The Man with the Golden Gun

There’s a story that Fleming had told people he planned to become a writer once World War II ended, but one of his upper crust friends told him, “Oh Ian, don’t. You don’t have the brains for it.” And he didn’t, you know. Have the brains for it. The 007 novels, and I’ve now read them all except for Octopussy & The Living Daylights (which is on the TBR), range from bad to terrible. And The Man with the Golden Gun is toward the terrible end of the scale. Of course, the film bears no resemblance to it. (The only film which follows the plot of the novel is Thunderball, and that’s because it’s actually a novelisation of the script… and a rights battle between Fleming and four others subsequently tied up the title for show more decades.) In The Man with the Golden Gun the novel, Scaramanga plies his trade in the Caribbean and has links to the Castro regime. Bond has been sent after him because he returned from You Only Live Twice brainwashed by the KGB to kill M. But now he’s had electro-shock therapy and he’s back to his normal self. M is still wary, however: hence the mission to terminate Scaramanga. Either Bond will prove his mettle, or Scaramanga will get rid of an embarrassing loose end. Bond stumbles across a clue revealing that Scaramanga is in a town in Jamaica, heads there, meets the man in a brothel, and is hired as security for an upcoming meeting Scaramanga is hosting at his half-finished luxury hotel nearby, where “investors” (ie, mobsters) will be persuaded to hand over more cash to finish the hotel. Scaramanga talks like a hoodlum from a cheap television series, Bond is his usual two-dimensional self, and Fleming can’t resist getting in his usual offensive digs at homosexuality, women and non-whites. Parts of the novel simply don’t ring true at all, as if Fleming has done little or no research; the only bits that are convincing are his descriptions of the countryside (Fleming, of course, lived in Jamaica). As with the bulk of the Bond books, you’re better off sticking with the film. show less

The beginning was amazing -- James Bond brainwashed by the Soviets! -- but there was a lot of sturm and drang about killing one dude. Also, I cannot accept Felix Leiter as a Texan with a hook for a hand. Jeffrey Wright will always be my Felix.

Considered one of the weaker Bond novels by Fleming, but I am not sure why, as it seems of a piece with the other books. Reading this finally made me realize why Fleming's novels leave me so cold--all of the characters, including Bond, sound so goddamn fussy and dumb. There is nothing at all interesting about the conflict between Bond and Scaramanga, there is no drama, no stakes, no tension. And to be honest, that's basically all of the books in a nutshell.

This isn't Fleming's best work; indeed, having now finished all the novels, I feel pretty certain that he peaked with On Her Majesty's Secret Service, and he should have just stopped there. It would have been a much better final Bond adventure than what came next. Man with the Golden Gun opens okay, with Bond-- after the events of You Only Live Twice-- having been brainwashed by the Soviets. But once he's been deprogrammed, he's sent on a mission to Jamaica to kill a thug, which feels way beneath his talents. I think another writer could really do something with this: Bond having to prove to other and himself that he's still the man who he used to be. But Fleming doesn't do that, and this is Just Another Bond Mission.

Fleming always does show more pretty well with the mechanics of it all: Bond playing detective is good, and Scaramanga is a good villain, and the final action sequence is excellent, and the last line is a sad summation of Bond's character. But the novel has a fatal flaw, which is that Bond could just kill Scaramanga outright early on, and his reason for not doing so is completely unconvincing. Honestly, if Fleming hadn't pointed it out, I might not have noticed it, but he lampshades it, and everything that follows from there is undermined as a result. show less

Even though this was supposedly only the first draft of the novel which Fleming was unable to finish due to this death, it still comes off as a completely satisfying conclusion to the original James Bond series. Having Kenneth Branagh as the narrator in this Celebrity Performances Series also kicks it up a notch.

Truly awful. Bond-listening-to-complete-scenes-and-long-passages-of-dialogue-through-a-champagne-glass-pressed-against-a-wall awful. My threshold for Bond books is very low, but this is a real stinker. This is the kind of book where the villains pontificate about their plans and which Mike Meyers skewered so well in the Austin Powers movies. And the big threat is ... gambling in Jamaica! With possible KGB involvement! It's over before it even begins and reads like it was written in one sitting without ever having been reread or edited. Yet again, 007 proves that sometimes the movie is better than the book.

Warning: spoiler for the end of You Only Live Twice.

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Bond has (rather laughably) been brainwashed by the KGB and attempted to assassinate M. Instead of simply turfing him from MI6, M decides to send him off to Jamaica to deal with the deadly gunman for hire known as Scaramanga, "the man with the golden gun". If Bond is successful in eliminating this fellow, it will be a job well done. If he isn't successful, well, he won't be a problem to the organization anymore.

The book, while silly as only a Bond book can be, is much better than the movie. The plot may lack a fantastical gadget as its main purpose, but it is much more interesting as a result. It's really about Bond vs. Scaramanga -- they are set up to be foils to one another, show more equal in talent but using their talents to somewhat different ends. Or are they really all that different?

Recommended if you've been enjoying the Bond books, but it's probably best to read this one in order. show less