t too different is the eccentricity associated with Bond villains. Their extreme actions and ambitions are mirrored by their extreme psychological aberrations and their imaginative methods of carrying out their crimes.
And there are several increasingly deviant and clever crimes in play, some of which are worthy of a place in a Bond story. However I found the “best” ones all seem to be incidental to the main event – a crime that may have been big in scope but was unimaginative and anti-climactic compared to what had come before.