I've been working my way through Ian Fleming's James Bond books of late. Cos I'm inherently lazy and I'd fall asleep if I were actually reading them (early commute), I'm listening to them on my iPod, mind – what's even less taxing than reading a James Bond? Listening to a James Bond book.
I'm currently listening to The Man with the Golden Gun, which like almost all the books has virtually nothing to do with the movies and vice versa. It's slightly amusing anyway since the man reading them tries to do the accents and he's not the world's best at that; now imagine a book set on Jamaica, where half the characters appear to be Pakistani...
But then I get to this cracking psychological analysis of Scaramanga, the villain.
“I read recently a profile of Scaramanga in Time magazine. It mentioned something that was barely commented on, but I think is important. It said Scaramanga can't whistle. Although it may be hearsay, I think there is an element of truth to the suggestion that homosexuals cannot whistle.”
There's a lot of that kind of rubbish in the Bond books, although you can never be quite sure whether Fleming's taking the piss - the books get a little more knowing as the series goes on. There's Pussy Galore in Goldfinger who gets 'cured' of her lesbianism by Bond - she was raped when younger and that put her off men, but one night with Bond fixed her. And then there's From Russia With Love, where the villain has to murder people during the full moon because he's manic depressive.
But you've got to love 1950s psychology, haven't you? They came up with some outstanding stuff, all cloaked with the authority of science. All the movies and books picked up on it and now we have an entire decade of media that is entirely laughable thanks to their attempt to use science to guide their plotting and characterisation.
Updates and related entries
June 3, 2006: Stu and I were having a nice little chat about Ian Fleming's capacity for BS, back on my earlier laugh at the psychology in The Man with the Golden Gun. Stu you are so right. Fleming was the king...
June 1, 2006 | Reply
Oh, I'm fairly certain Fleming was taking the piss. He was big mates with Noel Coward — I can just imagine the two of them having a laugh about the 'gayers can't whistle' thing.
June 1, 2006 | Reply
I had my suspicions. It's so hard to tell, given his track record, though. Plus it had too much of the Brass Eyes about it for me to keep a straight face.
And it's not exactly out of keeping with the 'psychology' of the era, given all of Hitchcock's output in the area (Vertigo, Spellbound, Marnie, Psycho, etc), any film starring Ralph Bellamy, Herbert Lom's psychiatry opus including The Human Jungle and so on.
But I'd have paid good money to have seen Ian Fleming larking about with Noel Coward.
PS Re-reading the entry, I can see early morning blogging doesn't agree with me...
June 1, 2006 | Reply
"But I'd have paid good money to have seen Ian Fleming larking about with Noel Coward."
Isn't that what's known as real-world slash?
Ahem.
Fleming was an absolutely relentless bullshitter. He lies about booze as well. There's a bit in one of the books where Bond carefully explains why he always puts pepper in his vodka. It's complete bollocks.
And as a complete aside, one of the British Aerospace PR people is called Peter Scaramanga. Impossible to speak to him without getting the giggles. One of my colleagues keeps threatening to ask him how many nipples he's got.
June 1, 2006 | Reply
Only if there's a thriving Ian Fleming-Noel Coward crossover slash fiction community. Otherwise, it's just called Amsterdam.
I knew that the "shaken not stirred" stuff was rubbish, but wasn't sure if that was the movie people messing with the book or not - I had the feeling they thought it sounded better, even though you end up with 'bruised' Martini (or something). Could well believe that Fleming made everything up though.
Ask that PR guy to whistle. See if he can. Dare you.
June 1, 2006 | Reply
He'll send a midget round to kill me.
Or possibly just shoot me, you never know.
June 1, 2006 | Reply
I find it hard enough to believe that BA's PR budget would cover the price of one top-flight international assassin with three nipples. If they can employ midget assassins as well, that clearly means the spat with Virgin Atlantic a while back went deeper than we thought and they really got tooled up.
Maybe they get him half price though?
God, I'm starting to sound like an episode of The Office.
June 1, 2006 | Reply
Ah, but this is British Aerospace. They're arms dealers. Probably breed assassins in a vat somewhere in Hampshire.
June 1, 2006 | Reply
Doh! Really am cream-crackered today...
I do hear Hampshire breeds the best assassins in vats though.