Internet Review of Books - "Devil May Care"

My review of Devil May Care by Sebastian Faulks, writing as Ian Fleming as it appeared in the November 2008 issue of the Internet Review of Books.

Allow me to share with you my expectations when seeing a James Bond film. I time my trips to the theater, having carefully studied the optimal times when there are the fewest fellow film-goers. I buy a large popcorn, and a water (we must be healthy nowadays, after all), and take my seat. For a period of approximately two hours, I am entertained by explosions, car-chases, scintillating “Bond girls,” and gadgets. Upon leaving, I consider going into the nearest place where alcoholic libations are sold, and ordering a “martini; shaken, not stirred,” in my best Sean Connery accent. I am well aware of the anachronism there. My desire is to see a “super agent” who transcends the ordinary. I am a forensic television junkie, but sometimes I don’t want to hear that something is “implausible.” I want a world where people are able to have wrist mounted lasers capable of cutting through steel. My Bond movie ritual has been in place since I was able to see non-Disney films away from protective parents. I am a Bond veteran.

Sebastian Faulks, chosen by Ian Fleming’s estate to write an official James Bond installment on the 100th anniversary of Fleming’s birth, has written a Bond novel that I would not want to see as a part of my ritual. Gone is the Bond who is completely smooth with the ladies, never at a loss for retort or taunt, and so utterly sure of his actions that he is an inspiration. Instead, we see a Bond who is older, arguably wiser, and ultimately a bit more “realistic.” Despite his drastic departure from the “film Bond,” Faulks creates an entirely compelling novel, turning Bond for the first time in my experience into something other than a cardboard cutout, or a comic book superhero. James Bond, in the world Mr. Faulks has created, is just a man.

The story begins with a James Bond who is nothing like the roguish gentleman we have come to expect. His aging is not particularly graceful. Though Faulks does his best to cover the tracks, one cannot help but think that Bond is past his prime, regularly losing energy in some of the acrobatics that were his wont in generations past. Further, and most tellingly, his flirtations with his secretary, and one might argue common-law wife, Miss Moneypenny, are treated with the air of an old man flirting with a young waitress:

“You wait till I get back from Paris,” Bond said as he headed towards the lift. “Then I’ll give you cause for heavy breathing.”

“‘Deep breathing’ was the expression, James. There is a difference.” 

“Or if you insist on splitting hairs I shall have to resort to something firmer. A good spanking, perhaps. So you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” 

“Really, James, you’re all talk these days.” 

The lift doors closed before Bond could come up with a reply. As he sank through the floors of the building, he remembered Larissa’s puzzled face in the hotel doorway in Rome. All talk. Perhaps Moneypenny was right.

Fortunately for the reader, Bond is not actually all talk. There is still enough action in the book to keep the reader grounded in the reality of Fleming’s protagonist. The effect of weakening Bond as a character serves in turn to elevate the heroism of the plot. This is an “old wolf” struggling against a tide of youth, and still showing that he has the strength and tenacity to stay viable in that world.

No discussion of a Bond story can go very far without introducing the villain. The villain in this case is a rather insidious one known as Dr. Gorner. Gorner is a pharmaceutical mogul, both licit and illicit. His modus operandi is to addict his employees to various narcotics, thus creating willing slave labor. The ubiquitous malady that this villain suffers causes Gorner’s hand to appear exactly like that of a primate, or “monkey paw.” The astute reader will notice that this ailment alludes to the short story of the same name. To this reader, it seems like a hollow allusion, however, as there is no comparison or reference to the actual W.W. Jacobs text.

After bedding the female protagonist and saving the world, Faulks lets the story trail off into a looming “what next?” We are left with an unsettled feeling as to how long he can keep it up. One must wonder, certainly M must, how much longer James can hold the 007 title. The answer, Faulks hints at, is not as long as his fans might want.