Casino Royale

Book Title- Casino Royale (A James Bond Novel)

Author- Ian Fleming

Publisher- Penguin Group …(Original Publisher JOnathan Cape in 1953)

 

Synopsis

James Bond is a British Secret Agent who goes to a casino in France for an assignment- to beat a banker for the deadly Russian organisation, SMERSH- on the baccarat tables. He dodges a couple of death attempts, wins all the money from the enemy, gets captured, escapes alive, and in the meantime flirts with a hot lady, as usual.

 

Review

There is a movie version of Casino Royale, starring Daniel Craig, who I never thought suited James Bond’s character too well. And I would never ever say that any movie version of a book is better (ok, actually, sometimes I do), and I haven’t even watched the movie, but I have a feeling the movie is better. Not that fast action is better on screen, I have read action packed (sorry to use the phrase) books which were great- but something is missing in the telling of this story, full of action, yes, but I felt like I’d rather watch it than read. And the story itself- well, it looks like it was churned out pretty quick. The double O spy goes to a casino on a mission- to gamble and win! I mean, really? How do they ever know he will win without cheating (he doesn’t cheat, he just wins). Do secret agencies really spend millions of pounds (in this case) so that some suave spy can blow it off in a casino while ordering custom made Martinis, in an off chance that he might win, and thus defeat evil villains? Taxpayers should be worried. And really, that’s what a spy does? Drink martinis, wear expensive clothes and generally act like Hugh Hefner while occasionally dodging bombs? YEAH.  AND there was a line somewhere about Bond thinking that sex with his lissome secret agent assistant would ‘always have the thrill of rape because she is such a private person’. Yep. I do not kid. The whole book reeks with Bond’s sexist attitude towards women, but this here outright says it. James Bond is a D-bag. I am really not a feminist man beater type, but JB is a sexist (other names here). AND the story is lame. Not a fan. Want a thrilling spy story? Read the Bourne Identity.

Verdict

Plus- I managed to finish reading the book. It didn’t kill me. But again, the only reason I kept reading was because I promised to finish every book I start. This is really hard sometimes, I should really pick a better book in the library today. Minus- Spy= Young, English version of Hugh Hefner (even wears the knee length dressing gown) who doesn’t do anything much but still manages to kill/somehow defeat the Russians. And gets ANY girl. Uh-oh, my loathing is showing, lets just say it’s a crap book best used as fantasy fodder by adolescent boys. Oh did I mention the lady Spy is called ‘Vesper’. Yep, again, not kidding.