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Casino Royale ist das erste Buch der James-Bond-Reihe vom britischen Autor Ian Fleming. Der Roman wurde veröffentlicht und spielt im Jahr This is a book that I first read many years ago and was one that I decided to read again, remembering just how much I loved the Bond books and, of course, to look​. James Bond: Casino Royale: video-cv.se: Fleming, Ian, Klüver, Anika, Pannen, Like all of Fleming's Bond books it is a page turner of exceptional quality. Available, Language: German. Book 1 of 14 in James Bond (Reihe in 14 Bänden​). Casino Royale book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Introducing James Bond: charming, sophisticated, handsome, chillin.

Casino Royal Book

Available, Language: German. Book 1 of 14 in James Bond (Reihe in 14 Bänden​). Casino Royale ist das erste Buch der James-Bond-Reihe vom britischen Autor Ian Fleming. Der Roman wurde veröffentlicht und spielt im Jahr Listen to Casino Royale Audiobook by Ian Fleming, narrated by Oliver Siebeck. audiobook. Casino Royale cover art. Sample Series: James Bond, Book 1.

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The true first edition, first Published stated on the copyright page and no mention of later printings. Now Ex Gf Free removable protective sleeve. View basket. More information about this seller Contact this seller 5. Geheimdienst-Krieg zwischen Briten und Sowjets am Baccara-Tisch Natürlich ist in der Buchvorlage das Setting der damaligen weltpolitischen Situation angepasst und so kämpft Bond nicht gegen einen zwielichtigen Börsenspekulanten, der für ein international agierendes Terrornetzwerk arbeitet, Online Slots Reviews gegen einen Red Devils Germany der Sowjets. Published by Twentieth Century Fox, Paris had spoken to London where Clements, the head of Bond's department, had spoken to M. He looked over towards Bordell Erfahrung. And luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared. It's cold-hearted, Sat 1 Games we realize he's got a job to do Casino Royale was inspired by certain incidents that took place during Fleming's wartime career at the Naval Intelligence Division NIDSpiele Kostenlos Ohne Anmeldung.De by events of which he was aware.

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I've enjoyed them all immensely in the context of the time period in which they take place. Bond fans may want to check out flemingsbond.

There are two versions of this book for kindle, a 63 page version and a page version. The 63 page version does not say that it is abridged.

It claims to be just "Casino Royale" by Ian Fleming. The 63 page version is also a bad scan job riddled with typos. This is a shortened, sanitized version of a classic spy novel.

Don't waste your money unless that is what you are looking for. John S. Top Contributor: Star Trek. Possible spoilers below- This kickstarter to the James Bond novels is written very well.

From the start, Fleming creates a bond no pun intended between the reader and the cold, calculating spy that is James Bond. The atmosphere of the novel is indeed tense, and the expressions on the characters' faces are easily imagined.

I was particularly impressed with the Le Chiffre character, who is written in a clear and convincing way.

Fleming describes his facial expressions and mannerisms in a way that you feel almost familiar with him, and it's somewhat terrifying.

There is a torture scene that is quite difficult to read, but its aftermath is what makes the novel. Despite all his coldness, James Bond's humanity is revealed in his romance with Vesper Lynd.

You can feel his happiness at possibly having found a soul mate, his frustration when the relationship sours, and most of all, his bitterness and deep hurt when Vesper denies both of them happiness by committing suicide and revealing herself to him in a suicide note.

In the end this is an enjoyable novel, though it feels a tad rushed, and is not really a "spy novel" per se.

Only about half the book contains the "meat"- the poker battle with Le Chiffre and the later confrontation that sees Bond brutally tortured.

The rest is more of a love story, but still provides valuable insight into the Bond character. The physical book is well put together, I might add.

I prefer the modernized look and design to the rather suggestive covers normally used on Bond novels in the past. See all reviews from the United States.

Top international reviews. This must be considered a significant book. In many ways, it does not matter if it is good or bad, as a piece of literature it is the point that marks the beginning of something that would become a pop culture phenomenon: James Bond This is a book that I first read many years ago and was one that I decided to read again, remembering just how much I loved the Bond books and, of course, to look at through more world-weary eyes.

It seemed to start a bit jerkily as though Fleming was coming to terms with his writing, but it smoothed as it went along. He is.

For me the book was an excellent read, and rather than looking at it through modern eyes with modern sensibilities I tried to look at it as it was written, a contemporary piece that has, by the passage of time, become a period piece.

It is a rather interesting look at another time, when the memories of war were that more immediate, where the men had been shaped by that conflict, when sexism was just part of the culture, a good decade off from really starting to change although the seeds are being sown.

The core of the story is a strong one though, something that can be attested to by the more recent movie of the same name. Cleverly the writers of that have kept the main beats and plot points in place, and updated them for a modern audience.

The novel deals with something that is in some ways simple, but as with most things, simple works best. An agent of a foreign power has squandered funds he should not have done and is trying to recoup that loss through card play.

It is a rollercoaster of a ride, with the baccarat part of the novel written well enough that you can follow how the game works, and causing tension to build nicely as the cards are played.

It is what happens after that steals the book though, with a damaged and somewhat cornered animal striking out, but even this does not deal with the increasing twists that just keep coming.

It is an old-world story, that catches the feel of its era. Everyone smokes heavily, there is a sense of style that is part of that bygone era.

Bond himself is not a particularly likeable character. He is brutal, a shark swimming through a sea of lesser beings.

It is only as the book progresses that we see him soften and almost become likeable. This could, of course, be a reaction to the torture he suffers, but all the same it is this humanising of his character that gave him the potential to become the cultural icon he has.

On a final note, there is perhaps a sense of justice, in for all his attitude towards women, that virtually all the men miss the fact that the best spy among them is not male.

Overall well worth a re-read. Thank you for your feedback. Sorry, we failed to record your vote. There are arguments for and against as to Fleming's ability as a writer and I would imagine the more positive critics will home in on James Bond's debut as being the best written of the lot.

The story is familiar and even if the excellent film needed to flesh out what is in effect a novella to make a compelling piece of cinema, this remains the most credible book in the series.

Having saved this novel until last amongst all the efforts I have read, it is fair to say that the more grounded approach of this book is more akin to the better short stories.

Had Fleming continued in this vein, I feel the later books would have been better for it. One of the worst aspects of Fleming's writing could be the clunky dialogue yet the conversation during the initial meeting with Vesper Lynd struck me as so good that it was hard to believe this was the same author whose villains were often obliged to speak in comic book cliches.

Here, Fleming remains taunt and credible and conjures up a story which is only matched by "TSWLM" for a low key story line.

It is quite intriguing to see how different Bond's first appearance on the page is from later books and the manner in which the plots grew from beating a Soviet-funded Union boss at cards through to less credible efforts to destabilise the world.

Even the setting of the Channel coast of France is markedly less glamorous that the more typical Caribbean destinations. Although "Goldfinger" is the book likely to match the expectations of a reader new to Ian Fleming, the better efforts are those of a shorter length where the writer's excesses are curtailed and the stories not quite so far fetched.

The Daniel Craig film was billed as a "re-boot" yet it mirrored the less sensational tone of Fleming's book which eschews nearly all of the elements you usually associate with James Bond.

In summary, the exoticism associated with the secret agent is almost entirely missing in this book and offers a hint at how different the stories could have been had the tone been maintained.

Amazingly, Fleming's creative powers took a nose dive two books later with the disappointing "Moonraker" and whilst the better efforts are a good, light read, Fleming never quite managed to replicate the quality of writing within the initial effort.

I hadn't read any Fleming before Casino Royale, so the chance to start at the beginning was too good to miss. I must say it is very much of it's period which is part of it's charm in places and very uncomfortable reading in others.

This Bond is no modern metrosexual and some of the ideas accepted as the norm back then are quite disturbing to a female reader in I thought it held up well as an action story and was impressed by how much it shared with the Daniel Craig film.

However I think it'll be a while before I read another Ian Fleming novel. I'm revisiting the Bond books, and I'm glad I have.

The first one is excellent. Fleming's narrative is rich and takes you right into James Bond's posh, slightly snobby, and definitely dated world.

The dialogue is a bit hackneyed, but hey, it's James Bond, so that's OK. Not too sure about his conversations with Vesper though, did anyone really talk like that?

Scary torture scene though, an excellent read. I've been late in getting around to reading Fleming's Bond novels The fact that Daniel Craig's first outing in 'Casino Royale' is my favourite Bond film possibly sharing the honours with 'From Russia With Love' , and the fact that it's the first novel in the collection, encouraged me to pick up 'Casino Royale' first.

All I can say is that this book is exceptionally and being of fan of Tolkien, I mean exceptionally well written and the story, the characters and the twist are utterly compelling and thoroughly worth growing attached to.

In hindsight, I was quite impressed by how much the modern film took from this truly vintage book. But I can say with all honesty that this book doesn't feel 'old'.

It doesn't feel dated or out-of-touch or from a bygone era. There is a truly timeless quality to it, and Ian Fleming deserves credit not just for Bond himself but for the truly superb quality of this story.

I have read a great many books in my time and plan on reading a great many more. I do not exaggerate when I say that this is quite possibly one of, if not THE, best Load more international reviews.

Trying to put the film version out of my mind was quite difficult, I found the novel by Ian Fleming too wrapped up in self-indulgent traits and convoluted intricacies of the casino world with both Baccarat, Roulette and the art of fine dining and wining.

I found this all dressed up a quite flimsy plot, and the character of James Bond being quite a bungling agent just managing to avoid being assassinated at every turn merely by luck rather than judgment.

Overall an average first Bond Novel Love this origin of James Bond and recommend it to those who like the films, as there is enough variations from film Bond to keep you interested.

The book is as pictured and in fine condition. Nice to have the old edition as I fear there maybe retcons to gruff and what was meant to be a troubled character.

I first read this book in the 60's because no proper film had been made from the title and you had to be 14 to go and see Bond films in those days.

I remembered much of the book up to the sado-masochistic section, but nothing afterwards, where there is less action and more emotions along with some sexual references.

Interestingly there is nothing particularly dated about the book; the cars are classics, today and much else sounds quite familiar except that there were less crowds of tourists and a thousand old francs to the pound, so the book seems fresh, even the sex which is not over-done but was much more poignant back then.

James Bond became an icon, probably through the films, the character of Sean Connery and Ian Fleming's lack of detail about the literary Bond, making him a kind of adventurous everyman, or what every man would lke to be.

Nevertheless, characterisation is shallow, dialogue is perfunctory although the sense of place and the description of the casino and the game of baccarat is good.

I seem to remember, from other Bond books that I have read, that he is prone to falling in love, but unlucky - this is the book where it all started and Bond, who at this time, has a reputation for being a cold-hearted killer, finally makes up his mind to become one.

The book is a page-turner and can be read quickly, while holding your interest, but it aint Hemmingway or any other literary heavyweight; a good holiday read or something for a long train journey.

One person found this helpful. You could hardly miss the 50th anniversary of in the cinema, but I suspect the upcoming 60th anniversary of where James Bond really started in will attract slightly less attention.

Casino Royale is almost 60 years old, but it's as fresh and exciting to read as it probably was back then. It gets the Bond series off to a terrific start, and has been very enjoyable to re-read as my part of re-visiting the original Bond novels.

What stands out more than anything is the freshness and directness of the writing. The story is told briskly, through efficient, stylish storytelling, and even though this was Fleming's debut novel, it reads well, and the trademark style is well-established right from the first book.

Bond is portrayed as a ruthless, cold instrument of government policy. There's little to like or admire about him as he goes about his business with calm, detached efficiency, and very often he is likened to a machine.

It's an exciting read, pacy, well-executed. Some of today's bloated, over-written techno-thrillers look poor by comparison.

The Kindle edition is fine - a good, clear read but with one or two foolish typos that more rigorous proof-reading would have spotted.

Casino Royale is a novel that is very much 'of its time', specifically the late 's, and must viewed from that perspective.

Criticising it for outdated cultural or social attitudes, or for simply being old fashioned would be the equivalent of criticising Dickens, Austen, the Brontes or Christie for the same supposed failing.

Yes, Ian Fleming demonstrates through his writing attitudes that would be unacceptable in contemporary society, especially when it comes to women, but right or wrong they were attitudes that were very much the norm when the book was written.

Casino Royale should instead be reviewed based on whether or not, at a fundamental level, it is a good novel.

Judged solely on this basis, even five decades after it was first published, it has to be said that it remains a first class thriller and a great introduction to Fleming's Bond as opposed to the cinematic version who is really a different character entirely, irrespective of who's playing him, invented to work on the screen not the printed page.

The prose style is spare, punchy and direct. The bursts of action are hard and brutal. Characters, though sparingly drawn, are none the less vivid and memorable.

It does take a while, if like me you have only encountered Bond via the cinema, to get used to this very different take on the man and his world.

It also requires effort to deal with the fact that the book is not only set in the fifties but was written then and therefore makes no allowances for the fact that the person reading it may not be familiar with the period.

The author of a contemporary novel set in the past include descriptive passages to help readers get to grip with the time period in question.

Fleming doesn't do this of course, which can be off putting to begin with. Once you get past all this however, what your left with is a very lean, hard boiled thriller that although old fashioned in some ways still works for a contemporary audience.

If you go in expecting the Bond of the silver screen you may well be disappointed. If you expect a novel written in a contemporary style with modern values then Casino Royale is not for you.

Department II: Operations, including execu- tions. Department IV: Investigations and legal work. Department V: Prosecutions: the section which passes final judgment on all victims.

During interrogation he committed suicide by swallowing a coat-button of com- pressed potassium cyanide. For details see Morgue: Section Q. He walked belligerently up to M.

I want to sell something to the Chief. Is this a good moment? He won a bit of a victory at the F. And tell him I'll wait here and read a good code-book while he's considering it.

He may want some more details, and anyway I want to see you two don't pester him with anything else until he's finished.

I'll be next door,' said Head of S. The Chief of Staff crossed his office and went through the double doors leading into M. In a moment he came out, and over the entrance a small blue light burned the warning that M.

Later, a triumphant Head of S. He said it was subversion and blackmail. He got pretty sharp about it. Anyway, he approves. Says the idea's crazy but worth trying if the Treasury will play, and he thinks they will.

He's going to tell them it's a better gamble than the money we're putting into de- serting Russian colonels who turn double after a few months' "asylum" here.

And he's longing to get at Le Chiffre, and anyway he's got the right man and wants to try him out on the job. He's tough, and M. He must be pretty good with the cards, or he wouldn't have sat in the Casino in Monte Carlo for two months before the war watching that Roumanian team work their stuff with the invisible ink and the dark glasses.

He and the Deuxieme bowled them out in the end, and turned in a million francs he had won at shemmy. Good money in those days.

Bond looked across the desk into the shrewd, clear eyes. But I can't promise -to win. The odds at baccarat are the best after "trente et quarante" — evens except for the tiny "cagnotte" — but I might get a bad run against me and get cleaned out.

Play's going to be pretty high— opening' 11 go up to half a million, I should think. That was his job — knowing the odds at everything, and knowing men, his own and the opposition's.

Bond wished he had kept quiet about his misgivings. Up to twenty-five million, the same as him. We'll start you on ten and send you another ten when you've had a look round.

You can make the extra five yourself. Have a talk to Q. The Paymaster will fix the funds. It's their territory, and as it is we shall be lucky if they don't kick up rough.

I'll try and persuade them to send Mathis. You seemed to get on well with him in Monte Carlo on that other Casino job. And I'm going to tell Washington because of the N.

Anything else? Try and bring it off. We're going to look pretty foolish if you don't. And watch out. This sounds an amusing job, but I don't think it's going to be.

Le Chiffre is a good man. Well, best of luck. Two heads are better than one and you'll need someone to run your communications.

I'll think it over. They'll get in touch i with you at Royale. You needn't worry. It'll be someone good.

He left the room hoping that the man they sent would be loyal to. He had arrived at Royale-les-Eaux in time for lunch- eon two days before.

There had been no attempt to con- tact him, and there had been no flicker of curiosity when he had signed the register 'James Bond, Port Maria, Jamaica.

If inquiries were made, he would quote Charles Dasilva of Caffery's, Kingston, as his attorney. Charles would make the story stick.

He made a high banco at chemin-de-fer whenever he heard one offered. If he lost, he would 'suivi' once and not chase it further if he lost the second time.

In this way he had made some three million francs and had given his nerves and card-sense a thorough workout.

He had got the geography of the Casino clear in his mind. Above all, he had been able to observe Le Chiffre at the tables and to note ruefully that he was a faultless and lucky gambler.

Bond liked to make a good breakfast. After a cold shower, he- sat at the writing-table in front of the window.

He looked out at the beautiful day and con- sumed half a pint of iced orange juice, three scrambled eggs and bacon, and a double portion of coffee without sugar.

He lit his first cigarette, a Balkan and Turkish mixture made for him by Morlands of Grosvenor Street, and watched the small waves lick the long seashore and the fishing fleet from Dieppe string out towards the June heat-haze followed by a paper-chase of herring- gulls.

He was lost in his thoughts when the telephone rang. It was the concierge announcing that a Director of Radio Stentor was waiting below with the wireless set he v had ordered from Paris.

Bond watched the door, hoping that it would be Mathis. When Mathis came in, a respectable businessman carrying a large square parcel by its leather handle, Bond smiled broadly and would have greeted him with warmth if Mathis had not frowned and held up his free hand after carefully closing the door.

There are no mountains for forty miles in any direction. Mathis paid no attention. He placed the set, which he had unwrapped, on the floor beside the unlit panel elec- tric fire below the mantelpiece.

They are touring Europe. Let us see what the reception is like. It should be a fair test. Bond noticed that he had turned the volume on to full and that the red light indicating the long waveband was illuminated, though the set was still silent.

Mathis fiddled at the back of the set. Suddenly an ap- palling roar of static filled the small room. Mathis gazed at the set for a few seconds with benevolence and then turned it off, and his voice was full of dismay.

After a few ad- justments the close harmony of the French came over the air, and Mathis walked up and clapped Bond very hard on the back and wrung his hand until Bond's fingers ached.

Bond smiled back at him. Up there,' he pointed at the ceiling, 'at this moment, either Monsieur Muntz or his alleged wife, allegedly bedridden with the grippe, is deafened, absolutely deafened, and I hope in agony.

Mathis sat down on the bed and ripped open a packet of Caporal with his thumbnail. Bond waited. He became serious.

They must have been on to you for several days before you arrived. The opposition is here in real strength. Above you is the Muntz family. He is German.

She is from somewhere in Central Europe, perhaps a Czech. This is an old- fashioned hotel. There are disused chimneys behind these electric fires.

Just here,' he pointed a few inches above the panel fire, 'is suspended a very powerful radio pick-up.

The wires run up the chimney to behind the Muntzes' electric fire where there is an amplifier. In their room is a wire recorder and a pair of earphones on which the Muntzes listen in turn.

That is why Madame Muntz has the grippe and takes all her meals in bed and why Monsieur Muntz has to be constantly at her side in- stead of enjoying the sunshine and the gambling of this delightful resort.

The rest we confirmed by unscrewing your elec- tric fire a few hours before you got here. Their grooves showed minute scratches. He walked over to the radio, which was still transmitting close harmony to its audience of three, and switched it off.

Are they not a wonderful team? Just what I was looking for to take back to Jamaica. Bond frowned at him. Could the Russians have broken one of our ciphers?

If so, he might just as well pack up and go home. He and his job would have been stripped naked. Mathis seemed to read his mind.

A pretty flap we caused, I can tell you. She is very beautiful Bond frowned , very beautiful in- deed. Back and front,' he added. All new machines, even French ones, are apt to have teething troubles in the first day or two.

And occasionally at night,' he added with an exaggerated wink. Bond was not amused. She speaks French like a native and knows her job backwards.

Her cover's perfect, and I have arranged for her to team up with you "quite smoothly. What is more natural than that you should pick up a pretty girl here?

It's about ten miles down the coast road. He had his two guards with him. They look pretty capable fellows. One of them has been seen visiting a little pension in the town where three mysterious and rather subhuman characters checked in two days ago.

They may be part of the team. Their papers are in or- der — stateless Czechs apparently — but one of our men says the language they talk in their room is Bulgarian.

We don't see many of those around. They're mostly used against the Turks and the Yugoslavs. They're stupid, but obedient.

The Russians use them for simple killings or as fall-guys for more complicated ones. Which is mine to be? Come to the bar of the Hermitage before lunch.

I'll fix the introduction. Ask her to dinner this evening. Then it will be natural for her to come into the Casino with you.

I'll be there too, but in the background. I've got one or two good chaps, and we'll keep an eye on you.

Oh, and there's an American called Leiter here, staying in the hotel. Felix Leiter. He's the C. London told me to tell you.

He looks okay. May come in useful. Mathis switched it off and they exchanged some phrases about the set and about how Bond should pay for it. Then with effusive farewells and a final wink Mathis bowed himself out.

He was completely blown and under really professional sur- veillance. An attempt might be made to put him away even before he had a chance to pit himself against Le Chiffre at the tables.

The Russians had no stupid prejudices about murder. And then there was this pest of a girl. He sighed. Women were for recreation. On a job, they got in the;; way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around.

One had to look out for them and take care of them. The Girl from Headquarters It was twelve o'clock when Bond left the Splen- dide, and the clock on the mairie was stumbling through its midday carillon.

There was a strong scent of pine and mimosa in the air, and the freshly watered gardens of the Casino opposite, interspersed with neat gravel par- terres and paths, lent the scene a pretty formalism more appropriate to ballet than to melodrama.

The sun shone, and there was a gaiety and sparkle in the air which seemed to promise well for the new era of fashion and prosperity for which the little seaside town, after many vicissitudes, was making its gallant bid.

Royale-les-Eaux, which lies near the mouth of the Somme before the flat coast-line soars up from the beaches of southern Picardy to the Brittany cliffs which run on to Le Havre, had experienced much the same fortunes as Trouville.

At the turn pf the century, when things were going badly for the little seaside town and when the fashion was to combine pleasure with a 'cure,' a natural spring in the hills behind Royale was discovered to contain enough diluted sulphur to have a beneficent effect on the liver.

Since all French people suffer from liver com- plaints, Royale quickly became Royale-les-Eaux, and Eau Royale, in a torpedo-shaped bottle, grafted itself demurely on to the tail of the mineral-water lists in hotels and restaurant cars.

It did not long withstand the powerful combines of Vichy and Perrier and Vittel. There came a series of lawsuits; a number "of people lost a lot of money, and very soon its sale was again entirely local.

Royale fell back on the takings from French and English families v during the summer, on its fishing-fleet in winter and on the crumbs which fell to its elegantly dilapidated Casino from the tables at Le Touquet.

But there was something splendid about the Negresco baroque of the Casino Royale, a strong whiff of Vic- torian elegance and luxury, and in Royale caught, the fancy of a syndicate in Paris which disposed of large funds belonging to a group of expatriate Vichyites.

Brighton had been revived since the war, and Nice. Nostalgia for more specious, golden times might be a source of revenue.

The Casino was repainted in its original white and gilt, and the rooms decorated in the palest grey with wine-red carpets and curtains.

Vast chandeliers were suspended from the ceilings. The gardens were spruced, and the fountains played again, and the two main hotels, the Splendide and the Hermitage, were prinked and furbished and restaffed.

Then the Mahomet Ali Syndicate was cajoled into starting a high game in the Casino and the Socie"te des Bains de Mer de Royale felt that now at last Le Touquet would have to yield up some of the treasure stolen over the years from its parent plage.

Against the background of this luminous and sparkling stage Bond stood in the sunshine and felt his mission to be incongruous and remote and his dark profession an affront to his fellow actors.

He shrugged away the momentary feeling of unease and walked round the back of his hotel and down the ramp to the garage.

Before his rendezvous at the Her- mitage he decided to take his car down the coast road and have a quick look at Le Chiffre's villa and then drive back by the inland road until it crossed the route nationale to Paris.

Bond's car was his only personal hobby. It was still serviced every year and, in London, a former Bentley mechanic, who worked in a garage near Bond's Chelsea flat, tended it with jealous care.

Bond drove it hard and well and with an almost sensual pleasure. It was a battleship-grey convertible coupe, which really did convert, and it was capable of touring at ninety with thirty miles an hour in reserve.

Bond eased the car out of the garage and up the ramp, and soon the loitering drumbeat of the two-inch exhaust was echoing down the tree-lined boulevard, through the crowded main street of the little town, and off through the sand dunes to the south.

An hour later, Bond walked into the Hermitage bar and chose a table near one of the broad windows. Everything was brass-studded leather and polished mahogany.

The cur- tains and carpets were in royal blue! The waiters wore striped waistcoats and green baize aprons. Bond or- dered an Americano and examined the sprinkling of overdressed customers, mostly from Paris he guessed, who sat talking with focus and vivacity, creating that theatrically clubbable atmosphere of Pheure de l'aperitif.

The men were drinking inexhaustible quarter-bottles of champagne, the women dry Martinis. Mais tu sais, un zeste de citron Bond's eye was caught by the tall figure of Mathis on the pavement outside, his face turned in animation to a dark haired girl in grey.

His arm was linked in hers, high Up above the elbow, and yet there was a lack of intimacy in their appearance, an ironical chill in the girl's profile, which made them seem two separate people rather than a couple.

Bond waited for them to come through the street-door into the bar, but for appearances' sake con- tinued to stare out of the window at the passers-by.

Bond, ap- propriately flustered, rose to his feet. Are you awaiting someone? May I present my colleague, Mademoiselle Lynd? My dear, this is the gentleman from Jamaica with whom I had the pleasure of doing business this morning.

Would you both care to join me? Mathis and Bond exchanged cheerful talk about the fine weather and the prospects of a revival in the for- x tunes of Royale-les-Eaux.

The girl sat silent. She ac- cepted pne of Bond's cigarettes, examined it, and then smoked it appreciatively and without affectation, drawing the smoke deeply into her lungs with, a little sigh and then exhaling it casually through her lips and nostrils.

Her movements were economical and precise with no trace of self-consciousness. Bond felt her presence strongly. While he and Mathis talked, he turned from time to time towards her, politely including her in the conversation, but adding up the impressions recorded by each glance.

Her hair was very black, and she wore it cut square and low on the nape of the neck, framing her face to below the clear and beautiful line of her jaw.

Although it was heavy and moved with the movements of her head, she did not constantly pat it back into place, but let it alone. Her eyes were wide apart and deep blue, and they gazed candidly back at Bond with a touch of ironical disinterest which, to his annoyance, he found he would like to shatter, roughly.

Her skin was lightly sun- tanned and bore no trace of makeup except on her mouth, which was wide and sensual. Her bare arms and hands had a quality of repose, and the general im- pression Of restraint in her appearance and movements was carried even to her fingernails, which were un- painted and cut short.

Round her neck she wore a plain gold chain of wide flat links, and on the fourth finger of the right hand a broad topaz ring.

Her medium-length dress was of grey soie sauvage with a square-cut bodice, lasciviously tight across her fine breasts.

She wore a three-inch, hand-stitched black belt. A hand-stitched black sabretache rested on 34 CASINO ROYALE the chair beside her, together with a wide cartwheel hat of gold straw, its crown encircled by a thin black velvet ribbon which tied at the back in a short bow.

Her shoes were square-toed of plain black leather. Bond was excited by her beauty and intrigued by her composure. The prospect of working with her stimulated him.

At the same time he felt a vague disquiet. On an impulse he touched wood. Mathis had noticed Bond's preoccupation. After a time he rose.

I must arrange my rendezvous for dinner tonight. Are you sure you won't mind being left to your own devices this evening? Perhaps I will bring you luck.

She seemed to acknowledge that they were a team and, as they discussed the time and place of their meeting, Bond realized that it would be quite easy after all to plan the details of his project with her.

He felt that after all she was interested and excited by her role and that she would work willingly with him. He had imagined many hurdles before establishing a rapport, but now he felt he could get straight down to professional details.

He was quite honest to himself about the hypocrisy of his attitude towards her. As a woman, he wanted to sleep with her, but only when the job had been done.

He explained that he was expected back at his hotel to have lunch with friends. When for a moment he held her hand in his he felt a warmth of affection and understanding pass between them that would have seemed impossible half an hour earlier.

The girl's eyes followed him out on to the boulevard. Mathis moved his chair close to hers and said softly: 'That is a very good friend of mine.

I am glad you have met each other. I can already feel the ice-floes on the two rivers breaking up. It will be a new experience for him.

And for you. He reminds me rather of Hoagy Carmichael, but there is something cold and ruthless in his Suddenly a few feet , away the entire plate-glass window shivered into con- fetti.

The blast of a terrific explosion, very near, hit them so that they were rocked back in their chairs. There was an instant of silence.

Some objects pattered down on to the pavement outside. Bottles slowly toppled off the shelves behind the bar.

Then there were screams and a stampede for the door. He kicked back his chair and hurtled through the empty window-frame on to the payment.

He was hungry. The day was still beautiful, but by now the sun was very hot and the plane-trees, spaced about twenty feet apart on the grass verge between the pavement and the broad tarmac, gave a cool shade.

There were few people abroad and the two men stand- ing quietly under a tree on the opposite side of the boulevard looked out of place. Bond noticed them when he was still a hundred yards away and when the same distance separated them from the ornamental 'porte-cochere' of the Splendide.

There was something rather disquieting about their appearance. They were both small, and they were dressed alike in dark and, Bond reflected, rather hot- looking suits.

They had the appearance of a variety turn waiting for a bus on the way to the theatre. Incongruously, each dark, squat little figure was illuminated by a touch of bright colour.

They were both carrying square camera-cases slung from the shoulder. And one case was bright red and the other case bright blue.

By the time Bond had taken in these details, he had come to within fifty yards of the two men. He was reflecting on the ranges of various types of weapon and the possibilities of cover when an extraordinary and terrible scene was enacted.

Red-man seemed to give a short nod to Blue-man. With a quick movement Blue-man unslung his blue camera case. Blue-man, and Bond could not see exactly as the trunk of a plane-tree beside him just then in- tervened to obscure his vision, bent forward and seemed , to fiddle with the case.

Then with a blinding flash of white light there was the ear-splitting crack of a mon- strous explosion and Bond, despite the protection of the tree-trunk, was slammed down to the pavement by a solid bolt of hot air which dented his cheeks and stomach as if they had been made of paper.

He lay, gazing up at the sun, while the air or so it seemed to him went on twanging with the explosion as if someone had hit the bass register of a piano with a sledge hammer.

From all sides came the sharp tinkle of falling glass. Above in the sky hung a mushroom of black smoke which rose and dissolved as he drunkenly watched it.

For fifty yards down the boulevard the trees were leafless and charred. Opposite, two of them had snapped off near the base and lay drunkenly across the road.

Between them there was a still smoking crater. Of the two men in straw hats, there remained ab- solutely nothing. But there were red traces on the road, and on the pavements and against the trunks of the trees, and there were glittering shreds high up in the branches.

Bond felt himself starting to vomit. It was Mathis who got to him first, and by that time Bond was standing with his arm round the tree which had saved his life.

Stupefied, but unharmed, he allowed Mathis to lead him off towards the Splendide from which guests and servants were pouring in chattering fright.

As the distant clang of bells heralded the arrival of ambulances and fire-engines, they managed to push through the throng and up the short stairs and along the corridor to Bond's room.

Mathis paused only to turn on the radio in front of the fireplace, then, while Bond stripped off his blood- flecked clothes, Mathis sprayed him with questions.

When it came to the description of the two men, Mathis tore the telephone off its hook beside Bond's bed. He is unhurt, and they are not to worry him.

I will explain to them in half an hour. They should tell the Press that it was apparently a vendetta between two Bulgarian communists and that one killed the other with a bomb.

They need say nothing of the third Bulgar who must have been hanging about somewhere, but they must get him at all costs.

He will certainly head for Paris. Roadblocks everywhere. Un- derstood? Alors, bonne chance. It must have been faulty.

They intended to throw it and then dodge behind their tree. But it all came out the other way round. Never mind. We will discover the facts.

And these people appear to be taking you seriously. And what was the significance of the red and the blue cases?

We must try and find some fragments of the red one. He was excited, and his eyes glit- tered. This was becoming a formidable and dramatic af- fair, in many aspects of which he was now involved per- sonally.

Certainly it was no longer just a case of holding Bond's coat while he had his private battle with Le Chiffre in the Casino.

Mathis jumped up. The door slammed, and silence set- tled on the room. Bond sat for a while by the window and enjoyed being alive. He suddenly thought: two of them are dead, and I have got one more on my side.

It's a start. He dipped the knife into the glass of very hot water which stood beside the pot of Strasbourg porcelain and reminded himself to tip the waiter doubly for this par- ticular meal.

He ordered a masseur for three o'clock. After the remains of his luncheon had been removed, he sat at his window gazing out to sea until there came a knock on the door as the masseur, a Swede, presented himself.

Silently he got to work on Bond from his feet to his neck, melting the tensions in his body and calming his still twanging nerves.

Even the long purpling bruises down Bond's left shoulder and side ceased to throb, and when the Swede had gone Bond fell into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke in the evening completely refreshed. After a cold shower, Bond walked over to the Casino. Since the night before he had lost the mood of the tables.

He needed to reestablish that focus which is half mathematical and half intuitive and which, with a slow pulse and a sanguine temperament, he knew to be the 41 42 CASINO ROYALE essential equipment of any gambler who was set on winning.

Bond had always been a gambler. He loved the dry riffle of the cards and the constant unemphatic drama of the quiet figures round the green tables.

He liked the solid, studied comfort of cardrooms and casinos, the well-padded arms of the chairs, the glass of champagne or whisky at the elbow, the quiet unhurried attention of good servants.

He was amused by the impartiality of the roulette ball and of the playing cards — and their eternal bias. He liked being an actor and a spectator and from his chair to take part in other men's dramas and decisions, until it came to his own turn to say that vital 'yes' or 'no,' generally on a fifty-fifty chance.

Above all, he liked it that everything was one's own fault. There was only oneself to praise or blame. Luck was a servant and not a master.

Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or taken advantage of up to the hilt. But it had to be understood and recognized for what it was and not confused with a faulty appreciation of the odds, , for, at gambling, the deadly sin is to mistake bad play for bad luck.

And luck in all its moods had to be loved and not feared. Bond saw luck as a woman, to be softly wooed or brutally ravaged, never pandered to or pur- sued.

But he was honest enough to, admit that he had never yet been made to suffer by cards or by women. One day, and he accepted the fact, he would be brought to his knees by love or by luck.

When that happened he knew that he too would be branded with the deadly question-mark he recognized so often in others, the promise to -pay before you have lost: the acceptance of fallibility.

Table Number 1. Bond borrowed the chef's card and studied the run of the ball since the session had started at three o'clock that afternoon. He always did this although he knew that- each turn of the wheel, each fall of the ball into a numbered slot, had absolutely no connexion with its predecessor.

He accepted that the game begins afresh each time the croupier picks up the ivory ball with his right hand, gives one of the four spokes of the wheel a controlled twist clockwise with the same hand and, with a third motion, also with the right hand, flicks the ball round the outer rim of the wheel anticlockwise, against its spin.

It was obvious that all this ritual and all the mechanical minutiae of the wheel, of the numbered slots and the cylinder, had been devised and perfected over the years so that neither the skill of the croupier nor any bias in the wheel could affect the fall of the ball.

And yet it is a convention among roulette players, and Bond rigidly adhered to it, to take careful note of the past history of each session and to be guided by any pe- culiarities in the run of the wheel.

To note, for instance, and consider significant, sequences of more than two on a single number or of more than four at the other chances down to evens.

Bond didn't defend the practice. He simply main- tained that the more effort and ingenuity you put into gambling, the more you took out.

On the record of that particular table, after about three hours' play, Bond could see little of interest except that the last dozen had been out of favour, It was his practice to play always with the wheel, and only to turn against its previous pattern and start on a new tack after a zero had turned up.

He thus had two-thirds of the board covered less the zero and, since the dozens pay odds of two to one, he stood to win a hundred thousand francs every time any number lower than 25 turned up.

After seven coups he had won six times. He lost on the seventh When 30 came up. His net profit was half a million francs.

He kept off the table for the eighth throw. Zero turned up. This piece of luck cheered him further and, accepting the 30 as a finger-post to the last dozen, he decided to back the first and last dozens until he had lost twice.

Ten throws later the middle dozen came up twice, costing him four hundred thousand francs, but he rose from the table eleven hundred thousand francs to the good.

Directly Bond had started playing in maximums, his game had become the centre of interest at the table. As he seemed to be in luck, one or two pilot fish started to swim with the shark.

Sitting directly opposite, one of these, whom Bond took to be "an American, had shown more than the usual friendliness and pleasure at his share of the winning streak.

He had smiled once or twice across the table, and there was something pointed in the way he duplicated Bond's movements, placing his two modest plaques of ten mille exactly opposite Bond's larger ones.

When Bond rose, he too pushed back his chair and called cheerfully across the table: 'Thanks for the ride. Guess I owe you a drink. Will you join me?

He knew he was right as they strolled off together towards the bar, after Bond had thrown a plaque of ten mille to the croupier and had given a mille to the huissier who drew back his chair.

What shall we have to celebrate? In a deep champagne goblet. Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet.

Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon- peel. Got it? Bond laughed.

But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad.

This drink's my own invention. I'm going to patent it when I can think of a good name. He reached for it and took a long sip.

The barman grinned. But Leiter was still interested in Bond's drink. I hope it hasn't frightened away any of the big money. All the burnt trees are coming down tonight and if they work things here like they do at Monte Carlo, there won't be a trace of the mess left in the morning.

Our people are definitely interested. They think it's just as important as your friends do, and they don't think there's anything crazy about it at all.

In fact, Washington's pretty sick we're not running the show, but you know what the big brass is like. I expect your fellows are much the same in London.

With Mathis and his boys here, there may not be much that isn't taken care of already. But, anyway, here I am.

I'm glad Le Chiffre seems as desperate as we thought he was. I'm afraid I haven't got anything very specific for you to do, but I'd be grateful if you'd stick around the Casino this evening.

I've got an assistant, a Miss Lynd, and I'd like to hand her over to you when I start playing. You won't be ashamed of her.

She's a good-looking girl. I can't ; imagine he'll try a roughhouse, but you never know. It turned out that Leiter was from Texas. While he talked on about his job with the Joint Intelligence Staff of N.

Felix Leiter was about thirty-five. He was tall with a thin bony frame and his lightweight, tan-coloured suit hung loosely from his shoulders like the clothes of Frank Sinatra.

His movements and speech were slow," but one had the feeling that there was plenty of speed and strength in him, and that he.

As he sat hunched over the table, he seemed to have some of the jackknife quality of a falcon. There was this impression also in his face, in the sharpness of his chin and cheekbones and the wide wry mouth.

His grey eyes had a feline slant which was in- creased by his habit of screwing them up against the smoke of the Chesterfields which he tapped out of the pack in a chain.

The permanent wrinkles which this habit had etched at the corners gave the impression that he smiled more with his eyes than with his mouth.

A mop of straw-coloured hair lent his face a boyish look which closer examination contradicted. Although he seemed to talk quite openly about his duties in Paris, Bond soon noticed that he never spoke of his American colleagues in Europe or in Washington, and he guessed that Leiter held the interests of his own organization far above the mutual concerns of the North Atlantic Allies.

Bond sympathized with him. Before leaving the Casino, Bond deposited his total capital of twenty-four million at the caisse, keeping only a few notes of ten mille as pocket- money.

As they walked across to the Splendide, they saw that a team of workmen was already busy at the scene of the explosion.

Several trees were uprooted and hoses frOm three municipal tank cars were washing down the boulevard and pavements. The bomb-crater had disap- peared and only a few passers-by had paused to gape.

Bond assumed that similar face-lifting had already been carried out at the Hermitage and to the, shops and front- ages which had lost their windows.

Bond was not sure, and said so. Mathis had been unable to enlighten him, 'Unless you have bought him yourself,' he had said, 'you must assume that he has been bought by the other side.

All concierges are venal. It is not their fault. They are trained to regard all hotel guests except maharajahs as potential cheats and thieves.

They have as much concern for your comfort or welKbeing as crocodiles. Bond thought it well to say that he still felt a little bit shaky. He hoped that if the intelligence were relayed; Le Chiffre would at any rate start playing that evening with a basic misinterpretation of his adversary's strength.

The concierge proffered glycerine hopes for Bond's recovery. ROUGE ET NOIR 49 Letter's room was on one of the upper floors and they parted company at the lift after arranging to see each other at the Casino at around half-past ten or eleven, the usual hour for the high tables to begin play.

CHAPTER 8 Pink Lights and Champagne Bond walked up to his room, which again showed no sign of trespass, threw off his clothes, took a long hot bath followed by an ice-cold shower, and lay down on his bed.

There remained an hour in which to rest and compose his thoughts before he met the girl in the Splendide bar, an hour to examine minutely the details of his plans for the game, and for after the game, in all the various circumstances of victory or defeat.

He had to plan the attendant roles of Mathis, Letter, and the girl and visualize the reactions of the enemy in various contingencies.

He closed his eyes, and his thoughts pursued his imagination through a series of carefully constructed scenes as if he were watching the tumbling chips of coloured glass in a kaleidoscope.

He rose and dressed, dismissing the future completely from his mind. As he tied his thin, double-ended, black satin tie, he His grey-blue eyes looked calmly back with a hint of ironical inquiry and the short lock of black hair which would never stay in place slowly subsided to form a thick comma above his right eyebrow.

With the thin vertical scar down his right cheek the general effect was faintly piratical. Not much of Hoagy Carmichael there, thought Bond, as he filled a flat, light, gun-metal box with fifty of the Morland cigarettes with the triple gold band.

Mathis had told him of the girl's comment. He slipped the case into his hip pocket and snapped his black oxidized Ronson to see if it needed fuel.

After pocketing the thin sheaf of ten-mille notes, he opened a drawer and took out a light chamois leather holster and slipped it over his left shoulder so that it hung about three inches below his armpit.

He then took from under his shirts in another drawer a very flat. He charged the weapon again, loaded it, put up the safety catch, and dropped it into the shallow pouch of the shoulder-holster.

He looked carefully round the room to see if anything had been forgotten and slipped his single-breasted dinner-jacket coat over his heavy silk evening shirt.

He felt cool and comfortable. He verified in the mirror that there was absolutely no sign of the flat gun under his left arm, gave a final pull at his narrow tie and walked out of the door and locked it.

When he turned at the foot of the short stairs towards the bar, he heard the lift-door open behind him and a cool voice call, 'Good evening.

She stood and waited for him to come up to her. He had remembered her beauty exactly. He was not surprised to be thrilled by it again.

There was a thin necklace of diamonds at her throat and a diamond clip in the low vee which just exposed the jutting swell of her breasts.

She carried a plain black evening bag, a flat oblong which she now held, her arm akimbo, at her waist. Her jet-black hair hung straight and simply to the final in- ward curl below the chin.

She looked quite superb, and Bond's heart lifted. Business must be good in the radio world! It marks when you sit down. And, by the way, if you hear me scream tonight, I shall have sat on a cane chair.

We'll have a glass of vodka while we order our dinner. The food here's the best in Royale. But it was only an infinitesimal clink of foils and as the bowing maitre d'hStel led them through the crowded room, it was forgotten as Bond in her wake watched the heads of the diners turn to look at her.

The fashionable part of the restaurant was beside the wide crescent of window built out like the broad stern of a ship over the hotel gardens, but Bond had chosen a table in one of the mirrored alcoves at the back of the great room.

These had survived from Edwardian days and they were secluded and gay in white and gilt, with the red silk-shaded table and wall lights of the late Empire.

He turned to his companion. He said to her abruptly: 'I can't drink the health of your new frock without knowing your Christian name.

Bond gave her a look of inquiry. Apparently they wanted to remember it. I'm just used to it. An idea struck him.

He explained about the special Martini he had invented and his search for a name for it. Can I have it? And now have you decided what you would like to have for dinner?

Please be ex- pensive, ' he, added as he sensed her hesitation, 'or you'll let down that beautiful frock.

And then I'd like to have fraises des bois with a lot of cream. Is it very shameless to be so certain and so expensive?

While Mademoiselle is enjoying the strawberries, I will have an avocado pear with a little French dressing. Do you ap- prove? Mon- sieur George.

It is a cheerful wine, and it suits the occasion — I hope,' he added. With his finger on the page, Bond turned to the sommelier: 'The Taittinger 45?

It comes partly from being a bachelor, but mostly from a habit of taking a lot of trouble over details. I think that's the way to live.

But it sounds rather schoolgirlish when one says it, 5 she added apologetically. The little carafe of Vodka had arrived in its bowl of crushed ice, and Bond filled their glasses.

He was longing to tell you himself. It's, about the bomb: It's a fantastic story. He was in a Citroen, and he had picked up two English hikers as protective colouring.

At the roadblock his French was so bad that they asked for his papers, and he brought out a gun and shot one of the motor-cycle patrol.

But the other man got him, I don't know how, and managed to stop him committing suicide. Then they took him down to Rouen and extracted the story — in the usual French fashion, I suppose.

He said the bright colours would make it easier for them. He told them that the blue case contained a very powerful smoke-bomb. The red case was the explosive.

As one of them threw the red case the other was to press a switch on the blue case, and they would escape under cover of the smoke.

In fact, the smoke-bomb was a pure invention to make the Bulgars think they could get away. Both cases contained an identical high-explosive bomb.

There was no difference between the blue and the red cases. The idea was to destroy you and the bomb- throwers without a trace.

Presumably there were other plans for dealing with the third man. It would be better, they thought, to touch off the smoke- bomb first and, from inside the cloud of smoke, hurl the explosive bomb at you.

What you saw was the assistant bomb-thrower pressing down the lever on the phony smoke-bomb; and, of course, they both went up together. When he saw what had hapr pened, he assumed they had bungled.

But the police picked up some fragments of the unexploded red bomb, and he was confronted with them. When he saw that they had been tricked and that his two friends were meant to be murdered with you, he started to talk.

I ex- pect he's still talking now. But there's nothing to link all this with Le Chiffre. The caviar was heaped on to their plates, and they ate for a time in silence.

After a while Bond said: 'It's very satisfactory to be a corpse who changes places with his murderers.

For them, it certainly was a case of being hoist with their own petard. Mathis must be very pleased with the day's work — five of the opposition neutralized in twenty-four hours.

What section are you in? It seemed only to be a liaison job, so M. I've got a friend who is a vendeuse with Dior, and somehow she managed to borrow me this and the frock I was wearing this morn- ing; otherwise I couldn't possibly have competed with all these people.

All they knew was that I was to work with a Double O. Of course you're our heroes. I was en- chanted.

It's nothing to be par- ticularly proud of. Probably quite decent people. They just got caught up in the gale of the world like that Yugoslav that Tito bumped off.

It's a confusing business; but if it's one's profession one does what one's told. How do you like the grated egg with your caviar?

It seems a shame — ' She stopped, warned by a cold look in Bond's eye. Suddenly he regretted the intimacy of their dinner and of their talk.

He felt that he had said too much and what was only a working relationship had become confused. Which isn't very much, I'm afraid,' he added.

The maltre d'hdtel surpervised the serving of the second course, and then as they ate the delicious food Bond continued. She listened to him coldly, but with attentive obedi- ence.

She- felt thoroughly deflated by his harshness, while admitting to herself that she should have paid more heed to the warnings of Head of S.

He thinks of nothing but the job on hand and, while it's on, he's absolute hell to work for. But he's an expert, and there aren't many about; so you won't be wasting your time.

He's a good-looking chap— but don't fall for him. I don't think he's got much heart. Anyway, good luck, and don't get hurt. Then at a hint 60 CASINO ROYALE that they were finding pleasure together, a hint that was only the first words of a conventional phrase, he had suddenly turned to ice and had brutally veered away as if warmth were poison to him.

She felt hurt and foolish. Then she gave a mental shrug and concentrated with all her attention on what he was saying.

She would not make the same mistake again. The odds against the banker and the player are more or less even.

Only a run against either can be decisive and ' 'break the bank, ' ' or break the players.

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Verified Purchase. Most of the the one and two star reviewers of this book were sadly disappointed, expecting that the glitzy movie version of Bond would be found in Fleming's actual books.

But, with the exception of Sean Connery's Bond in the first three movies, and Daniel Craig's back-to-basics interpretation in the first three of the current series, the movie Bond character for the most part has been nothing more than escapist fantasy.

The literary Bond isn't the superhero of the movies. He's a flawed, cold killer in the service of his country in a dangerous time. Written during the height of the Cold War, Fleming's Bond novels were based on actual people and operations that Fleming had first hand knowledge of because of his highly placed role in British Naval Intelligence during WW II.

Rather than judge Casino Royale, or any of Fleming's Bond novels, by what you've seen in the movies, instead first learn about the real Operation Goldeneye; the real Operation Tracer; the real Operation Ruthless; the real No.

The tradecraft, operations, units, events, and involved individuals were the very real WW II sources that Ian Fleming used in creating Bond and the world in which he moved.

Fleming's romanticized works have a ring of authenticity recognizable to anyone familiar with or who may have participated in events that occurred during those times.

Read Casino Royale; travel back to a time when French was the only international language; a time when Joseph Stalin and the Soviet NKVD represented a very real threat; a time when people feared that threat; and a time when the governments of the Free World had very real people on the payroll like Fleming's fictional James Bond to counter that threat.

Perhaps you'll see the same things in it that caused the first three printings to sell out quickly in the U. At the time of Casino Royale , Bond is about 30 years old and has held the 00 number for about six months.

He earns the U. He spends what he earns. He knows that statistically he will have at least 10, probably 20, and as many as 30 very tough assignments before the mandatory 00 retirement age of Too many.

He knows the odds of his surviving the coming ten years are slim to none. And that depresses him. How do I know? Ian Fleming tells us so in Chapter One of "Moonraker" third book in the series.

That's the Bond that Ian Fleming created. Much more interesting and gritty and real and human. It's the Bond Daniel Craig resurrected until the new crop of Hollywood fools screwed it up again with November 's Spectre.

I'll stick with the books, thank you very much! Fleming's writing style, while perhaps not rising to the expectations of modern pedantic poseur literary critics, is easy to read and follow.

As would be expected from a successful journalist writing for educated U. I didn't find that aspect disruptive at all to the flow of the narrative.

If you want entertaining glitz, stick with the movies; if want something more, read the books! I've enjoyed them all immensely in the context of the time period in which they take place.

Bond fans may want to check out flemingsbond. There are two versions of this book for kindle, a 63 page version and a page version.

The 63 page version does not say that it is abridged. It claims to be just "Casino Royale" by Ian Fleming. The 63 page version is also a bad scan job riddled with typos.

This is a shortened, sanitized version of a classic spy novel. Don't waste your money unless that is what you are looking for.

John S. Top Contributor: Star Trek. Possible spoilers below- This kickstarter to the James Bond novels is written very well.

From the start, Fleming creates a bond no pun intended between the reader and the cold, calculating spy that is James Bond. The atmosphere of the novel is indeed tense, and the expressions on the characters' faces are easily imagined.

I was particularly impressed with the Le Chiffre character, who is written in a clear and convincing way.

Fleming describes his facial expressions and mannerisms in a way that you feel almost familiar with him, and it's somewhat terrifying.

There is a torture scene that is quite difficult to read, but its aftermath is what makes the novel. Despite all his coldness, James Bond's humanity is revealed in his romance with Vesper Lynd.

You can feel his happiness at possibly having found a soul mate, his frustration when the relationship sours, and most of all, his bitterness and deep hurt when Vesper denies both of them happiness by committing suicide and revealing herself to him in a suicide note.

In the end this is an enjoyable novel, though it feels a tad rushed, and is not really a "spy novel" per se.

Only about half the book contains the "meat"- the poker battle with Le Chiffre and the later confrontation that sees Bond brutally tortured.

The rest is more of a love story, but still provides valuable insight into the Bond character. The physical book is well put together, I might add.

I prefer the modernized look and design to the rather suggestive covers normally used on Bond novels in the past. See all reviews from the United States.

Top international reviews. This must be considered a significant book. In many ways, it does not matter if it is good or bad, as a piece of literature it is the point that marks the beginning of something that would become a pop culture phenomenon: James Bond This is a book that I first read many years ago and was one that I decided to read again, remembering just how much I loved the Bond books and, of course, to look at through more world-weary eyes.

It seemed to start a bit jerkily as though Fleming was coming to terms with his writing, but it smoothed as it went along.

He is. For me the book was an excellent read, and rather than looking at it through modern eyes with modern sensibilities I tried to look at it as it was written, a contemporary piece that has, by the passage of time, become a period piece.

It is a rather interesting look at another time, when the memories of war were that more immediate, where the men had been shaped by that conflict, when sexism was just part of the culture, a good decade off from really starting to change although the seeds are being sown.

The core of the story is a strong one though, something that can be attested to by the more recent movie of the same name.

Cleverly the writers of that have kept the main beats and plot points in place, and updated them for a modern audience.

The novel deals with something that is in some ways simple, but as with most things, simple works best. An agent of a foreign power has squandered funds he should not have done and is trying to recoup that loss through card play.

It is a rollercoaster of a ride, with the baccarat part of the novel written well enough that you can follow how the game works, and causing tension to build nicely as the cards are played.

It is what happens after that steals the book though, with a damaged and somewhat cornered animal striking out, but even this does not deal with the increasing twists that just keep coming.

It is an old-world story, that catches the feel of its era. Everyone smokes heavily, there is a sense of style that is part of that bygone era.

Bond himself is not a particularly likeable character. He is brutal, a shark swimming through a sea of lesser beings. It is only as the book progresses that we see him soften and almost become likeable.

This could, of course, be a reaction to the torture he suffers, but all the same it is this humanising of his character that gave him the potential to become the cultural icon he has.

On a final note, there is perhaps a sense of justice, in for all his attitude towards women, that virtually all the men miss the fact that the best spy among them is not male.

Overall well worth a re-read. Thank you for your feedback. Sorry, we failed to record your vote. There are arguments for and against as to Fleming's ability as a writer and I would imagine the more positive critics will home in on James Bond's debut as being the best written of the lot.

The story is familiar and even if the excellent film needed to flesh out what is in effect a novella to make a compelling piece of cinema, this remains the most credible book in the series.

Having saved this novel until last amongst all the efforts I have read, it is fair to say that the more grounded approach of this book is more akin to the better short stories.

Had Fleming continued in this vein, I feel the later books would have been better for it. One of the worst aspects of Fleming's writing could be the clunky dialogue yet the conversation during the initial meeting with Vesper Lynd struck me as so good that it was hard to believe this was the same author whose villains were often obliged to speak in comic book cliches.

Here, Fleming remains taunt and credible and conjures up a story which is only matched by "TSWLM" for a low key story line.

It is quite intriguing to see how different Bond's first appearance on the page is from later books and the manner in which the plots grew from beating a Soviet-funded Union boss at cards through to less credible efforts to destabilise the world.

Even the setting of the Channel coast of France is markedly less glamorous that the more typical Caribbean destinations.

Although "Goldfinger" is the book likely to match the expectations of a reader new to Ian Fleming, the better efforts are those of a shorter length where the writer's excesses are curtailed and the stories not quite so far fetched.

The Daniel Craig film was billed as a "re-boot" yet it mirrored the less sensational tone of Fleming's book which eschews nearly all of the elements you usually associate with James Bond.

In summary, the exoticism associated with the secret agent is almost entirely missing in this book and offers a hint at how different the stories could have been had the tone been maintained.

Amazingly, Fleming's creative powers took a nose dive two books later with the disappointing "Moonraker" and whilst the better efforts are a good, light read, Fleming never quite managed to replicate the quality of writing within the initial effort.

I hadn't read any Fleming before Casino Royale, so the chance to start at the beginning was too good to miss. I must say it is very much of it's period which is part of it's charm in places and very uncomfortable reading in others.

This Bond is no modern metrosexual and some of the ideas accepted as the norm back then are quite disturbing to a female reader in I thought it held up well as an action story and was impressed by how much it shared with the Daniel Craig film.

However I think it'll be a while before I read another Ian Fleming novel. The plot is simple, even elemental. Casino Royale was intended as the first of a series, and it received generally favourable reviews and satisfactory sales in Britain.

The Bond books gained wide popularity in the United States after the newly elected president, John F. Kennedy , named From Russia With Love on his list of favourite books in A well-received updated adaptation of the book, starring Daniel Craig as Bond, appeared in Casino Royale.

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Subscribe Now. Learn More in these related Britannica articles:. Casino Royale was the first of his 12 James Bond novels. The Bond books gained wide popularity in the United States after the….

Broccoli and Harry Saltzman did not hold the rights. Rather than try and compete with the popular Sean Connery movies, the filmmakers decided to shoot the novel as a spoof.

However, the production quickly…. Bond was first conceived as a Cold War-era operative. Trained in intelligence and special forces, the superspy always used the latest gadgets, thwarted Soviet agents, brought international gangsters to justice, and inevitably bedded a beautiful woman.

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