This is the final novel of the classic James Bond series (only a collection of short stories would eventually follow), and it was published after Ian Fleming’s death. There’s some question as to whether or not the novel was completed by Fleming, or if an early draft was completed by another writer or published “as is”. Whatever the case might be, the novel feels like an unnecessary extension to what was, for all intent purposes, a completed story arc.
The Blofeld Trilogy was the crowning achievement of the Bond novels, covering a period in Bond’s life when he was at a psychological low point. It brought his journey from the cold-hearted man of “Casino Royale” to the jaded and exhausted agent of “You Only Live Twice” to a conclusion. I would think that the author was ready to leave the character behind as well, given the tone of the previous book. That’s one thing that makes “The Man with the Golden Gun” such a miscue; there is no need to take the character into another meditation on death when he’s already been there, except to let him go out on a more positive note.
The writing itself is uninspired and often scattered, with the thin story barely supporting the mere 200 pages. It’s a very quick read, but that’s not a good thing. Elements that should have been considered more carefully are tossed together, and it’s hard to imagine that any capable Bond villain would be stupid enough to fall for some of Bond’s attempts at a false identity. The whole story feels like an unrefined concept, and given the questionable circumstances of its origins, perhaps it is one that should have been left to the archives.
Rating: 4/10
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