Tag Archives: ian fleming

Casino Royale

So, why have I been so few and far between with my posts? Well, there’s a reason. And unlike your dog that just got ran over by Fangzor’s monster truck through NO FAULT OF MY OWN (Send complaints to fangzor@fangzor.gov.uk), there’s a fun little reason behind it.

I just wrote my own little book. So if you’re the writer of Dancer of Gor or some other book I destroyed incomprehensibly, you can take out your revenge on Winnie-the-Pooh and the Angle of Dath.

Pooh

It’s a Winnie-the-Pooh parody I self-published. Owl gets his head blown off with a double-barreled shotgun in the first chapter, guaranteed! Fangzor already bought 300 digital copies for that reason alone!

By all means, buy it for your Kindle handheld or download it for your PC or Mac and the free kindle application. If it’s a paper copy you want, tough titties (an expression I’ve never really understood, unless we’re talking about Kim Kardashian’s silicone-alloy bullet deflectors). It’s only $4.99. If you don’t have an Infomercialan Arithmetic converter on your graphing calculator that you assumedly keep handy, that’s five bucks.

Spread the word if you can, as well. That never not helps. Right, Jo?

Jo: He said, as he posts my baby pictures to his facebook.

Shut up, they’re adorable.

Jo: The fifth one went viral, you know.

Really? D’aww. I only wish my books had such luck.

Jo: THE FIFTH ONE WAS THE TIME I DISSECTED THE NEIGHBOR’S DOG AND SHOWED IT OFF!

…and here’s the other question of the day: why am I not showing y’all Eve of Chaos?

Eve of Chaos

Y’know, THIS thing.

And y’know what? I tried to read it. On one hand, it bored me stiff. On the other hand, I couldn’t find much else wrong with it, despite the hot chick on the cover. So no dice. It’s not that bad of a book.

Fangzor: I’d still bang that main character chick.

That’s nice.

Fangzor: With a hammer made of weasels! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I WIN HAHAHAHA.

…Fangzor, are you aware that a meat grinder is nothing like a slip n’ slide?

Fangzor: Yeah, duh.

Well, I’m not so sure. Would you like to help me find out, by my sticking you in one?

Fangzor: I’LL BE GOOD. Geez.

Instead, I’d like to review a book that exemplified the ever-so-popular sexism of 1950’s Europe and the ever-so-popular character James Bond, in Ian Fleming’s first novel about the character.

Casino Royale

Some people ride into stardom on a white horse with a sword and shield in their hand. 007 came in a stolen taxi with a flat tire. But he showed up, and he became a star regardless. Ain’t that the cutest?

This book is–

Jo: Sexist.

I know, Jo.

Jo: You don’t know ENOUGH.

That is true, unfortunately. You see, I was reading it through in one night (it was a short book) and by the end, I was bored to tears with this pissy little secret agent and his romp through getting mad at people, getting his nuts thwacked under a chair with a stick (you’d think that section wouldn’t have bored me, but it did), and exciting card games.

But it was so goddamn flat and distant from human life. Bond is a very unrelatable character. At times, I felt more sympathy for Bond’s friends Leiter and Mathis, probably because Leiter either sustains heavy injuries or dies in the second book, but mainly because Bond was just such a stuck-up brooding dickweed who got all pissy about having to work with a woman like Vesper Lynd.

Jo: and?

AND after I read it, I looked at the reviews online on Goodreads–

Jo: And you found out it was sexist.

Dammit, Jo! I was getting to that.

Jo: Not quick enough for the brutality of the patriarchy. 🙂 WELCOME TO MY LIFE!

Whatev’s.

But I looked back through it – and damn.

“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.”

That’s one quote, when Bond wasn’t in love with Vesper yet. Here’s another, from when he was:

“She was thoughtful and full of consideration without being slavish and without compromising her arrogant spirit. And now he knew that she was profoundly, excitingly sensual, but that the conquest of her body, because of the central privacy in her, would each time have the tang of rape. Loving her physically would each time be a thrilling voyage without the anticlimax of arrival.”

Here, have a reaction image:

Literally me

Literally me.

Of course, this was normal in the 50’s, before Feminism really took off. Still, it’s very unsettling and untimely for a modern audience member like me.

Anyway, here’s the other problem I have with Casino Royale: it has a really wonky plot structure.

The first part of the book is exposition.

The second part of the book is trying to get to evil Soviet agent Le Chiffre.

The third part of the book is the exciting battle with Le Chiffre.

The fourth part… is a tense vacation with Vesper that ends with the line “the bitch is dead now.”

Essentially, beginning-middle-end-middle.

Dear dead Ian Fleming: you are not Bertolt Brecht. You can’t make up an arty new plot structure for a frickin’ BOND NOVEL. I know this is the first one, but jeez. Unless you’re trying to make some kind of parody of Bond, it ain’t working.

That’s all I have to say in that regard. Now I sleep.

Fangzor: sleep is for losers. I’m gonna stay up all night.

“Soft bunnies.”

Fangzor: zzzzzz…

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