Ian Fleming's Toy Box

By Patrick M

            Ian Fleming's Casino Royale tells a cold war spy story, and is the first in a series following British secret agent, James Bond. In this first adventure, Bond must defeat a bankrupt and desperate Le Cheiffre in a high stakes game of Bakara. Le Cheiffre, a member of the Russian secret service is on his last legs and will do anything to save his own neck. This happens as a romance blossoms between Bond and his appointed personal assistant Vesper Lynd. All culminate into a storm of violence, torture, and tragedy.

            What Ian Fleming nails is the aesthetic of being a world travelling secret agent. This is ultimately his fantasy, and he writes with blunt and simple exposition explaining Bond's experiences in ways that feel slick. Unfortunately, this only lends itself to surface level coolness. Fleming's fantastical indulgence hurts just about every other part of the story. The spy plot itself is interesting on its own but the characterization that drives it fails. Bond is set up to be a blunt instrument with an egotistical complex who enjoys the finer things, but the writing lacks the irony needed to make such a character interesting. The story being Fleming's fantasy, he basks in his own ego. The romance between Bond and Vesper is also set back by Fleming's blatant misogyny. Vesper is a reluctant weakness that Bond comes to accept rather than a charismatic equal. And reading about Bond fantasizing over the "tang of rape" can't help but put a sour taste in one's mouth.

            Much like an overwhelming majority of the James Bond film franchise, the novel functions best as pure escapism. It's short length prevents it from being difficult to digest, but there just isn't much here beyond a cool spy aesthetic. For anyone craving a simple spy story this may satisfy that itch, but Fleming lacks the subtleties or complexities to create any sort of thematic relevance.