Five Non-Fleming James Bond Novels Worth Your Time
Let’s be real. After Ian Fleming passed away in 1964, there hasn’t been much in the way of worthy Bond stories. Some, myself included, might even say that not all the master’s work was up to snuff. That blasphemy is another article for another day. Today it’s about the best non-Fleming Bond novels — or some of the few that are worth your time.
Seven authors have tried their hand at bringing our favourite double-O to life, writing a total of 26 novels, more than doubling Fleming’s output. And that leaves out John Pearson’s fictional biography, the novelisations, Raymond Benson’s handful of short stories, the Young Bond series, The Moneypenny Diaries spinoff, and whatever else is out there — all of which I am disregarding here. This will only cover original, grown-up Bond novels.
Out of these, I count nine or maybe ten which are any good. Perhaps three of these measure up to Fleming’s (weaker) work. No more than five are really worth reading for those not obsessed with all things James Bond.
So, in order of publication…
Colonel Sun (Kingsley Amis, pseudonym Robert Markham, 1968)
Kingsley Amis was the first author to pick up where Fleming left off, writing under the pseudonym Robert Markham.
Amis’ single entry, Colonel Sun was published in 1968, three years after Fleming’s last novel, The Man with the Golden Gun. Amis also wrote The James Bond Dossier, the first literary study of James Bond.
The story finds M kidnapped and Bond tracking the kidnappers to the Greece and the Aegean Islands. Bond uncovers a sinister plot to start a war between the West and the Soviet Union, led by the titular villain, an agent of Chinese People’s Liberation Army.
What Amis does particularly well is the mood and atmosphere; at times Colonel Sun feels like Fleming wrote it. Amis is especially successful in bringing Greece to life in true Fleming fashion. The plot is also something at least Fleming-esque, although it is a bit more politically involved than his usually were. It falters a bit toward the end, with a handy deus ex machina saving Bond’s hide, but it does the job well enough.
With less baggage and pressure from the films series than later novels, there is a strong sense of continuity and of this being a logical, contemporary progression of the book series. The latter is helped along by the introduction of China as force to be reckoned with in Bond’s world, in line with the geopolitical dynamics of the times. There are even references to the war in Vietnam.
Although there was never any shortage of violence in Fleming’s stories, Amis lends it a nasty and sometimes clinical air, augmenting the brutality. Bond himself also comes across as colder and more cruel than when written by his creator. There is a certain lack of finesse and humanity, both in the way Bond is portrayed and the prose generally. Simply put, Amis doesn’t have Fleming’s suave way with words and his human touch. For example, there is a scene toward the end where Ariadne Alexandrou, Bond’s love interest, casually brushes off being gang-raped. Even by Fleming’s often questionable standards, the author’s callous treatment of this is galling. Comparing this to the subtle tenderness Bond shows Tiffany Case, also a victim of gang-rape, in Diamonds Are Forever seems to reveal a difference between the two author’s outlook and understanding of sexual violence.
Then there is the elephant in the room/book; the overt and abundant racism. While there can be no doubt that Fleming’s views on and handling of race and ethnicity are suspect to modern readers, there is generally the sense that he was simply a product of his time. Amis on the other hand seems to revel in racial caricatures and unpleasant, unflattering descriptions of ethnic features and imputed racial traits. It’s enough to make you cringe but not to ruin the whole thing.
Licence Renewed (John Gardner, 1981)
After Colonel Sun, thirteen years would pass until the next original Bond novel was published. In 1981, John Gardner picked up the mantle.
By this time it was nigh unavoidable that the film series would influence the literary Bond. And while Gardner appears to have tried to strike a balance between Fleming’s original and Roger Moore’s eyebrow raising superspy, the influence of the latter undercuts any attempt at Fleming grittiness.
In Licence Renewed, Bond is dispatched to Scotland to cozy up to a Dr. Anton Murik, a nuclear physicist believed to be dabbling in terrorism. In true Roger Moore era fashion, Murik turns out to be planning to cause a meltdown in several nuclear power plants if his ransom demands are not met. With the help of Lavender Peacock, quite possibly the most outlandishly named Bond lady of all times, Bond foils the plot and takes down the good doctor Murik.
With the films looming so large, it is almost pointless to compare Licence Renewed, or any of Gardner’s work, with Fleming’s. This incarnation of James Bond is simply a different beast. Still, by way of a plethora of references throughout his fourteen Bond novels, Gardner makes clear that they a continuation of the Fleming canon.
Gardner takes pains to bring Bond into the 1980s and this is a big part of the fun with Licence Renewed. The author said that his approach was
[…] to put Bond to sleep where Fleming had left him in the sixties, waking him up now in the 80s having made sure he had not aged, but had accumulated modern thinking on the question of Intelligence and Security matters.
The only concession made to the years gone by are minutes flecks of grey in Bond’s black hair. The weaponry and gadgets are updated; the trusty Walther PPK is replaced with a Browning F.N. Model 1903 and a Ruger Super Blackhawk, a veritable canon, can be found in his glovebox. Said glovebox is located in Bond’s new car, a heavily modified Saab 900 Turbo. In keeping with the times (and common sense), Bond has cut back on his drinking and now smokes a low-tar blend.
While Licence Renewed is by far Gardner’s best, with a story much stronger than anything he wrote for Bond later, it doesn’t compare except to Fleming’s weakest output. What propels it into this list is the meticulous updating of Bond for the 1980s; it is a joy for anyone familiar with Fleming’s stories. Subsequent novels obviously could not repeat this and without this added push, most of Gardner’s work is expendable.
As a side note, Gardner had a knack for titles: Nobody Lives Forever, The Man from Barbarossa and Never Send Flowers are wonderfully Bondian. It is a wonder that the film franchise has not taken advantage.
High Time to Kill (Raymond Benson, 1999)
Much like John Gardner’s work, most of Benson’s Bond is sub-par. Benson took over from Gardner in 1996 and went on to write six original Bond novels until bowing out in 2003. His Bond feels closer to Fleming’s than Gardner’s (or Roger Moore’s) but there is more than a whiff of the films and the Brosnan era. In terms of continuity, Gardner’s work is taken into account.
At his best, Benson does a passable job. At worst his Bond reads like bad fan fiction and this is especially true of the latter three of his books. The naughty bits in particular make you squirm; where Fleming’s style gave the impression that he was a worldly and experienced philanderer, Benson comes across as a horny teenager spelling out his fantasies.
Benson’s standout Bond novel is High Time to Kill, his third. In it, a secret formula for a kind of coating which will enable aircraft flight at five times the speed of sound is stolen. Bond is sent to retrieve a microfilm containing the formula but before he can, it ends up in the Himalayas by way of a plane crash. Shadowy mercenary terrorist organisation The Union, the Russians and the Chinese are also after the formula and a race into the mountains ensues.
While it barely scratches the heels of any of Fleming’s work, three elements elevate this book above much of the continuation novels.
First, there is Roland Marquis, a boyhood rival of Bond’s, whose inclusion creates a sense of personal stakes and provides an opportunity to expound on Bond’s school days. Second, the trek through the Himalayas brings a sense of adventure and journey not seen elsewhere in the Bond canon. It is reminiscent of Indiana Jones and The Lord of Rings but Benson does it in a way that is appropriate for Bond.
Lastly, and most importantly, it is not a Roger Moore-ian Bond-saves-the-World affair but one of espionage and intrigue, more grounded in reality than most of Benson’s Bond; less like Moonraker (film) and more like From Russia with Love (either novel or film). While the former may be a great spectacle on the silver screen and sell more tickets, the subtleties of latter simply play out better on the written page.
Like Gardner, Benson did well with titles: Zero Minus Ten, The Facts of Death, and Never Dream of Dying could all have sprung from Fleming’s pen.
Carte Blanche (Jeffery Deaver, 2011)
After the successful rebooting of the film series with Casino Royale in 2006, it will have made sense to reboot the literary Bond as well. Jeffery Deaver did this splendidly with the appropriately titled Carte Blanche.
After preventing an act of environmental terrorism in Serbia, Bond investigates Severan Hydt, a waste disposal magnate (how glamorous!) who appears to be involved in shady dealings and evil schemes. Given how the story plays out, it is better to not divulge more details. Suffice it to say that, unsurprisingly, mayhem ensues.
Carte Blanche is a hard reboot, bringing Bond entirely into the modern world of 2011. Bond is now born in 1979 and a veteran of Operation Herrick in Afghanistan, rather than World War II, and his entire background is revamped to fit this timeline. While doing this, Deaver manages to stay utterly faithful to the original blueprint, more so than anyone since Kingsley Amis — or perhaps since Fleming himself. He shows a keen sense of the character’s essence (his grit and resourcefulness, love of food, drink and women) and skill applying it in a new context, deftly weaving in familiar elements from the originals (Bond naming a drink he concocted, tongue-in-cheek names for female characters, a villain with deviant tendencies). It is splendidly done and will delight Fleming aficionados.
The book’s only real flaw? The convoluted plot, which is really two plots and a personal subplot for Bond, and the consequent length. At 448 pages (first edition), it drags on quite a bit. It is the longest Bond novel by far — a good 100 pages longer than William Boyd’s Solo, the second longest, and about twice as long as some of Fleming’s.
By trimming the fat, this one would have matched some of Fleming’s finest. Even so, on the strength of the main story, the tight writing, perfect pace and Deaver’s treatment of Bond, this is easily the best non-Fleming Bond in my opinion. A splendid addition to the series, one cannot but hope for a follow-up one day.
Forever and a Day
by Anthony Horowitz, 2018
Except for Carte Blanche, all the novels written since Raymond Benson left the series have picked up soon after where Fleming left off in the sixties. Frustratingly, each of the three authors chose to ignore the others’ output, as well as Colonel Sun. Anthony Horowitz is the only one of these authors to have written more than one entry, two at the time of writing and perhaps a third on the way. He is also the only one to incorporate unpublished material from Ian Fleming, originally intended for a television series that was never made.
Forever and a Day is the second of Horowitz’s entries in the series. It occurs in 1950, a year or two before Casino Royale, and recounts Bond’s first mission as a 00. The previous 007 has been killed and Bond is sent to Nice, France, to investigate the murder and follow up on the case his predecessor was working on. The newly minted 007 goes on to uncover a plot to flood the United States with heroin.
Horowitz successfully channels, but never matches, Ian Fleming’s style and feel in his writing, both here and in Trigger Mortis. Unlike many of the Gardner and Benson novels, Horowitz’s Bonds read like the originals, and this is particularly true of Forever and a Day, being grittier and less fantastical than Trigger Mortis. In both of Horowitz’s books, Fleming’s material is seamlessly incorporated but while the “with original material by Ian Fleming” is interesting and probably good for sales, it does not really add much to the proceedings.
Forever and a Day is slightly better than Fleming’s weaker work, say incomplete The Man with the Golden Gun, and perhaps on par with Dr. No or even Diamonds are Forever. With the post-Fleming competition not being stiffer than it is, Forever and a Day breezes into the top five — although just a hair’s breadth ahead of William Boyd’s Solo.
Out of the dozens of novels written about James Bond, only the originals by Ian Fleming can be considered essential. The five covered here are the cream of the post-Fleming crop as far as I am concerned but there are a few more that may be worthy of a chance:
While it is entirely expendable, John Gardner’s Win, Lose or Die (1989) is a good bit of fun, mostly due to Bond’s return to naval duty and the action aboard aircraft carrier HMS Invincible. A terrorist plot is afoot to hold world leaders hostage for ransom on said ship. Those who enjoy Licence Renewed will likely like this one.
Raymond Benson’s The Facts of Death (1998) is the grittiest of this author’s six novels and perhaps the one that reads the most like Fleming. Bond investigates a series of mysterious murders which leads him to unveil a conspiracy to start a war between Greece and Turkey.
Released in celebration of Ian Fleming’s centenary, Devil May Care (2008) by Sebastian Faulks “writing as Ian Fleming” is a mostly successful blend of Fleming’s Bond and the silver screen version. In 1967, Bond looks into business man Dr. Julius Gorner, suspected of heroin trafficking. Gorner turns out to be planning to flood Europe with the drug as well as framing the United Kingdom with an attack against the Soviet Union.
William Boyd’s Solo (2013) was very nearly included among the top five but for the somewhat disjointed plot and uneven pace. Taking place in 1969, Bond heads to the fictional African country of Zanzarim to bring a swift end to a civil war broiling there by way of assassinating a rebel leader.
Finally, there is Anthony Horowitz’s Trigger Mortis (2015). Set in 1959, mere weeks after the events of Goldfinger, it features Pussy Galore attempting domestication and finds Bond uncovering a plot to sabotage the United States’ Space Programme. There is a great, very Fleming-esque scene where the villain “kills” Bond and Bond (unsurprisingly) escapes.
Aside from these, however, sticking to the originals is recommended.
