So who is RD Mascott? (And yes, I say who it is, but you`ll have to be patient. If you can`t, then jump to the middle of the article.)

I`m not the only one to have asked – and it was a frustrating and perplexing question. For a Bond fan, it was like asking, Who killed JFK?

This remarkable novel, now a cult-classic, was first published in 1967, back when Glidrose (a.k.a. the Ian Fleming Estate) still had standards. A beautiful novel, far better than Fleming`s work, it was – and still is – an intelligently observed, highly literate (and literary) not to mention fairly violent novel; the UK edition claims that it`s `a story for boys and girls aged 8-14`, but adults would do just as well to read it. It`s also better than most literary novels I read nowadays (and not just this novel: I had read Salman Rushdie`s Haroun and the Sea of Stories and Ian Fleming`s The Hildebrand Rarity back-to-back and had no qualms judging Fleming`s work the better of the two – Fleming`s prose was craftsman-like; Rushdie`s was slipshod and indulgent).

When compared to the entire Bond output, only Amis`s Colonel Sun, and Christopher Wood`s James Bond, The Spy Who Loved Me could be considered more accomplished, though in some ways, James Bond Junior is the most literate and three-dimensional of the series. The novel`s humanity and even its ambiguities are remarkable: did Commander Conningtower know what Merck was up to or did James Bond Junior really save the day? Was Commander Conningtower cheating on his wife with Audrey Wedderburn? (James Bond Junior naively tells Commander Conningtower`s wife that he saw her husband in Breakneck Lane late at night, without fully understanding the implications. When James Bond Junior tells Mrs Raggles that Commander Conningtower was with a young woman, she grimaces knowingly and says, `Which is why `e couldn`t`ve been there. An` don`t you go tellin` anyone `e was, my lad. Lady C`s got enough to put up with the way it is, without a lot more Marsham tongue-wag!`) Claire Tomalin, a distinguished author herself, admired the book: `Ignore the reference to Bond; the story is a small perfect triumph in the hands of a master. This is probably the best bet for Christmas if you want to hand out spinal rather than moral chills.`

The book was shrouded in mystery from the start and Mascott`s identity was – and still is – a closely guarded secret. Neither Glidrose or Eon would tell. I interviewed Jonathan Cape publicity director Tony Colwell several weeks before he died and diplomatically, though rather unconvincingly, he claimed not to know: `Well [faint nervous chuckle], if I ever did know, I`ve completely forgotten, and I have a feeling that I did never know; it was safer not to tell anybody. Tom Maschler [Cape managing director and whiz-kid of the 1960`s British publishing scene] took it along. I just don`t know without looking at the files, and it`s unlikely to be in the files [laughed]. One doesn`t commit things like that to paper, does one?` I then asked fellow Cape managing director Graham Carleton Greene, who also remembered the book surprisingly well. When I put the $64,000 dollar question to him, he laughed and said, `You`re not going to get me to break my oath of loyalty to Cape`s that easily!` What`s odd is how well both remembered the book, as though it had just been published recently and not 34 years ago.

For four years I wondered who wrote it and even occasionally dabbled in `literary investigation`. With no luck. It wasn`t until 2000, when I came across a copy of Vassar Professor Don Foster`s book Author Unknown: On the Trail of Anonymous, that I took the plunge. Foster, whose name should be familiar, was the literary scholar who exposed Newsweek`s Joe Klein as the `Anonymous` author of the Bill Clinton roman a clef Primary Colors. The FBI subsequently hired Foster to use his `literary forensics` technique to prove that Theodore Kaczynski was indeed the Unabomber. Foster also analyzed the infamous `Talking Points` documents in the Clinton/Lewinsky scandal, and crucial evidence in the Jon Benet Ramsey murder case, evidence which is still publicly unavailable. Foster explains, `Study of an anonymous text does not always produce a decisive attribution, but I can usually narrow the field of suspects by isolating the geographic, ethnic, socioeconomic, corporate, or professional milieu to which the unknown writer belongs. […] Sentence construction in the anonymous document may be conditioned by such factors as the age, gender, education, or community of the writer, but the writer`s syntax will usually remain fairly constant from one type of writing to another.`

I read and re-read Foster`s book, absorbed his useful advice and took the plunge.

Before I go any further, I should mention that one rival website owner claimed to know someone with access to the Glidrose archives. The lucky researcher supposedly saw the original typescript and jotted the name down. Their response, if I remember correctly, was Who? Famous writer, I think not! (Apparently they expected the publishers to predict the author`s name recognition value thirty years down the road. `Well known British writer` means well known in 1967.)

The website owner originally suspected Roald Dahl, which is an interesting choice. Dahl`s 1975 novel Danny – The Champion of the World seemingly retreads ideas from the James Bond Junior novel. Rural hunting scenes are surprisingly quite common in Dahl`s work: The Magic Finger, The Princess and the Poacher, and especially Danny – The Champion of the World. Dahl also wrote an unpublished children`s novel in the late 1960`s called The Fox, which his usual publishers felt glamorized shoplifting – something the James Bond Junior book does via Sheelagh. (One of Dahl`s own daughters also had a problem with shoplifting.)

Both Mascott and Dahl describe unsympathetic people as having eyes like currants, and both use the `Misses Sippy` gag (Dahl in The BFG), though spelt differently. Unfortunately even a quick examination showed just how different Dahl`s and Mascott`s writing styles were. Dahl had a very `talking-down` quality in his writing, even his adult writing, as though he had an audience of children sitting around him and therefore over-enunciated everything so they would understand. Dahl`s prose was also noticeably more stylish.

Others were inexplicably convinced that it had to be Kingsley Amis, which it obviously isn`t. The writing styles couldn`t be more different (I find it amusing to speculate whether certain Amis advocates have read any of his non-Bond work, let alone much else.) If it was Amis, why the secrecy? He published a children`s novel under his own name. Mascott had a very `pastoral` writing style, which certainly wasn`t true of Kingsley Amis. It`s also wrong to claim that Kingsley Amis duplicated Ian Fleming`s exact writing style in Colonel Sun. Anybody reasonably well-read knows better and can tell that even though Amis managed to capture Fleming`s milieu, the writing styles remained distinct. Amis was a stylish, droll and occasionally torpid stylist… unlike Mascott (or Fleming). Whenever I threw this fact at the Amis-is-Mascott advocates, they would contradict themselves and argue that even though it reads like Amis, Amis could have disguised his writing style so that you wouldn`t know it was him. `Writers can do that, you know,` they`d add lamely. In law we call this issue estoppel.

In Author Unknown, Don Foster writes that, `Anonymous, like any anonymous writer, revealed a good deal about his way of viewing the world, and about himself, and about his purpose for writing. […] For six nail-biting months, I searched for an alternative candidate or plausible collaborator, and came up empty-handed. I could never find another writer whose language habits matched those of Anonymous and Joe Klein.` For four years I couldn`t find another writer that resembled Mascott. Mascott was an unusual writer, judging by my initial notes: he (she?) was/is literary, pastoral, not a stylist, impish sense of humour, excellent ear for dialogue and characterizations. Other details: disliked journalists; draws; lives/raised in/near Kent/Sussex environs… and kept hitting that imaginary wall. Few writers could fit this profile.

I scratched most authors off my list just by glancing at several pages of their writing. It was like listening to two pieces of music and recognizing that not only were they in different keys, but that they were tonal opposites. (For those of you who are musically inclined, play a C Major scale followed by an F# Major scale. See what I mean?)

I had read the James Bond Junior novel many times – probably several hundred times – and had a fairly good idea of what, or more correctly, whom I was looking for:

-an intelligent, highly literate writer, but not a stylist

-an older writer because of his archaic, almost scattershot, punctuation but also because of the numerous, adult philosophical observations:

As he washed himself under the shower, James thought about those three words, which had sprung out of his mouth. `I`m mine.` As the shower freshened him, he realized that this was what happened when you grew up: you became yours, nobody else`s. So did your problems. [The Adventures of James Bond Junior, Chapter 10]
James found it strange to walk again in Hazeley; how Adam and Eve might have felt, going back to the Garden of Eden, after tasting the tree of knowledge. Hazeley had been always where he played, free from the nuisance of grown-ups; a Paradise. [ The Adventures of James Bond Junior, Chapter 12]
James got up. He had won a fight, but lost a friend. He looked down at Squirrel. He wanted to say, `I`m sorry, too.` But he couldn`t. / He turned and began to run up the path towards Monkshill. He was alone. He would always be alone. [The Adventures of James Bond Junior, Chapter 19]
Mrs Raggles looked at James as he had seen his parents, schoolmasters and others look at him on dozens of accusing occasions, when they were trying to find ways of not telling the truth without telling downright lies. [The Adventures of James Bond Junior, Chapter 24]
-someone gifted at characterization, especially rustics and provincials, and therefore a rural person, not an urban dweller; Mascott is familiar with farms and animals – these details can`t be faked:

Auntie Mo might have been good-looking when she was a girl. Now she had a thin, beaky face and flabby neck, like the chickens they were plucking. Not bad-tempered by nature, James guessed, but `put upon`. Life had tautened her like violin catgut till she twanged. She twanged at any and everything; a wasp (which she astonishingly swatted with the swinging head of the chicken and flattened with her rubber-soled shoe), the sound of a shotgun (coming, James thought, from Undercote – somebody shooting pigeons) and the telephone, which she leapt to answer. [The Adventures of James Bond Junior Chapter 15]
-somebody familiar with the Kentish Weald, or thereabouts (e.g. the Home Counties, the South Downs); the novel is partially set in the fictional town of Marsham. So far as I know that town appeared in only one other story: Arthur Conan-Doyle`s Sherlock Holmes story Abbey Grange. I wouldn`t put this down to coincidence since both stories take place in the British county of Kent, which is south-east of London. Of course it could also have been an in-joke: Ann Fleming`s second married named was Rothermere.

-somebody comfortable writing about the young

-someone who could draw, or was closely related to somebody who could (wife or child, or perhaps a parent or sibling), or knew many artists

Kingsley Amis fit few of these points. His writing is considerably more stylish than Mascott`s. So far as I know, in none of Amis`s works does he show any affinity for farm life. The novel lacks the type of satirical touches that Amis was famous for – even Colonel Sun features them. James Bond Junior`s satirical touches are less acerbic and more human than Amis would have made them:

The police case was very simple, because the robbers had been caught in the act of shifting the bullion; and as gold bars are more valuable than human lives, the robbers were given longer sentences than if they had been murderers. [The Adventures of James Bond Junior, Chapter 26]
My eventual suspect, however, fit most of these check-points. His daughter, Anna, also draws and paints; his other daughter, Clare, runs an art gallery. He knew many painters, especially the Fitzrovians, and even briefly lived with the painters Cedric Morris and Arthur Lett-Haines. My suspect`s paternal grandfather, William, was a famous sculptor.

I myself focused on authors known to, and, in some cases, quite close to the Flemings for very good reasons. James Bond Junior seems to have been born the same year as Caspar Fleming (though elsewhere the book suggests that James Bond Junior was born in 1953 or 1954). Sheelagh owns a dog named Satan. So did Ian Fleming. (Peter Fleming also owned a three-legged fox named Satan; it lost its leg to a trap, rather like one of the dogs in the James Bond Junior novel.) James Bond Junior`s grandfather died three years before the story occurs, which I assume is set in the year it was published: 1967. Caspar Fleming`s grandmother died in 1964 (and also his father, but you already knew that). A three year difference. (My eventual suspect shared several acquaintances with Ann Fleming: Stephen Spender, Evelyn Waugh, Isaiah Berlin.)

I originally suspected the South African born author William Plomer. Neither Mascott or Plomer could be called stylish writers, yet both were highly literate – Plomer remains one of this last century`s most notable writers. Plomer drew and his novels feature detailed descriptions of people`s sketches, quite similar to Mascott`s descriptions in the James Bond Junior novel. Both could write in the third person, casually jump into the first person, and then back into the third – all within the same book. More interesting, though, were the sentences that seemed copied from one another:

`You like drawing?` (she pronounced it `draw-rin`.`) [James Bond Junior, Chapter 6]
`We will not hold a seance to-day,` (He pronounced the word sea-ants). [Plomer`s 1932 novel, The Case Is Altered, Chapter 10]
`I see you`re a sceptic,` said Mrs Trubshore clairvoyantly, but with a slight Australian accent. (She pronounced the word `septic`.)` [The Case Is Altered, Chapter 18]
The lady of Hazeley Hall was a Mrs Frame, a large *tottery*, grand woman, who kept herself up with a silver-handled ebony stick. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 1]
When she went out, Miss Haymer used a stick with a rubber end, and *tottered* along on heels that were rather too high, supporting, like some caryatid, a large, old-fashioned hat, decorated with a bird or two and some fruit, as in her heyday. [The Case Is Altered, Chapter 2]
She had long light lashes, like a cow`s. But her greeny-yellow eyes were like a cat`s. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 2]
The eyes, between dark lids and pouches, seemed as cold as a parrot`s and as malicious as a crocodile`s; [The Case Is Altered, Chapter 2]
Plomer and Mascott also shared the same impish humour. In Plomer`s 1952 novel Museum Pieces, a character describes chattering Indians as `much Urdu about nothing.` Plomer also described `a near miss` in a Naval blockade during WWII as `une demi-vierge` (`a half virgin`). Compare these to:

This made them giggle even more, as they explained it all to James, each trying to outdo the other in reproducing parodies of the Head`s exact words about `the riggers of Justice` and `Law an` Dorder.` (Someone suggested that it was really a girl friend of Old Hignett`s, Loren d`Auder.) [James Bond Junior, Chapter 7]
In James Bond Junior, Les Bottome (try pronouncing it in French) writes for the Daily Clarion. At one point James Bond Junior has to wipe himself with back issues of the Daily Clarion because there`s no toilet paper.

Both Mascott and Plomer would insert parenthetical comments. Also, but probably irrelevant, the French word `ardu`, pronounced `ar-dee` – RD – means hard work, an uphill battle. Plomer once used the pseudonym William D`Arfey. Fleming, in a way, considered Plomer his mascot. Plomer`s first novel was Turbott Wolfe. Both `Turbott` and `Mascott` are normally spelt with one `t`. All reasonable guesses, but numerous differences still separated the two authors. Back to the drawing board.

Alan Ross was another possibility; a published poet and literary editor, he also wrote children`s novels. His 1965 children`s novel The Wreck Of Moni covered similar ground as James Bond Junior: gold, German villains, poisoned dogs, children having council of war sessions, disputing property with adults, violent dogs; both books have quick conclusions explaining that the villains were convicted, etc. In fact, the two stories have much in common. Even when there are differences, there are parallels. James Bond Junior begins with a father and his wife going on vacation; Moni begins with father and family arriving on their vacation. Like Plomer, Ross even lived in the South Downs which is a stone`s throw from where the James Bond Junior novel is set. Ross`s writing however was much drier than Mascott`s. Noticeably so.

Somebody on a newsgroup said that `James Bond Junior` himself was supposedly a clue, which automatically suggested Ian Fleming`s nephew Nichol Fleming (Peter`s son and also a writer), though his prose was slicker and somewhat glib. There was also sufficient reason to believe that Mascott was considerably older than the twenty-eight year old Nichol Fleming. Ian Fleming`s brother Peter would have seemed a likely choice except that his writing style is so clearly unlike Mascott`s. What about Hugo Charteris? (Ann Fleming`s brother and Ian Fleming`s brother-in-law.) The writing styles weren`t particularly close – Charteris could never be called a light-hearted writer – but it wasn`t as bad a match as some other possibilities. Alas, I spoke to his widow Virginia and she knew nothing about the book. There`s no reason to believe that he would have written such a book and not told her. (Incidentally, this exercise has given me the chance to read many of the writers in the Fleming family and circle of acquaintance. I`d strongly recommend those wishing to expand their reading do the same.)

I had what seemed to be a major breakthrough one night. When drowsily glancing at the book, I noticed this paragraph:

She had given James the run of the bothy for his own place. She was the one person who hadn`t made fun of his being James Bond`s nephew. (James`s housemaster insisted on the joke of calling him 003 1/2, ha! ha!)
-and wondered, Who was Caspar Fleming`s housemaster?

Caspar Fleming`s housemaster at Eton was the Rev Robert David Fergusson Wild, also known as RD Wild who, by the way, was a published author. Going from `Wild` to `Mascott` isn`t too great a leap. One of my colleagues, Matt Sherman, found this a particularly striking coincidence and said that the word mascott automatically suggested a school. I tracked down the Rev Wild`s widow, but alas, it was a red herring (or, if you like bad puns, a wild goose chase). Mary Wild was quite forthcoming; her husband considered Caspar Fleming a very unusual boy, but no, she had never heard of the book. Those who`ve read his one published book – I haven`t – Prisoner of Hope say the writing styles are too dissimilar. Strikingly so.

And there it remained until I happened upon an old copy of the British book trade magazine The Bookseller (July 22nd, 1967, to be precise) while researching something else. In a typical publisher`s advertisement (hundreds litter each issue) Jonathan Cape announced the October 24th release of The Adventures of James Bond Junior – 003 1/2, by R.D. Mascott. What made the ad particularly interesting was the blurb that mentioned that `Harry Saltzman plans to make a series of television films based on the book.` Did Saltzman buy the rights before the book was published, or had he been given them? Was Albert R Broccoli involved?

John Parkinson, EON Vice-President, told me that `Glidrose made the initial agreement for the writing of the book as a work-for-hire and there was [an] undertaking at that time [that] the name of the author would be kept secret. That continues to the present day. The film rights and all other rights to The Adventures of James Bond Junior – 003 1/2 are held by Eon Productions Ltd. The animated series of James Bond Junior produced in 1991 was based on that book.`

Broccoli and Saltzman had just finished making You Only Live Twice and Broccoli was then filming Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Roald Dahl wrote both films. Is it possible that Saltzman, worried that Broccoli was onto another money-making scheme without him thought he`d get his own Dahl-Fleming project off the ground that would outdo Broccoli?

Sharp readers will remember that I said at the outset that Dahl didn`t seem a likely author. That was until I read his short story The Swan, which appeared in his `Henry Sugar` collection. The writing is much closer than in Dahl`s other works. So is the sadism. Dahl and Mascott share certain habits, ways of describing things, and both even imitate `lower-class` accents. Peter Watson`s way of thinking things through in the Dahl story is not unlike James Bond Junior`s. Both authors clearly love animals, yet describe violent acts against animals in loving detail. I`ve not read that many children`s books, but both works seem unusually and almost sadistically violent. What other writer could get away with this? Other details blend in with Dahl`s life: Dahl was a pilot, so is David Bond. The Bond parents fly to Dar-es-Salaam, which is where Dahl lived and worked shortly before WWII.

Yet once again I came against the `secrecy veil`. He wrote a James Bond film. Why wouldn`t he want it known that he wrote a James Bond children`s book? Why would his estate still conceal his identity 11 years after his death if it were him? (Mind you, his estate doesn`t have the copyright or presumably the profits. Glidrose would.) However, neither his estate or his family had ever heard of the book.

Running out of names (and patience), I needed a list of literary writers who couldn`t be considered stylists; those who also wrote children`s books; and those from the Kent/Sussex area (or neighbouring Home Counties). (It was either that or putting an ad in The Bookseller asking, `Did you or anybody you know write books during the 1960`s? If so you could be RD Mascott!`. The mind boggles at how many writers there are.) Luckily I hooked up with Chris Willis, a pre-graduate instructor and excellent professional researcher, who herself remembered and enjoyed the book.

I considered other possibilities. A rumour had circulated at the time that Mascott might have been Graham Greene, whose nephew, Graham Carleton Greene, published the James Bond Junior novel. Robert Liddell was born and raised in Tunbridge near where the story occurs; he subsequently lived in Africa (Mascott emphasizes people living in or travelling to Africa), and lived in Greece when Amis visited for Colonel Sun… yet the writing didn`t match. (My first thought – a politically incorrect one, though I didn`t know it at the time – while reading his 1987 novel The Aunts was, `What fruity sludge!` Just thinking about the book makes my mouth pucker like I`ve got an exorbitantly ripe sweet in there and can`t figure how to get it out discreetly. His novel Unreal City shows more restraint and is considered his best for good reason.)

Mascott wrote intelligent, yet unpolished prose. Was it William Golding? A subsequent Nobel Prize winner wouldn`t have gotten so far if the judges knew he`d written a children`s novel about James Bond`s nephew. But no. Golding`s reputation remains intact, which is more than I can say about his extraordinarily unpolished and prolix prose.

A news-cutting in Chapter 20 of Michael Underwood`s novel A Compelling Case resembles one in the James Bond Junior novel, but nothing else triggered my interest in what he wrote (either as a suspect or an author).

I considered Glidrose chairman Peter Janson-Smith`s other clients: Anthony Burgess, Cyril Northcote Parkinson (rather apprehensively; those truly awful Patrick O`Brien books have inoculated me against all historical sea adventures), Gavin Maxwell, Georgette Heyer, Bruce Marshall, Shena MacKay, though I drew the line at Jerzy Kosinski, best known for Being There, and some Latin American writer Janson-Smith represented (whose name and exact nationality escape me). I even considered Janson-Smith himself: he and his second wife Celina Wieniewska translated the Dutch novel Ciske the Rat (1958). I`m guessing that Janson-Smith would have known only a smattering of any foreign language and therefore presumably concentrated on the translation`s style, which is slick.

I considered, then rejected, other possibilities: Peter Quennell, Gerald Durrell, Melvyn Bragg, George MacBeth, C Day Lewis, Lionel Davidson, Simon Raven (who polished the OHMSS script), Len Deighton, Robert Gittings, Donald McCormick (a.k.a. Richard Deacon), Michael Howard, Ivar Bryce. I considered, then rejected, Joan Aiken and other established children`s writers from the 1950`s and 60`s.

Possibility-after-possibility fell off my list until I found myself staring at a copy of the now little-known author Arthur Calder-Marshall`s 1961 novel The Scarlet Boy. I opened the book at random to an early page and saw this:

As he stood there as patient as a Great Dane listening to the yapping of a Pomeranian, he gently lowered one eyelid in a slow motion wink at me. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 1]
An alarm went off in my head. Compare it to:

In the doorway stood a huge man. He towered over Nobby like a Great Dane over a Dachshund. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 5]
Coincidence? I considered RD Mascott`s pseudonym and groaned at what seems to be a truly awful pun:

RD = Artie = Arthur

I continued reading and found other similarities. By themselves, some mean little, but when viewed together…

Example 2:

Suddenly she looked round. She had long light lashes, like a cow`s. But her greeny-yellow eyes were like a cat`s. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 2]
I was conscious only of two greeny-yellow eyes which appeared to be focused at the back of my brain. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 3]
Her beauty, too, was like a gypsy`s, her unpainted face achieving beauty by the clear curve of the jaw, the arching nostrils, the high broad cheekbones and the sharp, catlike eyes. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
Blonde, gypsy-eyed Katharine Smith[.] [James Bond Junior, Chapter 26]
Example 3:

Three years before, Captain Bond had inherited Monkshill from his father. […] It was the first `home` that James had ever had. Before then they had lived in a succession of furnished flats, houses and hotels. […] But as Captain Bond said, `Beacon Hill is our bit of God`s earth.` He wanted the family to strike its roots there. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 1]
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My father was possessed of a restless spirit which took him abroad for years at a time and sent his family posting from one furnished house to another. He was, he was fond of saying, a modern Ishmael; and in the fifteen years of my life before he bought my grandfather`s house at Steyning, we had lived in eleven different houses. It was an interesting experience, because the home life of our landlords, revealed by diaries, letters and even account-books, provided us with vicarious enjoyments denied to children in more settled homes. / My father`s decision to buy his own house marked a new phase in his development. The time had come to settle down. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
Example 4:

James knew what his father meant. He had wandered exploring for miles around. He discovered the world of nature, a pulsing, secret world ignored by people who sit in cars and planes. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 1]
I was very sorry to have left that particular part of the South Downs as it was the only part of the earth which I had ever come to know with intimacy. It had taught me what the love of countryside could mean to those who have always had one place which they can consider their own. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 10]
Example 5:

Beacon Hill, on the Kent-Sussex border, was not very convenient for Gatwick Airport from which Captain Bond flew his VC10s: and Monkshill itself was tiny, a cottage with a little garden. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 1]
But his choice of Steyning was unfortunate, because his business and my school were in London; and the seclusion which made it a heaven for week-ends and holidays made it hell for week-days. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
Example 6:

`For crying out loud, is there another boy in the whole of England, given the chance to spend a week in Dar-es-Salaam, who`d say `Don`t want to!` At James`s age I`d`ve leapt at it.` Captain Bond drew angrily on his pipe, which had gone out. Then looking for sympathy he turned his gaze from the ungrateful James to his wife. […] Mrs Bond said, `I think James means that it would be as boring playing with his young cousins in Dar-es-Salaam, as you found it with yours in Southampton.` [James Bond Junior, Chapter 1]
There were no Grantley relatives to succeed me, but on my mother`s side there was Harry Waybridge, the young cousin with whom I had played so unsuccessfully at Deal. […] He was married for a second time and was farming in Tanganyika [in East Africa where Dar-es-Salaam is located]. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 4]
`Well, next week I`m going out to East Africa to defend N`gozi. It`ll be in all the newspapers and the proper cretins will think that I`ve been given a whacking great fee.` [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 5]
Example 7:

Sir Cuthbert`s voice made James start. Grinning through the driver`s window was the foxy face with little tufts of hair high on the cheekbones, like a pair of spare eyebrows. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 14]
Behind the bar was a peroxide blonde who pulled beer dreamily as she conversed with a red foxy-faced man sitting on a stool. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
Example 8:

Donal ran over, pouring out torrents of foul abuse such as James had never heard in his life before. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 16]
Within the ring of spectators the women fought with self-absorption. There might have been no one within miles for all the notice they took. But when at last a large man, as burly as a policeman and as fumblingly officious, tried to separate them with an “Ere, `ere, you can`t do that, yer know!` they instantly stopped fighting one another and rounded on him for not minding his own business with a torrent of abuse that amounted almost to physical violence. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
Example 9:

`Don`t be an ass!` He ran down the stairs with Sheelagh some way behind him. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 18]
`Don`t be an ass.` [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 6]
Example 10:

He tripped and fell forward, throwing out his hands. […] As he turned to run, he saw the dog swerve in mid-air, then suddenly it was as if a hundred red-hot needles had been driven up his leg from his ankle. His foot was caught in a rabbit hole. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 21]
Then I tripped and fell face forward in the grass; and as I lay winded, testing my twisted ankle, a thought came to me which converted joy to terror. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 3]
Example 11:

There would be no chance that Squirrel Joram or any of the others whom Mrs Frame had allowed to play in Hazeley would discover it. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 2]
Tom Blaze the drove and Squirrel his son, hollering and belting their flanks with ash-sticks to bolt them up the cut[.] [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 1]
Example 12:

James`s housemaster insisted on the joke of calling him 003 1/2, ha! ha! [James Bond Junior, Chapter 1]
`I must make a notch on my recording stick, ha! ha!` [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 1]
As tea had already been laid outside, it was agreed that the loggia was a perfect idea and John Scarlet proposed that we should `make a tour of the estate, ha! ha!` while his sister made the tea. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 11]
Example 13:

There was furious barking. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 5]
Suddenly I heard a furious barking and saw hopping through the tangled grass and weeds a rat, so slow and clumsy that I thought it must be pregnant, as Frisk herself was. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 3]
Example 14:

It was Miss Hubbard`s Ford Anglia. [James Bond Junior, Chapter 9]
Punctually at five forty-five a new Ford Anglia stopped in front of the door and a couple of minutes later Mrs Ambrose showed in the Schroeders, Miriam advancing quickly first, her husband lagging sensitively behind. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 4]
(Characters in both novels also drive Jaguars.)

Example 15:

He pretended to strip off his mitt and thrust out his hand. `How de, pard. Good trappin`?` It was an old routine of theirs. James stamped on the ground, as if to get the circulation going in his frostbitten feet. `Mush!` he growled. `Mush too mush[.] Mush!` [James Bond Junior, Chapter 7]
[A]nd my mother declared that if it had been Alaska, he could have sported snowshoes, a parka and fur-mitts and cried `Mush! Mush!` to the porter. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 10]
(Calder-Marshall had just written a biography of Robert Flaherty, the filmmaker who shot Nanook of the North on location in Alaska and the Yukon.)

Example 16:

`An` I s`pose you`ve been wanderin` all over, with them Alsatians lickin` yer hands,` Squirrel said. `I s`pose the place isn`t surrounded with a whacking great fence and barbed wire on top.` [James Bond Junior, Chapter 19]
`People are very lonely. I s`pose, lonelier than they`ve ever been – with all this globe-trottin`. Ships that pass in the night, yer know.` [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 11]
There are also plot similarities: in James Bond Junior, Mrs Frame, an elderly woman, whose grandson was killed, gives gifts to James Bond Junior and stores them in her bothy, where he has the key to visit any time he chooses. In The Scarlet Boy, Helen Scarlet`s son is killed; she gives gifts to young George Grantley which she stores in her house, which he`s allowed to visit whenever he likes, and shows him where the key is kept. Scenes involving elderly housemaids – Mrs Ambrose in The Scarlet Boy, and Mrs Raggles in James Bond Junior – are fairly similar. Both books hinge on purchasing a nearby house and the strange goings-on there. Both books feature a troubled female child who draws, and moreover, what she draws is a crucial plot point that resolves each story`s central mystery. Both books feature scenes between children high up in trees; and in both books, the troubled girls` puppies are killed.

Mascott and Calder-Marshall were both natural talents at characterization, especially small-town life, which is one of the James Bond Junior novel`s strengths. Both shared the same impish sense of humour:

And yet the street in which we lived was, for the most part, as quiet as a country lane, being frequented at this hour by lap- and house-dogs taking their masters or their servants for an airing before putting them to bed. These silent men, like prisoners so long incarcerated that even the brief period of exercise no longer gave them pleasure, stood chained to their animals under street-lamps or at the base of plane trees, glancing listlessly once or twice at the carnival roistering past the far end of the street, but as if it was a world from which they were forever separated; at the least tug of the leash they would move eagerly on in the direction of their cells. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
Both men were philosophical:

Many children brought up in the atmosphere of immoderation long for restraint at an price. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
And I have learnt by now that these things never turn out as one anticipates. There is always some twist which makes even the expected strange, the dreaded welcome, the ambition fruitless and the weakness strength. [The Scarlet Boy, Chapter 18]
Passages even resemble James Bond Junior`s terse style:

Someone went in. Inside looked smoky and crowded. Someone came out. No one was singing or fighting. It was better to be snubbed by a stranger than laughed at by a brother. I pushed open the door. [The Magic of My Youth, Chapter 4]
When rating Mascott similarities on a scale from 0 to 100, Kingsley Amis, Mickey Spillane, Jack Kerouac, Virginia Woolf, and the author of `Penthouse Forum` rate a `0` while Mascott (obviously) scores `100`. Calder-Marshall`s novel The Scarlet Boy scores around 66% – which is approximately 20% higher than anybody else.

So who is Arthur-Calder Marshall?

He was born August 19th, 1908 in Surrey, and was raised in Sussex, near where the James Bond Junior novel is set.

He attended St Paul`s grammar school, and went on to Hertford College, where he eventually edited the undergraduate magazine Oxford Outlook. He was almost expelled after being falsely accused of celebrating a Black Mass. He graduated with a BA from Hertford College in 1930.

Reviewers praised Calder-Marshall`s first novel, Two of a Kind, citing his `talent for graphic description and understanding of the emotion underlying apparently irrational conduct,` though others have chosen to remember the novel for its supposedly hidden obscenity: `They came, together.` This novel, a love story, was about a honeymoon couple`s ordeal after they had been swept out to sea in a small boat. The early to mid 1930`s were a flurry of activity for Calder-Marshall as he published novels, stories and even criticism; in fact, it was Calder-Marshall who coined the term `Greeneland` to describe certain elements in Graham Greene`s novels. Calder-Marshall`s fifth novel, Pie in the Sky, established his reputation. The novel, set in a midlands mill town, involved a large cast of characters in a story about emotional and industrial conflict.

He married Violet Nancy Sale in 1934. They had two daughters, one of whom is the actress Anna Calder-Marshall, who co-starred with Timothy Dalton in the 1970 remake of Wuthering Heights; his other daughter, Clare, runs an Art Gallery.

Calder-Marshall moved to Hollywood and wrote scripts for MGM in the late 1930`s; he was to develop a love-hate relationship with the industry and often complained that the studios paid him more not to write. During the war he joined British Petroleum, and then served in the British Ministry of Information (film division).

Orson Welles had intended to direct and co-star (with Dolores Del Rio) in a film adaptation of Calder-Marshall`s political thriller The Way to Santiago. Welles had finished the script by February 1941, but RKO balked after Citizen Kane`s poor reception. In Welles`s version, an amnesiac resembling a charismatic fascist radio commentator/host becomes a pawn in a political power play. The amnesiac subsequently defeats the fascist radio host, taking over his radio station in the jungle and delivers a warning broadcast.

Calder-Marshall also wrote the story for Alfred Hitchcock`s short twenty-five minute WWII film Bon Voyage, which was `about the shifting moralities of the French Resistance.` According to Donald Spotto, `Hitchcock very rightly worried whether, with a murder committed by one of the characters who was supposed to be a hero, it would ever be shown in France. It never was.` The film, which had been shot quickly, was `shipped out to a disappointed French distributor, who shelved [it] at once.`

Calder-Marshall had more luck with his script for the Academy Award nominated documentary The World is Rich (1946).

Calder-Marshall concentrated on non-fiction after war, especially biographies and editing collected editions of other writers` work. During 1960`s he edited the collected works of Jack London for Bodley Head, whose chairman, Graham Carleton Greene, was managing director of Jonathan Cape around the time of the James Bond Junior novel. No Earthly Command, the story of Vice Admiral Alexander Riall Wadham Wood, is probably Calder-Marshall`s best remembered non-fiction work; Wood entered theological college in 1931 when he was 51, and died aged seventy-four, `a poor parson in London`s East End`. John Betjeman in the Daily Telegraph wrote, `Arthur Calder-Marshall has always written lucidly and readably. However dated and unreadable some prose-writers may become who seem to us elegant or contemporary-tough today, he will remain fresh and clear… I think this is the best book even he has written and the best book I have read for a long time.`

Other non-fiction work included The Innocent Eye, his biography of film director Robert Flaherty; and Sage of Sex, about Havelock Ellis. Calder-Marshall also edited and introduced Prepare to Shed Them Now: The Ballads of George R Sims.

Calder-Marshall`s two best remembered novels remain The Fair to Middling, about `a travelling show that brings magic to a small town`, in particular `the patron, staff and pupils of the Alderman Winterbottome`s School for Incapacitated Orphans, such as the facially-disfigured music teacher and her talented but partially-sighted pupil` who learn that they would have accomplished far less in their lives had they been `normal`; and The Scarlet Boy, an initially light-hearted haunted house story, with a twist that anticipated the motion picture The Sixth Sense. Cyril Connolly praised the novel, writing: `A variation on the theme of the Turn of the Screw in the manner of Graham Greene with an olive from the Cocktail Party and a dash of Dashiel Hammett.`

Calder-Marshall remained a well-known and well-regarded literary figure who unfortunately never quite broke into the front ranks. Critics noticed the similarities between his work and the far more famous Graham Greene, though Calder-Marshall is in some respects perhaps the better of the two. Calder-Marshall acquaintances included Greene, George Orwell, Malcolm Lowery, and even the legendary Alastair Crowley.

He died April 17th, 1992, several months after the much-maligned `James Bond Junior` cartoon series debuted.

NOVELS: 1933 Two of a Kind 1933 About Levy 1934 At Sea 1935 Dead Centre 1937 Pie in the Sky 1940 The Way to Santiago 1949 A Man Reprieved 1955 Occasion of Glory 1961 The Scarlet Boy

STORIES: 1934 Crime Against Cania 1935 A Pink Doll 1937 A Date with a Duchess

FOR CHILDREN: 1958 The Man from Devil`s Island 1959 The Fair to Middling 1963 Lone Wolf: The Story of Jack London

Oh yes, and…

1967 The Adventures of James Bond Junior – 003 1/2 (as `R.D. Mascott`)

NOVELIZATIONS (as `William Drummond`): 1960 Midnight Lace 1961 Victim 1962 Life For Ruth 1964 Night Must Fall 1966 Gaslight

PLAY: 1965 Season of Goodwill (based on `Every Third Thought` by Dorothea Malm)

MEMOIRS: 1951 The Magic of My Youth

Though I`ve (presumably) solved this mystery, one question still remains… how could anybody have thought it was Kingsley Amis?

Anybody want to throw in their two cents? Let me know at nickkincaid@bigfoot.com.

Do you think you know all of the James Bond books? Think again! In 1985 an author named Jim Hatfield wrote and published a complete James Bond novel entitled “The Killing Zone” that has gone unnoticed until now. For the first time on the `Net 007Forever has brought the most obscure 007 novel to light and has attempted to answer some of the questions surrounding the origins of this strange Bondian adventure.

What is intriguing about The Killing Zone is that it is neither spoof nor parody. It is a real, 100% James Bond novel. In fact it is even better than quite a few of the John Gardner novels. So where did it come from?

A noteworthy James Bond collector unearthed the only known copy then thought to be in existence at a Texas book show. The Killing Zone was a paperback edition that looked professional but had suspicious markings. The cover has “The Killing Zone” in large generic letters with blood spots here and there. There is a small logo on top with the Roger Moore-James Bond silhouette used in the For Your Eyes Only posters. (See photo accompanying this story.) Aside from that, there are no Bond specific markings. The font and layout of the cover suggests a meticulous publishing job, however.

“For Your Eyes Only”
How did this book escape the attention of the Bond fan community until recently? The answer is simple. The Killing Zone is totally illegal and was never released as a real book. The Killing Zone is a bootleg Bond novel not approved by Glidrose Publications, the literary copyright holder to the James Bond character. In the 1980`s, John Gardner was the official Glidrose author, who went on to write 16 different James Bond adventures. The acknowledgement section of “Zone” mentions Glidrose as if it was an official James Bond novel but this is merely cheek on the author`s part. Glidrose had nothing to do with this book. They did not commission it nor do they sanction its existence.

“Secret Mission”
The Killing Zone`s Bond narrative is deadly serious and fits surprisingly into the Bond legacy, very reminiscent of Bond XVI, “License To Kill”. A German-South American drug lord, “Klaus Doberman” has executed Bond`s pal Bill Tanner in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Tanner was there coordinating British Secret Service efforts to slow the illicit drug trade to Europe and the Americas. Tanner`s sudden, violent death prompts M himself to travel to the Virgin Islands to coax James Bond out of retirement (ala “Never Say Never Again”). M wants Bond to pursue Doberman and avenge Tanner`s demise. Over a Fleming-styled dinner, M presents Bond with Doberman`s dossier. Doberman is a German homosexual, a brutal sadist who wears a patch over one dead eye below a coif of long blonde hair. Bond immediately dislikes what he learns and accepts the mission to take vengeance for his friend. Afterwards M comments, “the bastard`s back.”

Arriving in Puerto Vallarta, Bond and his tricked out Porsche Gamballa soon hooks up with his longtime partner Felix Leiter plus an adventurous local named “Lotta Head.” (Good grief!) Lotta is the daughter of the proprietor of Bond`s hotel, a blonde and voluptuous American willing to help Bond in any manner needed! (Her piquant name draws disbelief from even Bond. Lotta explains that her father wanted to remember the wild night she was conceived and so chose the name.) With his “dream team” in tow, Bond sets out to track down and utterly destroy Klaus Doberman and his organization. Further complicating matters are the arrival of Soviet KGB General Gogol and KGB Agent Anya Amasova! Both are in Mexico for a meeting with Doberman. It turns out that Doberman is financed by the Soviets to help destabilize fragile democracies in the Caribbean and Central America through the distribution of cocaine and general mayhem. Bond also discovers that Doberman owns a palatial seaside estate outside Puerto Vallarta. Doberman also has a luxury boat named “The Buenaventura.” His head of security is a sinister ninja named Fuji Chen, a veteran of prior encounters with 007.

The hunt is on and Bond and company set out after their prey. After numerous chases, ambushes and a fiery attack on Doberman`s fortress, the enemy and his empire are destroyed, again reminiscent of License To Kill, filmed a few short years later. Bond and Lotta plan to “recoup” together in Acapulco.

“Warning: Incredible Spoilers Ahead!” You may not be likely to read this unbelievably rare tome, but if you don`t want to know the shocking ending, skip down several paragraphs to the section entitled, “License Revoked”.

After Doberman and his evil machine are demolished, Fuji Chen is still around. Ambushing Bond in Lotta`s hotel room, he succeeds in garroting 007. Bond`s final act on earth is to fatally stab Chen in the chest…cut to the submarine “HMS Reliant” where M presides over James Bond`s funeral! Bond`s body is placed in a torpedo shell and launched deep under the Atlantic to the mournful strains of Scottish bagpipe music. And you thought On Her Majesty`s Secret Service had a moody ending! Even though it is totally wrong for a Bond story, Bond`s funeral scene is quite interesting. M quotes Charles Dickens` last analysis from “A Tale of Two Cities” over Bond`s casket. “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” This scene seems to almost a graft from a film; there are many parallels to Captain Spock`s funeral scene in “Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan”. In any event, the funeral scene here is a strange ending for the strangest James Bond book that you will probably never read.

The ending of The Killing Zone underscores the renegade nature of the entire book. There is no way conceivable that an official Bond book, or film for that matter, would ever kill off James Bond. So why does Jim Hatfield do it?

“License Revoked?”
When this book was unearthed, some speculated that Glidrose commissioned The Killing Zone but chose not to publish it. To spite them, Hatfield may have published the novel himself. Keep in mind that between 1981 and 1996, one official John Gardner Glidrose book appeared each year, except in 1985, around the time of The Killing Zone`s release. (Mr. Gardner did not make his expected release date for 1985 due to some difficult times the Gardner family experienced.) It may be circumstantial or apocryphal, but in the end, Glidrose did not commission `Zone`.

“A License to Film?”
Perhaps “Zone” was a film treatment commissioned by Eon, which Jim Hatfield turned to a book when the producers passed. Remember in 1984 (the time that the setting of the book takes place) that Mexico was rumored to be the location for the film which became “A View To A Kill”. Many Zone action sequences feel like setpieces for a film. In particular, the dramatic climax has Bond dangling by a rope from the villain`s one-man helicopter as Doberman attempts escape. This is very similar to the climax of both “Octopussy” and A View To A Kill, films released around the time of the book`s composition. But this again is speculation. Maybe this was just a book written on spec?

“A Tip of the Hatfield”
So who is Jim Hatfield anyway? There is actually a very interesting story behind this man. It turns out Jim Hatfield is an ex-con, who has done time in three different states, including a stint in prison for trying to kill his boss with a car bomb! But the intrigue doesn`t end there. Mr. Hatfield went on to write the provocative book, “Fortunate Son: George W. Bush and the Making of an American President”. In his book, Hatfield alleges that Republican Presidential frontrunner George W. Bush was arrested in 1972 for possession of cocaine, which was subsequently covered up by his famous father. St. Martin`s Press halted further publication of the book and then ordered a recall when word of Hatfield`s felonious past caught up to him!

Besides the car bombing conviction, Hatfield was separately convicted of embezzlement. Federal court records reveal that Jim Hatfield pleaded guilty in 1992 to swindling thousands of dollars in federal housing money…a case in which his intended bombing victim was a witness. Court records reveal that in 1988 Hatfield was sentenced to 15 years in prison after he admitted he paid a hit man $5,000 to explode his former boss`s car in February 1987. While in prison, he pleaded guilty to one count of “making a false statement in federal paperwork” and had five additional years tacked onto his state sentence. With early-release provisions, Hatfield was paroled to Arkansas in 1994, where he has since written at least five books, including several science-fiction television trivia books and a biography of “Star Trek” actor Patrick Stewart.

Hatfield told fellow employees at the federal housing authority where he worked before his arrest that he had won “a contest to write the next James Bond book” and continue the series started by deceased author Ian Fleming! “Years went by and we never saw the book. We wondered if it was really true,” an acquaintance told Washington Post reporter Kathy Sawyer in her March 19, 2000 expose on Hatfield. Eventually Hatfield delivered his book, printed and bound(The jacket blurb announces: “Bond has his hands full as he battles a lucious [sic] lady assassin. . . . Aided by his sex-galore confederate Lotta Head . . . 007 is pitted against Klaus Doberman in his heavily armed fortress.”) Suspicious co-workers called the publisher. They learned Hatfield had paid to have the work published himself; a vanity piece.

Hatfield now admits to The Washington Post that this was another deception. “I was so overly confident that my work would be selected, I boasted to everybody. When it wasn`t selected, I self-published and sold it to everybody I knew. I really had egg on my face, but nothing compared to now.” Yet he continues to tell people there was a contest when no such contest really existed.
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“You Only Live Twice?”
Whoever he “really” is, however, Jim Hatfield does know his James Bond and what constitutes a solid 007-adventure novel. Bond`s physical description is lifted straight from Mr. Fleming`s work in a delightful way. Bond still wears a Rolex (in gold this time) and is an ultimate connoisseur of fine wines and food. Hatfield`s James Bond is also plagued by recurring memories of his murdered wife Tracy, a nice Fleming holdover. Hatfield does have the knack for Flemingesque detail down. Bond`s cars and weapons are all described down to minute detail. So too is hardware such as Doberman`s yacht The Buenaventura. Its description conjures up Fleming`s memorable description of the “Disco Volante” of “Thunderball”. Hatfield also sneaks in some vintage Fleming detail for the villains. Doberman`s one eye is doll-like (like Benito Mussolini`s) with the whites surrounding the iris. Fuji Chen`s eyes are cold and evil, “like gunbarrels” or just the way Mr. Fleming described Dr. No`s evil eyes.

Hatfield allows annoying American slang to creep into Bond`s character, however, totally wrong for our favorite British agent. Bond would never use American slang like “plug you” for “shoot you” and fifty “bucks”. He also would definitely not give someone “the finger” which he does to Felix Leiter in a moment of jest!

Another game that Jim Hatfield cannot resist is to pepper The Killing Zone with references to Bond films and books. Indicating the time that this book was written, Never Say Never Again is referred to the most. For instance, Bond says that he has been retired from the Secret Service for one year, which would follow on with the events in Never Say Never Again. Our beloved “Q” now works for the CIA, also alluded to in that film.

Further, the bizarre appearance of Anya Amasova and General Gogol is interesting. Anya hints at a past relation with 007 in dialogue but her character is much more sinister that it was in The Spy Who Loved Me. General Gogol mentions that James Bond`s execution is long overdue…but he gets to do little about it before he is sabotaged by Fuji Chen and dies in a fiery helicopter crash.

The Killing Zone is also in sync with John Gardner`s books. Bond wields a Ruger Super .44 Magnum kept under the seat of his Porsche (as in the Saab of Gardner`s novels). There is also a recounting of Bond`s past tortures such as the carpet beater from Casino Royale, the brain probes in Colonel Sun and the ice water torture from Mr. Gardner`s “Icebreaker”. M`s dinner with Bond on St. Thomas echoes dialogue from Gardner`s first Bond opus, “Licence Renewed”. M tells Bond that he is a blunt instrument for Her Majesty`s government. Hatfield tips his hat to even John Pearson by having Bond retired on St. Thomas. This was mentioned in Pearson`s biography of 007.

Even more puzzling is the direct lifting of dialogue from the 007 films. When Doberman meets with his associates, he uses the exact same speech that Blofeld did in Never Say Never Again when he briefed S.P.E.C.T.R.E.`s board of directors. When Bond confronts a Mafia chieftain on Doberman`s whereabouts, the mobster don mocks Bond with the exact same lines that Scaramanga used in The Man With the Golden Gun. He says that Bond is a killer who “works for peanuts and a hearty well done from Her Majesty”. General Gogol even gets to recycle some of his own dialogue from Octopussy and A View To A Kill!

Why does Hatfield do this? He is obviously capable of writing a first class Bond adventure that does not need to rely on any gimmicks. Are all the references a homage to the books and films? Or is it an elaborate game to please hardcore Bond fans? Like the book itself, it is another part of the riddle.

In hindsight its interesting to see how many themes and ideas from The Killing Zone made it into subsequent Bond films. There is a character named Huggins in The Killing Zone whom Bond encounters. Huggins is a former MI6 agent gone bad who was scarred by Bond in a previous run-in…Alec Trevelyan`s “006,” anyone? Perhaps there is little direct connection between The Killing Zone, Licence To Kill and Goldeneye but it is interesting to note the coincidences.

“Death Leaves an Echo”
In the end though, The Killing Zone is a major romp for any 007 fan. The action sequences are stunning. Standouts include a cat and mouse game between Bond and KGB agents in the Mexican desert and a bravura sequence involving a remote controlled boat used by Bond and Leiter to decoy the guards at Doberman`s seaside fortress. Klaus Doberman and Lotta Head are serviceable characters but not compelling. Not much is made of Doberman`s homosexuality which could have been put to more interesting use. Doberman does have a great scene where he is eating rare steak and blood oozes down his chin. Lotta uses her body to help her and Bond get out of some tight spots. Felix Leiter is put to very good use. Much better in fact than most of the recent Bond films and novels where Leiter`s appearance is more of a cameo…and Mr. Hatfield has not forgotten that the Felix of the books is missing certain key appendages.

“On Her Majesty`s Secret Collection”
In sum, lucky Bond novel hunters may someday see, on the farthest corner of dusty bookstore shelving, a strange little paperback composed of 251 of the wildest pages you may ever read in the James Bond “saga”.

Written by: Greg Bechtloff The Las Vegas Review-Journal, Dallas Morning News, The Independent, Matt Sherman and Nicholas Kincaid all contributed to this article.

**Hatfield commits suicide:

Police said Hatfield, 43, died of an apparent drug overdose. His body was found by a maid Wednesday, July 18, 2001, the day after he checked into the motel in Springdale, near his native Bentonville and about 200 miles northwest of Little Rock.

Detective Sgt. Mike Shriver of the Springdale Police Department said there was no question it was a suicide.

“He left a note and everything,” Shriver said of Hatfield. ”It’s really cut and dried.”

While it’s no surprise that someone from Arkansas would want to kill themself, Hatfield’s story is an intriguing, though completely ridiculous tale. Let us take you back to the summer of 2000, when Hatfield’s book “Fortunate Son: George W. Bush and the Making of an American President”, was receiving national attention, and 007Forever was the FIRST and ONLY website to expose Mr. Hatfield for what he really was.

When asked who the first post-Fleming Bond novelist was, the average Bondophile would say “Kingsley Amis”. And they`re wrong. 007Forever is proud to present the most information found anywhere in the world about Bond`s “unknown” South African adventure… Per Fine Ounce.

Geoffrey Jenkins, a South African adventure novelist, was a friend of Fleming`s from their newspaper days. Jenkins pressed Fleming to visit South Africa. Apparently Fleming had promised to one day write a Bond novel set in South Africa. Circa 1957, Jenkins wrote an outline for a Bond novel that Fleming thought had great possibilities.

Unfortunately, tragically, details are sketchy – apparently those in the know prefer not to discuss the novel. However this much is known: set in South Africa, it was about the diamond industry in the Rand and involved diamond smuggling, a secret spy escape route through a magic lake named Funduzzi in the Northern Transvaal, towards Mozambique. Gold bicycle chains and baobab wood coffins might have been used as smuggling gimmicks.

Fleming and Jenkins discussed it at length and Fleming had made changes; Fleming was very particular with what he intended to do with the outline, the approach he contemplated. Fleming wrote, “I must know how everything smells, tastes and looks for myself in South Africa.” Twice he was scheduled to visit to do background research, but in both cases, something arose and he postponed it. (Fleming often invited Jenkins to Jamaica, but the latter was unable to go.)

In August 1964, several days before Fleming died, he and Jenkins discussed the project again. Jenkins would be in London shortly and hoped to persuade Fleming to visit South Africa. Fleming had promised to one day write a Bond novel set in South Africa; he had even gone so far as to sketch out the plot [sic], which they had discussed.

On May 4th, 1965, John Pearson, then researching his forthcoming book The Life Of Ian Fleming wrote to Geoffrey Jenkins, asking for the latter`s memories of Fleming. Jenkins wrote back on June 1st, 1965, and mentioned that circa 1957 he had written a Bond outline for Fleming, set in South Africa. Fleming had apparently been very keen and had intended to travel there. Jenkins tried hard to get Fleming out there, and twice Fleming almost did go. On September 24th, 1965, Jenkins wrote back asking after the 25 page Bond plot he had written for Fleming, who had been pretty keen on it. Jenkins had lost his own copy and hoped Pearson could find a copy in Fleming`s papers. On October 1st, 1965, Pearson wrote back saying he would forward a copy. Intriguingly, Pearson suggested that perhaps Jenkins should write the book now. On October 6th, 1965, Jenkins wrote back that he and Fleming had discussed it at length and had made changes. Fleming was very particular with what he intended to do with the outline, the approach he contemplated. Twice he was due to visit South Africa to get his background. Jenkins thought it would be quite a nice tribute to Ian if he, Jenkins, were to write a posthumous Bond novel. On November 3rd, 1965, Pearson wrote back, “I hope that you write that book. Just reading your synopsis through I can understand why Ian got so excited about it, and you can`t possibly allow such magnificent material to go to waste. Gold bicycle chains and baobab wood coffins. What else can the Bond-lover ask for?”

In a letter to Jenkins` publisher William Collins, dated December 11th, 1965, Ann Fleming would apparently meet with Glidrose on December 14th about the outline. Aiken and Charles Tyrrell of Glidrose now wanted the synopsis that Jenkins had originally offered. However, Jenkins became reluctant. He felt a synopsis would be unsatisfactory because the story would change and grow as it progressed. Also, he felt that Ann Fleming`s “inexperienced” eye would be at a disadvantage reading a synopsis. In a letter to William Collins, dated January 2nd, 1966, Jenkins said he hoped to get the go-ahead any time.

From here on in information becomes sketchy.

Jenkins at some point secured Bond film producer Harry Saltzman`s support and threatened to write the novel unless permission was forthcoming. Glidrose reluctantly commissioned the book (probably sometime in the spring/summer of 1966), but deemed the final manuscript unpublishable and suppressed it. If his novel Hunter Killer is anything to go by, Jenkins probably finished the novel in at most several months, ahead of Amis completing Colonel Sun.

Jenkins` 1983 novel, The Unripe Gold, might refer to Per Fine Ounce:

“Maybe one of his famous hunches – and no one could deny that on a famous occasion Major Rive`s hunch had paid off when there had been a James Bond attempt to land a plane upcoast and fly out a parcel of stolen diamonds.” (Chapter 30, page 212, Collins edition)

Biography:

Geoffrey Jenkins was born June 16th, 1920 in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. He followed his father into journalism and became the Johannesburg Star`s representative in Pretoria, the seat of government, in 1949.

In 1947 he won Lord Kemsley`s Commonwealth Scholarship [a.k.a. Imperial Journalistic Scholarship] and went to London as guest sub-editor and worked in turn on the Sunday Times and other Kemsley newspapers, where he met Ian Fleming. The two men became friends and kept in touch. Before returning to South Africa, Jenkins broadcast for the BBC a series of talks based on his adventures in Fleet Street. His first novel, A Twist Of Sand, was published in 1959 and Ian Fleming wrote in the Sunday Times: “Geoffrey Jenkins has the supreme gift of originality… A literate, imaginative first novel in the tradition of high and original adventure.”

In one press article published in The Star (25 May 1971) Jenkins explains his failure to produce a published work during the 5 years following the publication of Hunter Killer (1966) as follows: “I took time off to re-find myself. … I was suffering under what I call the Fleming Syndrome. Ian was a great friend of mine and gave me plenty of encouragement when Twist was launched. I used to look him up whenever I was in London. So I suppose it was natural my writing should drift towards the Bond style and my plots should begin to take on that form. That and an eye on the film rights. I couldn`t shake it off even though I began to loathe the film industry. So I dropped everything and set about reassessing myself.”

In a Sunday Times (1981) interview he describes Ian Fleming as the personification of James Bond and in another Sunday Times interview (1972) he refers to his friendship with Fleming in the late forties as follows: “He was my immediate boss… He had the famous old 4 and a half litre Bentley then. I can remember how he used to look at the clock at about 12.30 and say `Geoffrey, old boy, time for a spot of lunch`. We would never get back until 3 o`clock.” However, Jenkins went to great pains during the 1960`s to make clear that Fleming was NOT Bond.

At one of their last meetings, it seems that Fleming was “collating” memories and experiences in Hong Kong. For a new Bond work? According to Jenkins, a Bondian idea was born during drinks: Fleming had seen a poster for a publisher of religious books in a converted Hong Kong brothel. Interestingly Fleming claimed that the “Bond style” spy-thriller was dead. In London over drinks, they considered making Bond a necrophiliac and conjured up a scenario, which grew more hilarious and censorious as it unravelled. (John Pearson remarked that, “making Bond a necrophile is a typical Ianism.” In fact both regretted that Fleming made such poor use of his rich sense of humour in the novels.)

Nevertheless, age itself does not cause male impotence. Use breathable purified cotton underpants appalachianmagazine.com buy canada levitra rather than tight-fitting chemical fiber underpants.Last but not least, keep good feelings everyday. Quite a large number of males viagra pills for women http://appalachianmagazine.com/author/AppalachianMagazine/page/90/ have started taking coffee to get sexual improvement in their health. Some call it a learner permit; others call it a professional license, in spite of the fact that levitra prescription appalachianmagazine.com is a protected and adequate drug, it is better to consult your doctor first so he may tell you the appropriate treatment for it. Jenkins considered Casino Royale Fleming`s best, and The Spy Who Loved Me one of the least successful.

Jenkins` novels:
A Twist Of Sand [1959]
The Watering Place Of Good Peace [1960, rev 1974]
A Grue Of Ice [1962; US title: The Disappearing Island]
The River Of Diamonds [1964]
Hunter-Killer [1966]
Scend Of The Sea [1971; US title: The Hollow Sea]
A Cleft Of Stars [1973]
A Bridge Of Magpies [1974]
Southtrap [1979]
A Ravel Of Waters [1981]
The Unripe Gold [1983]
Fireprint [1984]
In Harm`s Way [1986]
Hold Back A Shadow [1989]
A Hive Of Dead Men [1991]
A Daystar Of Fear [1994]

Unfilmed screenplay:
The Fifth Paw Of The Lion [1966, Columbia]

Non-fiction:
A Century Of History: The Story Of Potchefstroom [1939, Potchefstroom
Herald; rev 1971, A.A. Balkema]

Non-fiction with his wife Eve Palmer:
The Companion Guide To South Africa [1978]

[Nick Kincaid`s note: try reading Jenkins` novels, especially Scend of the Sea and A Cleft of Stars. Jenkins` novels have a very evocative feel for South Africa, and he is an adventure novelist in the purest sense – which Fleming wasn`t. Jenkins` novels are perpetually fresh. He lacks some of Fleming`s complexities and literary touches, and does tend towards “thick-ear” dialogue, but I think he would have made an interesting Bond novelist. Some people – myself included – consider Per Fine Ounce the “holy grail” among Bond items.]

007Forever is your number one internet source for information about these and other neglected Bond items. Special thanks to Mr. Geoffrey Jenkins, Ann Torlesse of the National English Literary Museum, and Boston University for help with this article.

MORRIS CARGILL, who has died in Jamaica aged 85, was for almost half a century the best-known journalist in the Caribbean; his column in Jamaica`s national newspaper, The Daily Gleaner, was regarded by many as the only accurate account of the state of affairs of the country, and was required reading for politicians and plumbers alike.

Although Cargill delighted above all in pricking pomposity, he did not hold back from giving his own authoritative view. “I know it`s very trendy to admire reggae,” he wrote. “Well, I don`t. I am stubbornly of the opinion that it is fit only for semi-literate tone- deaf morons . . . I wouldn`t dream of using an amplifier to bash people in the street with Beethoven.”

Taken with his other much-aired dislikes – tough steaks, computers, bad English – such attitudes might be thought to be those of a world-weary reactionary. Instead, Cargill was in favour of decriminalising marijuana, loathed racists, had converted to Buddhism and distrusted authority.

“Jamaica and its politicians,” he believed, “are West Indian ramshackle, Mrs Malaprop, Black Mischief and the Mafia all tied up in one parcel.”

Provocative commentary like this divided even the many who admired his writing and brought charges that he was unpatriotic, which he was not. Instead, together with respect for the family, nothing was dearer to him than Jamaica`s future, which he despaired would be destroyed by nationalism. He made it his task to confront any such threat with humour, and fearlessness.

Morris Cargill was born in the parish of St Andrew, Jamaica, on June 10 1914. His ancestors were Scottish Covenanters who had settled in Jamaica in 1666 and over the centuries acquired large plantations. His father was a a partner in the law firm of Cargill, Cargill and Dunn.

Young Morris grew up in Kingston, where his Jamaican nanny kept colds at bay by liberally dosing him with marijuana. He was sent to school locally at Munro College, although in practice he spent much of his time on his uncles` plantations, and then at 13 was dispatched to Stowe, in Buckinghamshire. From there he would return home only for the summer holidays, making the journey by banana boat.

Cargill decided to follow his father into the law, and in 1937 was admitted a solicitor in Jamaica. But he soon decided this was not for him, and became instead the manager of the Carib Theatre, a cinema in Kingston.

In 1941, he and his wife Barbara sailed for England to make their contribution to the war effort. Cargill worked first for the Ministry of Information and then as business manager of the Crown Film Unit. He also broadcast occasionally on the BBC.

After the war, he went into business for himself, importing Jamaican rum and a coffee-based liqueur he had had made up to his Aunt Mary`s recipe. This latter venture was not at first a success, and so Cargill sold his rights to Tia Maria. He fared better with his interests in steel and plastics.

Cargill returned home in 1949 and once more changed career, buying a 720-acre banana plantation, Charlottenburgh, in St Mary. He gradually modernised the cabins of his plantation workers, and valiantly tried to introduce birth control.

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Farming in Jamaica, said Cargill, was a mixture of running an institution for delinquents and being both medical orderly and magistrate. His labourers trusted him to settle all their disputes rather than go to court.

He kept up his interest in journalism and broadcasting and in 1952 began to write a daily column in the Gleaner under the name “Sam White”. Soon his opinions were being read all over the West Indies. Then in 1958 he was, somewhat against his better judgment, elected to the short-lived Parliament of the West Indies Federation as the member for St Mary.

This meant moving to Trinidad, where, while serving as Deputy Leader of the Opposition, he also edited the Port of Spain Gazette. He felt under-employed, however, and in 1963 resigned to return to Jamaica, where he resumed both farming and writing his column.

His friends and neighbours in St Mary included Noel Coward and Ian Fleming, who had James Bond seek information about Jamaica from Cargill in two of his books, Dr No and Octopussy. But by the 1970s, danger had began to enter Cargill`s life off the page. He was badly wounded by a man attempting to rob his house and then, with the advent of Michael Manley`s socialist government, was three times threatened with prosecution for criticising the Prime Minister in his column.

A campaign to drive Cargill out of Jamaica now began. The last straw came when the water to his plantation was cut off and he was forced to sell Charlottenburgh. He took a publishing job in Connecticut and, allowed to take only $50 with him, moved to America. There he wrote a memoir, Jamaica Farewell (1977).

A change of government, however, brought him back, and with his half-brother John Pringle, now Jamaica`s Ambassador-at-large, he bought a large estate near Hope Bay, Portland, called “Paradise Plum”. But the plantation was devastated by a hurricane and floods, and in 1982 he gave up farming and moved to Kingston to concentrate on journalism.

Although ill health and near-blindness had latterly confined him to a wheelchair, he still wrote his column three times a week until just before his death.

Cargill was, despite the strength of his opinions, a kind and considerate man. His books included A Gallery of Nazis (1977) and three thrillers written with John Hearne under the pseudonym John Morris. A Selection of Writings in the Gleaner, 1952-85 appeared in 1987, and was followed in 1998 by another collection, Public Disturbances.

Morris Cargill was appointed a Commander of the Order of Distinction (Jamaica) for services to journalism in 1998. He described it as a “sort of equivalent to the CBE, and only given to extinct volcanoes”.

He married first, in 1937, Barbara Margot Samuel. They were divorced in 1972, but remained on friendly terms and took their holidays together. They adopted a daughter, who survives them both. A second marriage was also dissolved.

The Austin Powers movie series is well known for lovingly spoofing the Bond series. It`s whole premise is virtually based on every well known cliche about 007. But it may come as a surprise to some that James Bond actually did do battle with Dr. Evil in a very short story published in a Chicago-based magazine circa 1975. Nick Kincaid rummages through 25 years of archived material to unearth this gem:

“Exclusive – Four unpublished early masterpieces

Now that it`s becoming the fashion to dig out the juvenile works of famous writers, MILES KINGTON jumps on the bandwagon with a quartet of previously unknown works of genius.

Other titles:
The Case of the Missing Navy, by Conan Doyle aged 13
Death at Tea Time, by Ernest Hemingway aged 14
Lord Arthur Wentworth`s Blackboard, by Oscar Wilde aged 15

Dr Evil
By Ian Fleming, aged 14 1/2

James Bond strode into the hallway of Dr Evil`s house, wearing an immaculate school blazer which had been made for him by Jacob Schneider of Lucerne, which I think is in Switzerland, and asked the receptionist to tell Dr Evil that James Bond had come to see him.

“Dr Evil?” she said into the phone. “There is a boy called Bond to see you.”

“Who is almost 17,” said James.

“Who is only 17,” she said. “Yes, sir. Will you take the lift to the third floor?”

When Bond left the lift at the third floor he found himself face to face with Dr Evil, a squat, ugly, horrible little man who was uncannily like a certain schoolmaster.
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“What can I do for you, Master Bond?” he said leering.

Bond felt in his pocket casually to check that his 2 1/2 lb catapult, made of choice elm wood by a master craftsman in Bond Street, which is a very important street near Piccadilly, was loaded. He only used the very best conkers, imported from his aunt in Ireland, which was better than most aunts who only sent you book tokens.

“I think you know what I have come for, ” he said coolly, no, icily.

“You have my replica authentic Japanese destroyer which fires real hara-kiri aeroplanes, which you confiscated for your own devilish ends. Sir.”

The face of Dr Evil went pale and he reached for his poison gun, but before he could pull it out Bond had pounced. At lightning speed he fastened the evil man in a half-Nelson, gave him a Chinese burn, did a quick knuckle-crusher and punched him in the nose. Dr Evil sank lifeless to the ground, only he wasn`t really dead. Like a flash, Bond entered the nearest room. There, on the bed, was the most fantastic blonde, really smashing, with no clothes on at all, if you know what I mean, like in books. There, on the table was his authentic Japanese destroyer.

“Who are you?” she gasped huskily gazing at the handsome stranger.

“I am James Bond and I am 16 3/4,” he said in as low a voice as possible. “I have just killed your friend Dr Evil, but he will live.”

He strode to the table and picked up the destroyer. Before he left the room he turned to the girl, well, woman, and said:

“You will get cold lying around with no clothes on, anyway it looks silly, whatever they say in books. I would get a dressing gown on if I were you.

Moments later there came the distinctive sound of Bond`s super three-speed-gear Raleigh as he pedalled away down the drive.”

[This first appeared in The Critic, Fall 1975, copyright (c) 1975 by The Thomas More Association]

Bestselling author Frederick Forsyth has often been compared to Ian Fleming so it’s not surprising that Forsyth’s publisher Patrick Janson-Smith recently got together with Forsyth for lunch on September 4th (2001) and, among other things, discussed the idea of Forsyth writing a James Bond novel. Patrick Janson-Smith’s surname should be familiar to 007Forever readers: his father, Peter, is chairman of Glidrose, which controls the James Bond book copyright.

Forsyth is often mentioned as the popular choice to write Bond novels. According to one insider, “He [Forsyth] could certainly write a classy, racy British thriller that sells copies, which is what the Bond book franchise needs these days.” Unfortunately as Patrick Janson-Smith reports, “Alas, he told me that he has, and has had, absolutely no desire to follow in the footsteps of Ian Fleming.”

According to Nick Kincaid, 007Forever literary expert: “It’s a shame he’s not interested. His novels The Devil’s Alternative and Icon could have easily been Bond novels. Both men share similar backgrounds in journalism, they’ve both been foreign correspondents and Forsyth is the only other writer I’ve come across who, like Fleming, wrote in such a dry, clinical and yet droll and occasionally lugibrious manner.”

At 19, Forsyth was the youngest pilot in the RAF. As a foreign correspondent for Reuters and then the BBC, he worked throughout Europe and Africa. Forsyth burst onto the publishing scene with the thriller The Day of the Jackal. His latest book, The Veteran, a collection of five stories, has just been published.

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For more, see:

http://frederickforsyth.cjb.net/

http://www.whirlnet.co.uk/forsyth/

The CWA is delighted to announce an exciting new annual prize for the year’s best thriller, adventure novel or spy fiction novel. The Ian Fleming Steel Dagger has been suggested and sponsored by Ian Fleming (Glidrose) Publications Ltd., to celebrate the best of contemporary thriller writing.

CASINO ROYALE, Ian Fleming’s first novel, was completed in 1952, and so this year marks fifty years of James Bond. Penguin Books will be reissuing the complete Ian Fleming backlist in April this year and the twentieth Bond movie will be released in November 2002.

Eligible books can come from authors of any nationality but must have been first published in the UK in English between 1st September and 31st August in each judging year. The first prize of £2,000 and a Steel Dagger will be awarded this year. Judging will be administered by the Crime Writers’ Association (who already run the Gold & Silver Dagger, the Short Story Dagger, the Non-fiction Dagger, the Creasey Dagger and the Ellis Peters Prize for Historical Crime Fiction).

This is a simple and tasty way to make appalachianmagazine.com viagra sale sure that these ramifications are prevented. This drug leads for common side- effects that are experienced by the people who have broken bones, joint surgery and joint replacement. Always check expiry of the medicines you buy online. Not appalachianmagazine.com order cheap cialis likely consumed by the females and kids, it should be consumed as per the doctor’s prescription. The first panel of judges are Ian Fleming’s former literary agent, Peter Janson-Smith, crime critic and author Peter Guttridge, Cambridge bookseller Richard Reynolds, and the current chairman of the CWA, Russell James. The judging panel will be chaired by Kate Jones, formerly an editorial director of Penguin Books, and now literary consultant to Ian Fleming (Glidrose) Publications Ltd. A short list will be announced at the end of September and the winner will be announced at an awards ceremony in London this November.

Russell James commented, “We’ve deliberately framed the rules to attract writers from all over the English speaking world. It’s a very inclusive competition and we’ll welcome entries of all kinds of adventure fiction, whether aimed at adult or younger age groups. I think the prestige of being the first winner of this major new prize, closely associated with the Ian Fleming name, will draw a host of entries.” Kate Jones said, “Ian Fleming (Glidrose) Publications Ltd are delighted to inaugurate this award. Fifty years ago, Ian Fleming redefined thriller writing and his character James Bond is a twentieth century icon without peer. We wanted to mark Ian Fleming’s achievements by celebrating the best of contemporary thriller writing.”

—Article ©2002 The Crime Writers Association

007Forever is honored to present these two items written by one of Ian Fleming`s closest friends, the author William Plomer. Though it`s likely there would have been a James Bond without Plomer, it`s unlikely that either Fleming or Bond would have been as successful.

Special thanks to Duff Hart-Davis, the William Plomer estate, Ms Elizabeth Rainey, Durham University, and Peter F. Alexander for his book William Plomer: A Biography.

ADDRESS GIVEN at the MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR IAN FLEMING by WILLIAM PLOMER on SEPTEMBER 15th 1964

We have come together today to commemorate a man whose absence we can`t yet begin to get used to. Ian Fleming was decidedly a man of our time, but in any age such an uncommon personality, such varied gifts and high spirits, would make a strong impression. He made one feel one had to try and live up to his standard of alertness, to keep tuned up, and to move at his own quick tempo. He seemed always to take the shortest distance between two points in the shortest possible time, and although he didn`t suffer bores gladly, his appetite for life, his curiosity and quick understanding, and his admiration of what was well done used generally to bring out the best in other people. We miss him, and we shall go on missing him.

Because he was most widely known as a writer, let us think of that aspect of him first. Although his books made him world-famous, he was modest about them to the end. He took a proper pride in his inventiveness and skill, yet never pretended that his books were more than popular entertainments. After his faithful secretary, I happened to be the person who always had the privilege of being the first to read them. He was pleased when one praised him and always good-humoured when one proposed corrections or teased him: he had a way of thanking one, even for small services, which added to the pleasure of being able to help him.

His head was never turned by his enormous popular success. But popular success often rankles with the unsuccessful, and in the natural course of things he was exposed to envy: this was sometimes to be seen in print, but I never heard him take any notice of it. Of course not everybody could be expected to like his books. “They`re not my cup of tea,” one has heard people say, to which the obvious answer is that they are not cups of tea at all – they are something much more stimulating. It was a little distasteful when some persons who had read Ian`s books with enjoyment proceeded to speak too patronizingly of them or to run them down. Perhaps it is a residual puritanism that makes some people feel guilty when they have enjoyed anything: then, instead of blaming themselves for ingratitude, they find fault with the source of their pleasures. Let those who take too high a moral tone about the dream world of James Bond take note of the cheerful reactions of film audiences to his adventures, and I think they will find the atmosphere anything but corrupt.

Isn`t it possible that Bond and his adventures became world-famous, not only because of their excitingly realistic detail, but because they constitute a thoroughly romantic myth, a series of vivid fairy-tales, which seems to fulfil a persistent need? Isn`t it perhaps the simple, age-old need to escape from dullness by identifying oneself with a dragon-slaying and maiden-rescuing hero, who wins battle after battle against devilish forces of destruction, and yet continues indestructible himself?

What a feat to have re-created, in a new idiom, a myth of such universal appeal! And unprecedented in its way. Something near 20 million copies of Ian`s books have up to now been sold, and they have been translated so far into 18 languages, including Catalan and Turkish. They are read in Iceland and Thailand, in Japan and Brazil, and widely in America and Western Europe. They were appreciated by the late President Kennedy; they don`t go quite unnoticed in the curtained-off countries; in some places admirers have formed James Bond clubs; and vast new publics respond to James Bond films.

Although Ian`s health had been troubling him, he managed to complete an exciting new book that shows no least sign of a falling off. And we shan`t have to wait long for the publication of an entertaining and sympathetic appreciation of his work by a famous younger writer, Kingsley Amis. Also, Ian had completed three engaging books for the young. These show a happy, playful side of his character quite unfamiliar to the public. In the public eye, he was quite simply a pre-eminent writer of thrillers, Bond-like, with a supposedly sensational naval background; but the public eye is myopic, and can only take in one thing at a time. I have heard it said that there were several different Ians, and that he kept different parts of his life quite separate. If this is true, it is one more proof that the popular image of him is far too crude and flat.

Only since his death has it begun to be more generally understood that he had done well in several different careers, and that he was a character of some complexity. But those who were at school with him, or who used to work with him in the City, or in Reuters, or in the Admiralty, or in the newspaper world, or who had watched him creating his original and important library, or who saw him enjoying life in Jamaica, or who at any time travelled or played cards or golf with him, can confirm that he was a man who touched life at many points. And of how many men can one say, as one can of him, not only that he had much to give but gave all he had got? One is reminded of James Bond`s saying: “I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”

Ian`s energy must have been already apparent at Eton. I think it is not generally known what an athlete he was as a boy. At Eton he was twice Victor Ludorum, but even before he was sixteen he had won, I believe, every single athletic event except the high jump, and this caused him to be featured in the newsreels of those distant days. His bodily feats didn`t prevent him using his head. For instance, he pounced appreciatively at that time upon the first book of a then unknown writer – a book which in its season was probably an outstanding worst-seller, but which has turned out to have a lasting influence. This was nothing like a half-baked schoolboy of the flannelled-fool variety but already a young man with a mind searching for facts, pressing forward to discover what the world was like, and already using his valuable gift, so evident in his later career, of recognizing, and therefore encouraging, other men`s abilities.

His later education and experience were pretty varied – Sandhurst, Munich, Moscow, the City – and then, from 1939, seven years of his life were absorbed by his work in the Naval Intelligence Division. Just before the War, Admiral Godfrey, the Director of Naval Intelligence, who had long shown a more elastic understanding of the world and of his own profession than was likely to be discernible in more conventional sailors, recruited Ian from the City. This was on the recommendation of no lesser persons than Sir Edward Peacock and Sir Montague Norman, the Governor of the Bank of England.

It wasn`t only his quick and resourceful brain that Ian brought to the service of his country, but administrative ability. He was an unfailing source of brilliant and constructive ideas, and he had the faculty of knowing how to apply them in a practical way. Also, in a service traditionally silent, and sometimes tongue-tied, he was notably articulate both in conversation and on paper; and, like most capable officers, he felt that there were times when the risk of giving offence was nothing compared with the importance of being, if necessary, blunt. He was never ready to defer to pomposity, incompetence and red tape. As right-hand man to the Director of Naval Intelligence, Ian was inevitably tied down to the Admiralty, but he did make a number of necessary sorties, with or without his chief. No doubt it was his anxiety to take his own share in active service (though his own kind of service could hardly be called inactive) that caused Admiral Godfrey to send him to sea as an observer during the assault on Dieppe, with strict instructions to take care that he didn`t get lost in France.

I wish to emphasize, because it may not be fully understood even among many who knew him, or thought they knew him, that long before he began to write his first book, Ian was one of those whose services to his country, during those menacing years, made it possible for us to survive and to be here together indulging in reminiscence today. That may seem to you too obvious a remark, a kind of memorial cliche, but it isn`t. When I was lately talking over with Admiral Godfrey the nature of Ian`s wartime services, he summed it all up in a most memorable phrase, better I think than any laurel wreath or shining medal. “Ian”, he said, “was a war-winner.”

It was Admiral Godfrey who introduced him to the delights of under-water swimming, when it was much less familiar than it is now. It seemed an activity exactly made for him. It was athletic, it was not without its hazards, and it offered the discovery of a hidden world of fascinating mysteries. Discovery, I think, is a key-word: Ian was a great finder-out. And this predominant trait in his character helped to fit him for his valued association, after the War, with the Sunday Times, as its foreign manager. His ability and enterprise as a journalist can be seen in what may almost be called his instant travel-book, Thrilling Cities. That inquiring mind of his and that retentive memory would often surprise one. He was just as liable to reveal a knowledge of tropical birds or rare seashells, as of first editions or motor engines or the night life of Hamburg. What never surprised one, because one knew them to be constant, were his truthfulness and directness, his loyalties, and that restless, high-spirited independence which must sometimes have made him feel like a surf-rider alone with the speed of a tremendous wave.

Don`t let us indulge in vain regrets that he didn`t live longer, but let us be glad that he lived so intensely. Even that strong constitution began to feel the strain, and the last months of his life were anything but easy for him, as the prospect of a return to his usual courses, and then even the prospect of recovery, dwindled away. He was obviously quite unused and unadaptable to physical handicaps and restrictions, and he seemed quite incapable of learning to slow down or of giving in: he fought for life like a wounded tiger. In that fight the odds against him were too great, but he was sustained by his wife`s devotion and by her patience with his perfectly understandable impatience about his condition. In health and in sickness she gave his life a special significance, and nothing in it was more important than his feelings for her and for his son Caspar, to whose future we hopefully look forward.

I can`t step down from this place, and you wouldn`t wish me to, without reminding his widow and their son, and his other near and dear relations and friends, not all of whom are able to be here today, that our sympathy with them is unanimous. Remembering Ian, we share their bereavement; and when we think of him, with what his wartime associate Robert Harling has well described as his “sad, bony, fateful face”, let us remember him as he was on top of the world, with his foot on the accelerator, laughing at absurdities, enjoying discoveries, absorbed in his many interests and plans, fascinated and amused by places and people and facts and fantasies, an entertainer of millions, and for us a friend never to be forgotten.

PRIVATELY PRINTED

AT THE WESTERHAM PRESS

—————————————————————–

i>NOTES & TOPICS

Ian Fleming Remembered

IAN FLEMING made my acquaintance before I made his. It happened nearly forty years ago, when he was a boy at school. “I have a natural love of action,” he wrote many years later, and at Eton this was already plain: he as an athlete of exceptional power, and was twice Victor Ludorum. In fact before he was sixteen he had won every single athletic event except the high jump. This made news of more than Etonian interest and caused him to be featured in the newsreels of those pre-television days. But he was no small-brained muscle-boy; all through his life his physical energy ran, or jumped, neck and neck with intellectual curiosity. He evidently wanted to know all about life and a good deal about literature, and especially about its impact on life. It so happened that while Fleming was still at school my first novel made its appearance; he got hold of it, read it, and was excited by it. He had almost certainly never heard of me before, and I can`t remember what put him on to the book. He might have been guided by his sharp flair, like that of a mine-detector, for a new threat to dullness and complacency. Or possibly the use by reviewers of words like “volcanic” had aroused his interest. (There is evidence that the tremors set up by this book have continued in Africa until now, and it is at present being reprinted.) The thought occurs to me for the first time that Fleming may just conceivably have been a little influenced by Turbott Wolfe. It cannot be called a thriller, but many people found it disturbing. They were meant to. It recognised and asserted that life includes the head-on collision and struggle of violent forces.

I first met Fleming some years later, when I had returned to live in London. He asked me to a party in Chelsea given by his handsome mother. He was youthfully handsome himself, wearing a well-cut dark blue suit and with very good manners, easy, cheerful and welcoming. After Eton he had been at Sandhurst and in Munich, and was now in Reuters, which sent him at various times to Berlin and Moscow. He seemed to me to have good luck on his side – youth, health, strength, money, general eligibility, a social status taken for granted, work that interested him, and a consciousness of his powers. At that first encounter he struck me as no mere conventional young English man-of-the-world of his generation; he showed more character, a much quicker brain, and a promise of something dashing or daring. Like a mettlesome young horse, he seemed to show the whites of his eyes and to smell some battle from afar.

If I had been anything like an ambitious young man-of-the-world myself, or if I had been enjoying life less, I can imagine that I might have thought how pleasant it would be to be him. In fact such a thought could hardly have occurred to me, because our ways of life were quite different. Some of his keen interests – fast cars, golf, gambling – were as immeasurably far from mine as some of mine from his. But his liveliness and curiosity were congenial to me, and we were responsive to each other`s jokes, anecdotes, and opinions.

DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR our paths began to converge. We were in the same service and for some of the time under the same roof. Myself embattled as that marginal anomaly, a civilian officer on the Naval Staff, I was an inconspicuous but diligent auxiliary o the Naval Intelligence Division, in which Fleming`s role was important. His responsibilities at the Admiralty gave him scope for some of his best abilities and he enjoyed exercising them. They were most efficiently applied to defeating the enemy; and Admiral Godfrey, at that time Director of Naval Intelligence, looks back upon him as a “war winner.”

Fleming`s private self – or selves, because he was not a man of a single interest or a single aspect – seemed to some to be hidden, or withdrawn. There were persons near him during the War who felt that they never really knew him except as an active functionary, polite and often cheerful with those who seemed to him properly tuned up, and capable of being abrupt with others. I suppose his inmost self to have been strongly fortified, and I should guess that some who were much attracted by him, and believe themselves attractive to him, may have found to their disappointment or even sorrow that any right of way through the fortifications, or tenancy within, was denied to them. He was perhaps too self-possessed a man to tolerate possessiveness aimed at him by others. In those strenuous wartime days he did not give, or give so clearly, the sense he occasionally conveyed of being alone when not alone. His wartime associate Robert Harling has written of Fleming`s “sad, bony, fateful face.” There were moments, as he grew older, when with its heavy eyelids and mixed look of determination and abstraction, it looked like a sculptured mask of melancholy.

I have heard it said of him that he kept his life in separate compartments. So he did, but surely that is quite usual for persons with many different activities and interests, who touch life at various levels that do not overlap and may have nothing in common with one another.

Once during the War, when some of its worst phases were past, we were feeding alone together and found time to speak of what we intended to do when it was over. With a diffidence that came surprisingly from so buoyant a man, he said he had a wish to write a thriller. He may not have used exactly that word, but made it quite plain that he had in mind some exciting story of espionage and sudden death. I at once made it equally plain how strongly I believed in his ability to write such a book, and in its probable originality. “But,” I said, “it`s no good writing just one. With that sort of book, you must become regular in your habits. You must hit the nail again and again with the same hammer until it`s driven into the thick head of your potential public.” He gave me a long and thoughtful look.

It as not until he was at his Jamaican house at the beginning of 1951 that he sat down to write Casino Royale. I knew nothing about it.

“When I got back to London,” he wrote some years later, “I did nothing with the manuscript. I was too ashamed of it. No publisher would want it, and, if one did, I would not have the face to see it in print.” He went on to explain how one day he had been lunching with me, and had asked me “how you got cigarette smoke out of a woman once you`ve got it in.”

Always, I hope, alert to the caprices of the human race, and generally expectant that they are likely to be grotesque, I must have speculated rapidly about this intimate-sounding injection. He went on to explain that one couldn`t use a world like “exhales,” and “puffs it out,” he thought, sounded silly. And then – “William looked at me sharply: “You`ve written a book.””

Of course I asked to see it. He felt that I would “tell the horrible truth about the book without condemning me or being scornful.”

I read, I applauded, he conquered.

THE BEST AND MOST entertaining analysis of his thrillers ever likely to be written is to be found in Kingsley Amis` forthcoming book. My own summary view of them is that they are brilliant, romantic fairy-tales in which a dragon-slaying maiden-rescuing hero wins battle after battle against devilish forces of destruction, and yet is indestructible himself: an ancient kind of myth skilfully re-created in a modern idiom. They are, like life, sexy and violent, but I have never thought them corrupting. Compared with some of the nasty stuff that gets into print, they have a sort of boyish innocence.

In the popular imagination Fleming is confused with or thought to have been identical with James Bond. There may be something Flemingish about Bond, but I didn`t see much of Bond in Fleming, who was more perturbable. Let us admit, as Fleming himself did, that Bond and his adventures are something of an adolescent fantasy. Is there anything wrong in that? Not at the box office. At the time of his death some 20 millions copies of his books had been sold and they had been translated by then into eighteen languages. The films have already captured vast audiences.

Fleming`s attitude to his own books was perfectly straightforward. He was pleased that they did so well (who, in his place, wouldn`t have been?), took a proper pride in his skill in composing them, and was delighted that they pleased readers worth pleasing – President Kennedy, for instance. But there was never any sign that he pretended to himself or to anybody else that the literary value of what he wrote was underestimated. It did please him to pretend that I was a sort of only begetter of his books, which was nonsense. Or was it just an indication of his characteristic capacity for gratitude? As somebody who knew him well reminded me lately, “Ian always said thank you.” Some of the inscriptions in the copies of his books he gave me repeated the unearned but recurrent compliment – for example, in my copy of Goldfinger, “To William, who started these balls rolling.”

In fact I used to be the first person to whom his books were shown, partly for professional reasons. When I found things to praise, he seemed pleased; when I suggested emendations, he was attentive – sometimes too attentive. I once said to him, just after reading a new James Bond typescript, that although the persons in it often made exclamatory remarks, these were never followed by a point of exclamation. I said this half-teasingly, but he took it so seriously that when the book came out, the New York Times took him to task for peppering his pages, like a schoolgirl, with exclamation marks.

I thought it admirable and dignified in him that he appeared to take no notice whatever of the envy he naturally provoked. This envy showed itself sometimes in spiteful or patronising reviews or gossip. Ungenerous natures, without a tenth of his vitality, brains, or experience, would sometimes try and mask their envy by disapproval or by affecting a high moral tone about his books, calling them sadistic (understandably) or “snobbish” – by which I suppose they meant status-conscious or something. To some people, naturally, the books could not and cannot appeal. “Not my cup of tea,” I have heard some say: the answer to that is that the Bond book are not cups of tea at all, but something more stimulating. In any case, what on earth would be the character of a book that was everybody`s cup of anything? Though to some the books are distasteful, I have never heard them called boring.

ONE COULD HARDLY CALL Fleming a bookish man, which suggests somehow an untidy, bespectacled, bible-backed, pedantic half-recluse. But he had an active interest in book-collecting and had built up a remarkable library, concerned with the impact of literature, of new ideas in literature upon life. An assiduous reader of The Times Literary Supplement, he had a sharp eye and good memory for critical or bibliographical details.

If a biography of him is ever written, competently written, he will be seen as a man who was successful in several different spheres of action, and who made full use of his lease of life. When his health was no longer good, it was impossible to imagine him settling down to the existence of a prudent invalid obsessed with trying to make it last as long as possible. I think he knew he had, as they say, “had it.”

In his will he generously left me and two or three other friends some money to be spent within a year on some “extravagance.” I would rather he had survived me. No extravagance by us can disguise though it may commemorate his absence. Whatever the money is spent on I shall think of him looking over my shoulder, curious to see how it is being used, a little ironic and (I hope) pleased.

Wililam Plomer

[The article first appeared in the January 1965 Encounter]

WILLIAM PLOMER BIOGRAPHY AND APPRECIATION

William (Charles Franklyn) Plomer (whose surname rhymes with “rumour”), a respected poet and novelist, was born December 10th, 1903 in Pietersberg, South Africa, to English parents. Spending most of his life in England, he didn`t consider himself South African. “I once had a cat [that] had kittens in the oven, but no one mistook them for biscuits.”

Educated mostly in England, Plomer and his family moved back to South Africa in 1914, where he spent three miserable years at a British boarding school. Plomer`s father – a ne`er-do-well who domineered his family and drifted from one job to the next, eventually becoming a minor civil servant – had wanted to avoid service in WWI. Plomer began writing poetry in 1920, and that same year, he left school and his father forced him into sheep farming. Plomer subsequently admitted that he wasn`t much good at it, however, life on the farm and the South African racial strife he witnessed first-hand provided much background material and characters for his first novel, Turbott Wolfe, which he began when 19. Plomer also drew – this is a neglected aspect of his life – and for many years wasn`t sure whether he would paint or write.

After Plomer`s father suffered a nervous breakdown and was retired from the civil service, the two took over a run-down native trading station in a desolate Zulu reserve. Unlike some of their white neighbours, father and son developed a rapport with the Zulus but were disliked by the other whites, also for having a higher standard of living.

Plomer began contributing poems to the Zulu paper Ilanga lase Natal in 1924 under the pseudonym “PQR”, and took details of his life in the trading station and those around him, as he did with life on the sheep farm, for his novel Turbott Wolfe, about a white painter who runs a store and encourages miscegenation (“race mixing”, which at this stage wasn`t outlawed).

Only 21, he submitted the manuscript to Leonard and Virginia Woolf`s Hogarth Press. One front-page headline review read “A NASTY BOOK ON A NASTY SUBJECT”. Cyril Connolly (noted author, Ian Fleming friend and author of the Bond story Bond Strikes Camp) considered it one of the “key books” of modern literature. Literary critic Martin Seymour-Smith subsequently wrote that Plomer “was the first modern South African writer of English fiction to try to see Africans as they actually are. His first novel […] bears obvious signs of its author`s youth; but it remains a passionate demonstration that a human way for South Africa would be through miscegenation.” By the 1960`s, the South African library system supposedly had to keep its copy under lock and key.

In June 1925 he met the young poet Roy Campbell, editor of the new magazine Voorslag (“Whiplash”) who hired Plomer on as sub-editor. Plomer in turn arranged for South African writer Laurens van der Post to join the magazine. All three opposed anti-black sentiments and the magazine was controversial from the start. Campbell bumped heads with the magazine`s backers before the first issue appeared in June 1926, and resigned by the third issue (effectively taking Plomer with him).

Much of what Plomer now wrote attacked whites and praised blacks: “such a direct onslaught on this vast mass of crawling filthiness called South Africa… It is a lovely country […] and I know it and love it, and I know the nobility of the natives and their unsurpassable human qualities, but the whites are unspeakable… a man doesn`t go against his countrymen without reason.”

At about this same time a Japanese ship captain (Mori) arranged for Van der Post and Plomer to visit Japan. Though Van der Post returned to South Africa, Plomer stayed on for three years, which gave him much material for his wonderful second novel Sado. Plomer taught at a “not especially exalted teachers` training college” since “Native speakers of English were in short supply in Tokyo.” He suffered financial and housing difficulties, cold weather, ill health, and was unable to properly learn the language except for understanding the most rudimentary spoken phrases. His prospects however soon improved and he got a better paying job teaching at a Japanese high-school, and took a small village house with a male Imperial University student, the first of two students he was to live with in Japan. Plomer was open to his students, even inviting them to visit him at home. Friends remarked on the austerity of his surroundings – he owned few material possessions, a trait he kept for the rest of his life. One night while visiting Hiroshima, he saw a “curious domed cloud of smoke floating over the city” at a fireworks display, which he subsequently used for his brilliant story Thy Neighbour`s Creed (published in his 1949 collection Four Countries) about an elderly Japanese man who has premonitions of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. (Plomer, unlike many others, was quite sympathetic to the Japanese both during and after WWII.)

However, Plomer was too much the outsider (which was true no matter where he went most of his life), and didn`t feel at home in Japan. He left before his ties with the country and current mate got any stronger, and also because he feared his life might be in danger; his short story collection Paper Houses, in which he mercilessly attacked Japanese life and nationalism (in the story Mother Kamchatka) was about to be published. (Plomer was later offered the chair of English literature at Imperial University in Tokyo, which would have paid very well, but declined, determined not to return to Japan.) Back in England, he lived with his parents – his father still just as difficult – and worked on his Japanese novel Sado. Through Virginia Woolf, Plomer met and was embraced by the Bloomsbury set and Bohemian literary London, including Lytton Strachey, TS Eliot, and many others, some of whom got him book reviewing assignments with prestigious journals. He also met Somerset Maugham, Herbert Read, and, in 1931, John Lehmann who then had begun working at the Hogarth Press. During the mid 1930`s, Plomer became a regular contributor to publications where his friends worked.

Much is made elsewhere about the fan letter Ian Fleming sent Plomer (then still in Japan) about Turbott Wolfe – arguably a crucial moment in Fleming`s life and James Bond`s future. At approximately the same time, Anthony Butts, a dilettante painter and playwright also wrote praising Turbott Wolfe; the two men were to grow close. In 1929, after Plomer had returned to England, EM Forster (A Passage To India) wrote praising Plomer`s short story Ula Masondo. The two remained friends until Forster`s death in 1970. Forster even asked Plomer to be his official biographer, though nothing came of it. In 1955, when reviewing A Shot In The Park, Forster wrote that Plomer is “my favourite living contemporary poet… [his work is] full of colour, feeling, distinction, character-drawing, epigram, and mischievousness.” Elizabeth Bowen, whom he also subsequently met, also wrote at the end of 1933 complimenting him on his novel The Invaders.

Unhappy living with his parents (which he never regarded as a “home”), he moved to London in September 1929. His books made him little money, so occasional reviews, and a regular article he wrote for the Cape Times (thanks to Van der Post`s intervention) gave him enough money to move into a large, cheerful mid-Victorian house in Bayswater, run by a pretty young woman, whom Plomer liked. Her husband, though, was violent and terrified her. Early one Sunday morning, the man, wrongly figuring that she and Plomer were romantically involved, slashed his wife to death with a razor in front of their 6 year old daughter. He then went looking for Plomer, who was away that weekend. When Plomer got back he had to clean the place up, including picking scraps of flesh from the carpet. At his birthdary party, which he held in the murder-house several days later, he told Virginia Woolf that while murders were not his line as a novelist, he had been fascinated by crimes of violence from childhood. Plomer brooded on the matter for two years and based his subsequent novel The Case Is Altered very closely on the incident.

Plomer`s friendship with the hot-headed Roy Campbell drifted apart and finally ended for good in 1933 when Campbell`s wife kissed Plomer in the back seat of taxi. Campbell was more offended than Plomer. He however made new friends, including the young, still unknown poet Stephen Spender early in 1930, and through him, the poet WH Auden and the author Christopher Isherwood (whose novel Goodbye To Berlin became the film Cabaret). Plomer found these friendships useful in that he got reviewing work and outlets for articles and poems out of them. He now also published his poetry in important journals and magazines almost immediately after writing it.

By Plomer`s own admission, he led a rather lazy life during the 1930`s which he never made up for after. He wrote less, content to drift, living mostly on his earnings as a regular fiction reviewer for the Spectator, and any paying publication. By 1935, his income had dropped to 386 pounds, and that was mostly spent on young men. Troubled by not belonging anywhere, Plomer once wrote to Virginia Woolf saying, “I don`t suppose you know how separate I feel myself from all my contemporaries.”

Plomer and Anthony Butts, who had become close friends, also became travelling companions by the end of 1929 and travelled through Europe in 1930. They settled in Greece, where Plomer wrote stories and an unfinished novel Memoirs of an Emigrant. The trip was cut short when Butts, who was footing the trip, heard from his mother that she could send no more money because the family finances were shaky. Worse, Plomer heard that his mother had been operated on for cancer (both of Plomer`s parents were to die from cancer: his mother in October 1939, and his father in January 1955). Moreover Nicky, the blond sailor Plomer had been involved with grew bored, left him for another moneyed foreigner, taking Plomer`s savings, giving him a venereal disease. Some have said that Plomer never outgrew this traumatic experience. “If one is conscious of intense happiness, one is a fool to trust it.” He returned to England in November 1930, his mother sick, though recuperating and his father even more difficult and domineering. Unable to live with them, Plomer moved to Herefordshire, on the Welsh border, and wrote 170,000 words of his autobiographical novel, which dealt with his move from Africa to Japan and then on to Europe. Its hero, Plomer was later to say, “made the awful discovery that love, to come into being, may even need something more than the wonderful coincidence of the time and the place and loved one.” Unlike Turbott Wolfe, Plomer struggled long and hard with this novel, having already destroyed 50,000 words of it in August 1929. (Later, after he became Cape reader, Plomer wrote to fellow novelist Elizabeth Bowen, “of course it takes up nearly all my time, and as I still do a certain amount of reviewing I seldom have a moment. It`s annoying, as I feel a novel ripening.” Plomer wrote 25,000 words before destroying it – an extremely annoying habit of his that he did several times throughout his life.)

The Woolfs and their reader thought the novel episodic and Plomer reluctantly agreed to rewrite it and cut it in half. He believed that his difficulties resulted from his frustrated attempts to get to grips with what he called his “real nature”, and wrote to Van der Post, “I am trying to learn to conduct my life & work in accordance with my real nature, & although I am nearer to it than I was, I have still difficulties to surmount.”

His health deteriorating, and on a 10 pound advance, he moved into a sleazy bed-sitting-room in London. Van der Post found him one of many down-and-nearly-outs in England at that time; during a late long-night walk, Plomer talked of suicide. “It was the only time I really saw William completely vulnerable and exposed and finished and he didn`t care who knew it – there was no pose about it.” He believed the affair with Nicky was a turning-point in Plomer`s life – Plomer had put everything for the first time in his life into his love for Nicky. It`s been said that Plomer was always attracted what he considered his social inferiors, whether they be Zulus or his Japanese students, because it gave him control over the relationship. (It`s also been claimed that to many, the lower-classes “reeked” of sex.)

By May 1931, Plomer had salvaged the Japanese section from his long autobiographical novel and published it that autumn as Sado (They Never Come Back in the US); the remaining South African, Greek and English sections were either scrapped or used as short stories in his 1933 collection The Child Of Queen Victoria. Set in Japan, the novel is about an Englishman, loved by an exiled Englishwoman, who becomes involved with the title character – this particular aspect of the book was clearly modelled on Plomer`s own relationship with a Japanese student. The novel was generally well-received, though Virginia Woolf herself didn`t like it, finding it too episodic, and Spender thought the characters effete. Forster enjoyed it and it`s my personal favourite Plomer novel. Very subtle, and a lightning-paced read, the brilliant first half gives way to a confused, slightly inert, second half.

At Anthony Butts` invitation and urging, Plomer moved into Butts` spacious house in December 1931. Unlike Plomer, Anthony Butts was happy to live in chaos. Some had said of Butts, “his behaviour was eccentric, extravagant, and self-destructive.” He travelled, gambled, drank, and lavished money on friends. He and his mother – who had taken a lobster to a chemist to be chloroformed – once wealthy, were by now almost broke. Plomer would say (ironically, given Butts` death), “My God, Tony, you`ll end in the gutter if you aren`t careful,” but Butts would laugh. His disorder pulled Plomer`s life into disorder; gradually, under his influence, Plomer`s own life slipped once more into disorder.

Plomer spent the beginning of 1932 working quickly to write The Case Is Altered, the factual novel about his murdered landlady, which “brought together Britons of different classes and backgrounds, assembled them under a single roof”. Plomer`s publishers rightly saw the book as a potential bestseller, and were proven correct, though I consider it Plomer`s weakest novel, and somewhat padded. However, he earned 1051 pounds that year, nearly 900 pounds more than in 1931. His next poetry work, though, Fivefold Screen, published in April 1932, lost money. Plomer explained that poetry was “a handful of semi-precious stones, which came in for the admiration of others, but were not much in demand,” and almost completely stopped writing verse until after the war.

Plomer moved out of Butts` house in September 1932, and took up with Bernard Bayes, a Royal Guard, though this relationship subsequently proved unsatisfactory. Plomer considered getting married, but the woman in question turned him down – partly because she was involved with Van der Post. Though Plomer`s friendship with her remained intact, his friendship with Van der Post faltered; he even downplayed Van der Post in his own autobiography. It`s been said that “Another side-effect of this rejection was a harshness in some of his comments about women, and a growing dislike of them.” He was occasionally hostile and rude to them and his poetry in the late 30s and early 40s became more satirical, more grotesque, emphasizing the sleazier aspects of sexual transactions in London, and occasionally quite graphic about violence against women. Women disgusted him sexually, and during his voyage to Japan in 1926 was at his wits` end when the unwitting Captain Mori nearly took him to a brothel.

Frustrated with how the Hogarth Press promoted his books, Plomer jumped at the chance to join his friend Rupert Hart-Davis at Jonathan Cape. Hart-Davis liked Plomer`s writing and would become Plomer`s literary executor. Discussing The Child Of Queen Victoria, Cape`s reader, Edward Garnett wrote “Plomer is certainly about the most original and keenest mind of the younger generation.” Somerset Maugham wrote to Cape praising the book, “Plomer has brought it off wonderfully.” However only 87 copies had sold by October 1933.

Cape pushed Plomer for a novel, and the result, The Invaders, published in October 1934, about young adults and their experiences in London, is probably his easiest to read and, expectedly, his most superficial. Plomer found the book a struggle because he knew little about young women, though he based one of the male characters on Bernard Bayes, the Royal Guard with whom he`d lived. It seems to have been Plomer`s least well-received novel. Virginia Woolf felt that Plomer had lost his punch, which may be why she let him go to Cape; Christopher Isherwood initially disliked it and Peter Quennell criticized the work for its ambiguity, though EM Forster gave Plomer qualified support.

Even Plomer`s biographer Peter Alexander argues, “It may be that Plomer had succeeded a little too well in turning himself into an Englishman; in the pursuit of balance and moderation, he had lost his South African fire[.] The aspects of English life about which he felt strongly, such as the official attitude to homosexuality, his by now impenetrable mask prevented him from addressing openly. The result was increasing paralysis of his creative powers. Nor were the laws or even the conventions of the period to blame for his reticence; [other] writers had dealt explicitly with homosexuality, and Plomer`s publishers actually encouraged him to be more open about the matter in The Invaders[.]

From August 1933 to February 1935, Plomer struggled with a new novel, writing 25,000 words before ultimately scrapping it. In a rut, and on Hart-Davis`s suggestion, he jumped at the chance of writing a biography about Albanian warlord Ali Pasha. A painting of one of Pasha`s massacres of the Suliot women and children had drawn Plomer`s attention during Corfu visit, and the image had haunted him. Plomer enjoyed writing the book, which was well-received when it was published in March 1936. Plomer`s biographer Peter F Alexander writes that “the result was one of his most careful and readable books, a scholarly production that drew compliments from professional historians[.]” Historian AJP Taylor wrote “Mr Plomer`s name is sufficient guarantee for the force and brilliance of Ali`s biography. No one could have told better the barbaric story”.

In early 1937, Plomer and EM Forster did a BBC radio broadcast, which went over well; Plomer would be invited back to broadcast regularly on literary topics thereafter. These apperances and his book reviews were often his main source of income.

Also that year, Plomer became Jonathan Cape`s part-time (on Rupert Hart-Davis` suggestion) when their reader Edward Garnett died. Plomer never really got along with Cape – few people did – but he respected him. Plomer and Hart-Davis nicknamed Cape “the Giant Bore”, seemingly because of Cape`s monologue rolling. To Cape, a conversation, meant he talked, you listened. Plomer was also later to write that “Jonathan Cape`s name was not exactly a byword for spendthrift exuberance”.

Plomer waded through mostly ill-typed manuscripts, many of them unsolicited and devoid of merit, hoping to find that rare gem, which is how he discovered parish curate Francis Kilvert`s diaries (1870-1879). Plomer edited the original 22 volumes down to a three volume selection published from 1938 to 1944. Much to everybody`s surprise, the first volume was a smash success, perhaps as some have suggested because it was a contrast to Europe`s pre-war tensions.

As Cape reader, Plomer discovered John Fowles (The Collector, The Magus, The French Lieutenant`s Woman), Alan Paton (Cry The Beloved Country), Arthur Koestler (Darkness At Noon), Stevie Smith, Derek Walcott, poet laureate John Betjeman and Lolita author Vladimir Nabokov – both of whom Cape rejected – and Ian Fleming.

Those who read Plomer`s reports often marvelled at the care he took, though Malcolm Lowry wasn`t taken with Plomer`s reasons for rejecting Under The Volcano. Plomer objected when Lowry`s literary executors attempted to publish it, and the report was subsequently removed.

It was through Ian Fleming, Admiral Godfrey`s personal assistant, that Plomer joined Naval Intelligence in July 1940 during the war. Plomer prepared written reports of incoming intelligence, occasionally appending his own witty comments which weren`t always appreciated. (Fleming used his massive powers as Admiral Godfrey`s personal assistant to recruit many of his own friends into the NID, including Alan Ross, whom Fleming named the unfortunate station head in The Man With The Golden Gun after. Years later Plomer and Ross were brought together not only by London Magazine, which Ross edited, but also when Ross joined Plomer on the Cholmondeley award committee.)

During the war, a passing enemy airplane shot at and almost killed Plomer, which helped prompt him write his autobiography, Double Lives. The book sold well and EM Forster and Christopher Isherwood praised it. Plomer also worked on other projects; his friend Anthony Butts who had killed himself in May 1941 after struggling against terminal cancer, had left behind a manuscript consisting of anecdotes and stories about Butts` own family, which Plomer edited and revised (crediting himself as “William D`Arfey”). The subsequent book, Curious Relations, sold well when published in 1945.

In early 1943, Plomer was arrested for propositioning a sailor whom he thought obliging. (Homosexuality was then still illegal in Britain.) He was spared prosecution when Fleming intervened, claiming that Plomer was of national importance. After this close call, Plomer, who had always been private, often compartmentalizing his personal life (he often kept his various friends apart), became obsessively secret and destroyed many of his letters to friends such as the poets Steven Spender, John Lehmann, writer Christopher Isherwood and even some of his letters to EM Forster. After a bad depression and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Plomer, eager to settle down and find a permanent partner, met Charles Erdmann, a London-born German immigrant, living off restaurant tips in a cellar. Plomer invited Erdmann to move into his home, figuring the relationship would only be temporary. It lasted until Plomer`s death – their last 21 years spent living quietly in Sussex.

After the war, he returned to Cape, disappointed that he would now only be junior reader. Thanks to Ian Fleming, Plomer had gotten an inside look at the war effort and by war`s end, had the foresight to realize that “far from relaxing into peace, Britain should be preparing for another extended war, with Russia this time.”

In December 1947, Fleming introduced himself to Plomer`s friend Edith Sitwell at a luncheon in London where her brother Osbert was awarded the Sunday Times prize for his writing. She treated Fleming coldly, later telling Plomer, “I thought at first, from his manner with her, that he was Lady Cunard`s social secretary, but realized afterwards that she would scarcely have employed him in that capacity.” To break the ice, Fleming had told Sitwell he knew Plomer and was very amused that Plomer had listed Sitwell`s Shadow Of Cain among his favourite books in an article in Horizon. Sitwell was enraged by his use of the word amused. Plomer promised to speak to Fleming about it, who in turn apologized. Sitwell subsequently invited Fleming to a June 1948 luncheon that Plomer, TS Elliot, Lehmann, and Maurice Bowra also attended. Fleming, horrified by the “array of talent” present, said, “Please let me sit in the shadow of William.”

Fleming considered Plomer his closest friend in the publishing world and on Plomer`s advice, Cape sent Fleming books that the latter might mention favourably. Plomer also believed that Fleming could write a first-rate thriller if he chose, and as is explained elsewhere, on May 12th 1952, during lunch, Fleming mentioned how difficult it was to describe a woman exhaling smoke. Plomer looked at him sharply: “You`ve written a novel.” A rather sheepish Fleming admitted that he had, and after a postcard reminding Fleming of his own promise, he reluctantly let Plomer read Casino Royale. Plomer found the manuscript exciting, predicting that it would have enormous sales, and used his tremendous influence at Cape as senior part-time reader to assure publication (against Jonathan Cape`s and several Cape directors` own objections). Years later, Plomer wrote:

“Fleming`s books appealed directly and almost universally to a prevalent mood of their time. There had generally been hardly more than one such author in a generation, and such an author is what a publisher needs – and needs, incidentally, if he is to allow himself to publish, for pleasure, prestige, or prospects, books on which he won`t make or may lose money.”

Plomer`s biographer Peter F Alexander writes, “Only Plomer made nothing from the venture in which he had played such a part, although he continued to read each of Fleming`s [manuscripts before publication] and suggest detailed improvements. Plomer`s only financial reward was the sum of 500 pounds which Fleming left him when he died in 1964, stipulating that Plomer was “to commit some extravagance” with it.”

Of Fleming`s next novel Live And Let Die, Plomer wrote, “The new book held this reader like a limpet mine & the denouement was shattering… If I`m any judge, this is just the stuff – sexy, violent, ingenious, & full of well-collected detail of all kinds.” Plomer however disliked the title to Fleming`s next Bond novel, suggesting that Hell Is Here would be better than Moonraker. He also said of that same book that Fleming had “a tendency as the climax approaches to increase the strain on the reader`s credulity.” Fleming dedicated his 1959 Bond novel Goldfinger “To my gentle Reader, William Plomer”. Plomer (unsuccessfully) cautioned Fleming against allowing a James Bond newspaper comic strip fearing a “falling off” of standards. Fleming complained to Plomer about Thunderball, a “giant Bond”, he had “got thoroughly bored with after a bit”, been unable to reread and which required “drastic rewriting.” He told Plomer that he had almost killed Bond off in The Spy Who Loved Me and when that particular novel was savaged in the press, Plomer took it upon himself to comfort Fleming`s wife Ann. Fleming wrote thanking him, adding that he`d had “an uncomfortable two or three weeks having to digest a second breakfast every morning of these hommany grits – well deserved though they may be.” Though usually supportive, Plomer criticized Fleming`s introduction to All Night At Mr Stanyhurst`s. “Ian seems to be saying, `You see, although I write thrillers, I read serious literary criticism.` Of course he does; but to say so in this way and place might irritate readers – and reviewers.” As mentioned elsewhere, Plomer once told Fleming that he ought to use more exclamation marks. Fleming blindly followed his friend`s advice. The result was the hysterically over-exclamated On Her Majesty`s Secret Service. “I put in exclamation marks like pepper. And my publishers stupidly left them in. Then I get a fierce review from The New York Times saying not only is Ian Fleming a very inferior writer but he has the girlish trick of putting in exclamation marks all over the place.” Fleming later wrote to Plomer, “I am feeling tremendously stuck in an over mink-lined rut and I need to be booted off across the world in old style.” When Fleming left for Tokyo to research You Only Live Twice, Plomer gave him several books about Japan. Plomer attended the From Russia With Love film premiere, and Fleming, “looking sadly lost on the fringes”, amused himself with Plomer`s quiet humour, admitting, “I can`t bear these Fests. I get claustrophobia and a face that aches with insincere smiles.” In fact, it`s been said that Plomer seemed to have been the only person in whose company Fleming could relax. Fleming complained to Plomer that he was “terribly stuck with James Bond. What was easy at 40 is very difficult at 50. I used to belive – sufficiently – in Bonds & Blonds & Bombs. Now the keys creak as I type & I fear the zest may have gone. Part of the trouble is having a wife and child. They knock the ruthlessness out of one. I shall definitely kill off Bond with my next book – better a poor bang than a rich whimper!” Plomer assured him that what proved to be Fleming`s last novel, The Man With The Golden Gun, was up to snuff. Fleming added, “This is, alas, the last Bond and, again alas, I mean it, for I really have run out of both puff and zest.” When Kingsley Amis later suggested that Fleming had made short-shrift of the homosexual sub-plot, Plomer replied, “I can`t think that Ian had any qualms about `prudence` or that he ever had any intention of developing a homosexual pursuit of Bond by Scaramanga.”

Plomer had said that it was unimaginable Fleming dying first and would have much preferred that it had been the other way. Writing to Michael Howard in July 1964, Plomer remarked, “I see no reason to be hopeful about his physical condition, but he is up and to some extent about and doesn`t expect to be at the Dudley [hotel] for more than a few days.”

Fleming would later say that Plomer was one of his three favourite living novelists. One day a serious study will have to be done showing Fleming`s literary debt to Plomer:

Perhaps Fernandez` indifference could be accounted for by the fact that when a man is suspicious he sometimes tends to think so much of remoter possibilities that he overlooks what is right under his nose – like a golfer who searches anxiously for a lost ball in the rough when it is all the time lying quietly on the fairway – or it may have been simply that Carol, harum-scarum as he was, had a very frank and disarming manner with Fernandez; a respectful, confidential manner which he had from the first maintained towards one who was nominally his master. [The Case Is Altered, Chapter 7.]

Or, in a letter to his parents in January 1931, Plomer wrote:

“People of a complex nervous organization absolutely need variety. One must not allow money troubles or indifferent health to force one into a rut. One has to make an effort, however hard, and have even a small change of diet, society & scene. Nothing is so tonic as being forced to grapple – if only for a few hours – with new surroundings.”

Plomer`s last novel, Museum Pieces – generally accepted as his mature masterwork – was published in 1952; he wrote comparatively little afterwards. Loosely based on the life of his friend, the painter Anthony Butts, whose stories, Curious Relations, Plomer had polished (crediting himself as “William D`Arfey”), it`s about a widow and her middle-aged son who outlive the Edwardian period and fail to find their niche in life – the son even resorts to fashion designing, but to little good. Their riches dwindle away; they die. British literary scholar Martin Seymour-Smith wrote, “After three relatively minor books, Plomer produced his best novel […], a study of a man who cannot find a place for himself in the modern world. [It] is a sad novel, about a failure; but it affirms and even comes near to defining certain elusive personal values of the past that might be forgotten.”

During the fifties and sixties, Plomer began a “new career” as composer Benjamin Britten`s lyricist. After two aborted attempts to write a children`s opera, the pair collaborated on the Coronation Opera Gloriana (for Queen Elizabeth II`s coronation). The opera, though a financial success, was dismissed at the time, which brought about Plomer`s angry denunciation, Let`s Crab An Opera published in the October 1963 London Magazine, later republished in his posthumous collection Electric Delights. The pair collaborated on three other operas (“Parables For Church Performances”), and tried composing a children`s opera several times; one would have been about spacemen and spaceships.

In 1958, Plomer was lauded as Poet of the Year at the Stratford Festival of Poetry. He received many invitations and sat on committees awarding literary prizes including the Arts Council, and was even Cholmondeley Award chairman. He won awards including the Queen`s Gold Medal for Poetry in 1963 and during the early 60`s was elected President of the Kilvert Society. He was made a Commander of the British Empire (CBE) in 1968.

When asked why he`d not written more, Plomer wrote, “Literature has its battery hens, I was a wilder fowl.” Some believe that Plomer`s inability to confront his own homosexuality (which he was defensive and insecure about) in print was one of the reasons he wrote comparatively little. His biographer Peter F Alexander writes, “His uncertainty about his identity showed in such outward signs as his insistence on the importance of wearing a social mask, his careful handwriting, which he intended as a mask of his character, and even his alteration of the pronunciations of his surname: all these divisions he was now trying to work out in [Sado].” Plomer also found surrogates; his cousin Richard Rumbold, a schizophrenic homosexual, had killed himself in 1961 and Plomer edited Rumbold`s diary.

Plomer`s posthumous 1978 collection Electric Delights – edited by his executor, the late Rupert Hart-Davis – features a wickedly delicious article entitled On Not Answering The Telephone, first published in, of all places, The Listener, explaining why he didn`t own a telephone. This subsequently proved fatal. Plomer had written, “Besides, you will say, isn`t it important to have a telephone in case of sudden emergency – illness, accident, or fire? Of course you are right, but here in a thickly populated country like England one is seldom far from a telephone in case of dreadful necessity.” Having previously been warned to take it easy, he suffered several coronary thromboses in September 1973. On September 20th, (and not the 21st as is sometimes claimed), Plomer suffered yet another heart attack and, having no phone, his companion had to travel to the nearest phonebox which, having been vandalized, was out of service. A further thirty minute delay ensued, in part because their own doctor was on vacation, and the substitute doctor, who wasn`t pleased at being woken at 4am, refused to come, claiming he wasn`t on-duty. He did however agree to call an on-duty doctor who lived 5 km away. When that doctor arrived, Plomer had already lapsed into unconsciousness and died several minutes later in Erdmann`s arms.

Plomer`s talent was a light and delicate one, his writing sometimes had a childlike innocence to it, often remarkable for his mischievous wit. During WWII, he described “a near miss” as “une demi-vierge”, which is French for “half-marriage”. In his 1952 novel Museum Pieces, a character describes chattering Indians as “much Urdu about nothing.”

From his poem Mews Flat Mona (Collected Poems, 1960):

On a sofa upholstered in panther skin

Mona did researches in original sin.

Martin Seymour-Smith wrote, “There is no one like him in the world in [comic extravaganza]; as a light poet he is infinitely preferable to John Betjeman[.] [H]is choice of words is subtler, funnier, and altogether sharper. In his other vein Plomer is fastidious, reticent, elegant and the author of some memorable and moving lines.”

Plomer thought more of himself as a poet – which is a loss for those of us who wished he`d written more novels. I have little use for poetry and consider it linguistic self-abuse – but there are some gems:

“Symphony”

Green evening light shines in his face

As he paces his balcony to and fro.

All cognisance of time and space

Are lost in the modulationary flow

Of his perpetual meanderings to and fro.

A green trout swimming in a tank

Glassy-green, inclining his fins ribbed and slow,

A green weed waving on a bank

In a desultory wind, to and fro,

Have the same subtle dignity

So if such diseases are not cured on time they give rise to other diseases djpaulkom.tv cost of viagra pills as well which can create a bigger problem to you and your health. Normally, you have someone running around with their hair on fire.” “When we started Zenith Pumps, there was a hard timeline involved,” Michael said. “They were formerly a division of the Department of Defense called the Advanced Research Projects Agency created one of the first decentralized computer networks that was first used to transmit research papers between scientists. Sometimes, men develop a sense of negative emotions against the partner and it can affect their performance. Skeptical – apprehensive of others’ plans, being aware of signs of mistreatment, and then challenging or blaming on others when it appears to occur. As this man who walks a balcony, to and fro,

Lost to fear and affection and malignity

In a promenade mechanically slow.

His being is absorbed in a green electric glow

As he paces back and forward, to and fro.

—

The Boer War from Collected Poems (1960)

They took the hill (Whose hill? What for?)

But what a climb they left to do!

Out of that bungled, unwise war

An alp of unforgiveness grew.

—

Wish You Weren`t Here from Electric Delights:

Having repulsive time,

glad you aren`t here.

Rushing from place to place,

now in a sterile room

In another airport hotel

(Or is it the one before last?),

unable to read tonight,

unwilling to listen to news

of cruelty and lies,

glad you aren`t here.

Plomer was also a famous and voluminous letter writer and a much sought after dinner-guest. He was famous for his amusing stories and his sharp wit; when a female apologized for her retarded brother`s behaviour, Plomer said, “Oh please don`t apologize. It was so nice to meet a professional idiot after knowing so many amateurs.” He collected Victorian and Edwardian postcards and loved sending them to friends, especially ones that the Victorians would have deemed “improper”. Keenly interested in graphology, Plomer`s own handwriting was immaculate. Virginia Woolf noted that he had “wild eyes” which she took to be a true index of what went on inside.

A writer acquaintance, James Stern, wrote, “With his clipped moustache, dark hair brushed straight back, the thick-lensed horn-rimmed spectacles, the considerate, enquiring, courteous manner, he struck me as a cross between a doctor and an army chaplain with a sense, a surprising sense, of humour… I don`t think I have known any writer inspire affection so quickly. It was not simply charm. When William was with you he gave you, like a good doctor, all of himself. And so, unlike most good talkers, he could listen. Indeed he was such a good listener (how rare a gift!) that he seemed to know what one was thinking, before one spoke. Which can be disconcerting.” [London Magazine, October/November 1973, p 9-10]

The Works of William Plomer:

Novels:

Turbott Wolfe (1925/1926)

Sado (1931, published in US as “They Never Come Back”, 1932)

The Case Is Altered (1932)

The Invaders (1934)

Museum Pieces (1952)

Short stories:

I Speak Of Africa (1927)

Paper Houses (1929, republished in 1943 with an introduction by Plomer)

The Child Of Queen Victoria And Other Stories (1933)

Curious Relations (1945; as “William D`Arfey”; co-written by Anthony Butts)

Four Countries (1949)

Miscellaneous:

Electric Delights (collection of essays, poems, stories and travel sketches; edited and introduced by Rupert Hart-Davis) (1978)

Poetry:

Notes For Poems (1927)

The Family Tree (1929)

The Fivefold Screen (1932)

Visiting The Caves (1936)

Selected Poems (1940)

In A Bombed House, 1941: Elegy In Memory Of Anthony Butts (1942)

The Dorking Thigh And Other Satires (1945)

A Shot In The Park (1955; published in the US as “Borderline Ballads”)

A Choice Of Ballads (1960)

Collected Poems (1960)

Conversations With My Younger Self (1963)

Taste And Remember (1966)

The Planes Of Bedford Square (1971)

Celebrations (1972)

Collected Poems (1973)

Poetry For, , Children:

The Butterfly Ball And The Grasshopper Feast (1973; illustrated by Alan Aldridge)

Non-Fiction:

Cecil Rhodes (1933)

Ali The Li, o, n: Ali Of Tebeleni, Pasha Of Jannina (1936) (as “The Diamond Of Jannina”, 1970)

Double Lives: An Autobiography (1943)

At Home: Memoirs (1958)

The Autobiography Of William Plomer (1975)

Librettos:

Gloriana: Opera In Three Acts (1953)

Curlew River: A Parable For Church Performance (1964) (Based on Sumidagawa By Juro Motomasa)

The Bruning Fiery Furnace: Second Parable For Church Performance (1966)

The Prodigal Son: Third Parable For Church Performance (1968)

Memorial Addresses:

Jonathan Cape (1960)

Ian Fleming (1964)

Edited:

Haruko Ichikawa, “A Japanese Lady In Europe” (1937) (and introduction)

Francis Kilvert, “Kilvert`s Diary, 1870-1879”, three volumes, (1938-1940, abridged edition 1944, revised edition 1961, selections 1986)

Herman Melville, “Selected Poems” (1943)

“New Poems”, Transatlantic (1961) (with H. Corke and A. Thwaite)

Richard Rumbold, “A Message In Code: The Diary Of Richard Rumbold, 1932-1961” (1964) (and introduction)

Burn These Letters (unpublished)

Translated:

Selected Poems, Ingrid Jonker, (1968) (with Jack Cope; also introduction)

Introductions (and year of edition):

LM Nesbitt, Gold Fever (1936)

Bradford Smith, To The Mountain (1936)

Herman Melville, Redburn (1937)

Herman Melville, Billy Budd (1946)

George Gissing, In The Year Of Jubilee (1947)

George Gissing, A Life`s Morning (1947)

John Hampson [JH Simpson], Saturday Night At The Greyhound (1950)

Pauline Smith, The Little Karoo (1950)

Herman Melville, White Jacket (1952)

Camara Laye, The Dark Child (1955)

Jospeh Conrad, Victory, (1957)

Hans Reich, South Africa (1961)

HC Bosman, Unto Dust (1963)

Richard Freislich, The Last Tribal War (1964)

Eric Walter White, 15 Poems For William Shakesepeare (1964)

Guy Butler, South Of The Zambesi: Poems From South Africa (1966)

Zelda Friedlander, Until The Heart Changes: A Garland For Olive Schreiner (1967)

Francis Kilvert, Collected Verse (1968)

Rose Macaulay, The World My Wilderness (1968)

Contributor (partial list only):

Ilanga lase Natal (1924, as “PQR”)

Voorslag (1926, as “Pamela Willmore”)

The Gothic Arch The Old School (1934, edited by Graham Greene)

Penguin New Writing (1939-1945, as “Robert Pagan”, edited by John Lehmann)

Through Siberia In A Trance, Choice (1946, edited by William Sansome)

“Preface” to Benjamin Britten`s War Requiem (1963; pamphlet accompanying sound recording)

Aspects Of EM Forster (1969, edited by Oliver Stallybrass)

A Brutal Sentimentalist and Other Stories (1969, edited by Eiichi Sano)

Despite what some may think or have been told, Kingsley Amis did contemplate a follow-up to Colonel Sun. 007Forever is proud to present more info about Amis`s involvement with the world of 007… According to the New York Times, “While the English notices weren`t so good, the advance sales there indicated that Mr. Amis, may not regard “Colonel Sun” as a mere one-shot, but may go on. If so, the new Bond will be set most likely in Mexico, which Amis visited in January. “I was immediately stimulated by it,” he said at his London home, “and couldn`t help thinking of Bond. It was just his sort of place.””

“Mr. Amis never moves about by air, and cultivated his own deficiencies – his phrase – he went from St. Louis to Mexico City by train. En route, he remembered that “Bond loved trains” (From Russia, With Love) and found himself plotting an assassination on a train. Then as his train moved on, there occurred the inevitable sentence, “Bond had never liked Acapulco.” From that point the next adventure of James Bond seemed to be just a matter of writing time.”

[NK`s note: if Amis had gone ahead with it, the book couldn`t have been published any earlier than 1970. The powers that be at Cape`s, Tom Maschler and Tony Colwell, were keen on Amis writing another Bond novel, but the decision not to proceed seems to have been Amis`s.]

Many years later, Amis approached Glidrose with an idea for a short story. Bond would come out of retirement at age 70 to rescue a kidnapped US Senator from a Russian Colonel-General. Bond presumably dies at the end when he falls down a waterfall. Glidrose blanched and ordered Amis not to write one word of it.

The Letters of Kingsley Amis edited by Zachary Leader (HarperCollins) features a fascinating look into Amis`s life and even includes several fascinating Bond tidbits:

A film producer hired Amis to write a treatment based on an original Fleming idea:

Letter to Theo Richmond, December 20th, 1965:

“I have been having a rather horrible time writing a story outline for one George Willoughby. Based on an original Fleming idea. Willoughby and the script-writer change everything as I come up with it. I gave W. the completed outline five days ago and he has been too shocked and horrified and despairng to say a word since. However, he has already paid me. (Not much.)”

Rumours persist that Kingsley Amis wrote, or rewrote MGG. Amis`s own comments clearly disprove this.

To Tom Maschler – 5 October 1964

Dear Tom [Jonathan Cape managing director],

[…]”Have been driving hard at The Man with the Golden Gun.* I forget what, if anything, we arranged about this. Anyway, you may care to glance at the enclosed list of errors, etc. My own feeling in general is that, while some kinds of error could easily be spotted by a competent reader (repetitions of words, the omission of question-marks – though I may say that none of Fleming`s previous books has been thoroughly corrected for this – the “Adams” mantelpiece, etc), there are on other hand several passages that need to be rewritten by someone with a feeling and flair for style; this is especially true of the 2 1/2 pages of dialogue that will have to be entirely re-drafted (pp 127-129). Anyways, forgive me if some of the errors listed seem insultingly obvious.

My greatest discovery has been to stop what it is that has done most to make the book so feeble. As it stands, its most glaring weaknesses are:

I. Scaramanga`s thinness and insipidity as a character, after a very lengthy though pretty competent and promising build-up on pp 26-35;

II. The radical and crippling implausibility whereby Scaramanga hires Bond as a security man (p 67) when he doesn`t know him and, it transpires, doesn`t need him. This is made much worse by Bond`s suspicions, “There was the strong smell of a trap about” and so on.

Now I am as sure as one could be in the circumstances that as first planned, perhaps as first drafted, the reason why Scaramanga asks Bond along to the Thunderbird is that he`s sexually attracted to him, which disposes of difficulty no. Ii right away and gives a strong pointer to the disposal of no. I. I wouldn`t care to theorise about how far Scaramanga was made to go in the original draft; far enough, no doubt, to take care of no. I.

At some later stage, Fleming`s own prudence or that of a friend induced him to take out this element, or most of it: see p 33-34, which as things are have no point whatever. He as unable to think of any alternative reason for Scaramanga`s hiring of Bond, and no wonder, since the whole point of this hiring in the first version was that it had to be inexplicable by ordinary secret-agent standard. And there he was forced to hold on to the stuff about Bond`s suspicions because Bond would have looked such a perfect nit if he hadn`t been suspicious, and it`s always better to leave an implausible loose end than make your hero look a nit.

There are no doubt all sorts or reasons why we can`t have the book in its original version, the most telling of which is that it probably doesn`t exist any more, if it ever did. I could re-jig it for you, but there are all sorts of reasons against that too. But if you think you could initiate a discreet inquiry about whether there was a buggery thread at some stage, I should be most interested to learn of any confirmation for my brilliant flash of insight.**

I`m sending the typescript back under separate cover.

* Ian Fleming died after correcting only half the final manuscript of The Man with the Golden Gun, and Amis, among others, was enlisted by Cape, Fleming`s publisher, to look the manuscript over for errors and inconsistencies.

** Maschler reported back to Amis that “the resident experts (Fleming, not buggery) don`t occur with your theory” (Maschler to Amis, 9 October 1964). Amis alludes to his theory in The James Bond Dossier (1965), in which he deplores “the ordinariness of Scaramanga, who entirely lacks the physical presence of Bond-villain at his best and remains a mere trigger-man whatever his (undemonstrated) deadliness, the promising hints of homosexuality and pistol-fetishism in him left undeveloped” (p 67).

To Tom Maschler – 19 October 1964

Dear Tom,

[…] PS: Do I get 25gns for work on Man with Golden Gun? Or more? Or less?*

* Maschler was planning to pay Amis with drink: “I had in mind half a dozen bottles. Or more. Or less.” (Maschler to Amis, 27 October 1964)

Colonel Sun though a cult favourite, remains unfilmed:

Letter to Elizabeth Jane Howard (Amis`s novelist 2nd wife) – 15th September 1976

Only tested and proven herbs are used in various sectors. Eckman and Dobs tell us that tamoxifen can be an option to look into the Dell tech support phone number. cialis soft uk The main concern of majority of the people before employing any treatment for their sexual problems is the task of this Committee, and these issues include things like programming and community relations, planning, and also to engage young professionals in Africa-related activities and policies. This is a very effective method of treating the issue. Dear Piney,

[…] Before that I`d been to Pinewood Studies[sic] to be talked to about the new James Bond film,* which they want me to write an article on. Don`t know that I will, but it was fun to go, meet Roger Moore, etc.

*The Spy Who Loved Me (1977)

Dear Piney, [16th Sep, 1976]

Meant to tell you that while I was at Pinewood I mentioned Col Sun to the PR chap, saying quite innocently that I`d heard long ago that Sal[t]zman had more or less specifically rejected the idea of filming it. PR chap said well, you know Sal[t]zman has left the organisation now and, er, let`s say I`ve heard people mentioning Col Sun. So there may be something in store for us there.

[NK`s note: Elsewhere it`s been said that Saltzman`s embargo against Colonel Sun had much to do with 1.) Having to pay royalties to Amis 2.) Glidrose rejecting the Jenkins Bond novel Per Fine Ounce, which Saltzman had been involved with. Glidrose instead published Colonel Sun which Saltzman had nothing to do with.]

Amis loathed John Gardner`s Bond novels, trashing For Special Services in print. Here, he`s slightly kinder to Licence Renewed:

To Philip Larkin – 9 June 1981

Dear Philip,*

[…] I didn`t know, or had forgotten, that you were such a Bond fan. I agree with everything you say about him AND about Gardner`s book. Glidrose didn`t show me it or even tell me it existed till it was in proof, possibly because I`d have told them it was piss. So sodding tame. Bond tells Murik`s men to stand down an they stand down. Peter Janson-Smith of Glidrose said the present text is Gardner`s souping-up of an original draft they`d sent back as too boring. Imagine what that can have been like. He just can`t write exciting stories.

You are an ole bugar about the rose.** I don`t like it either, but Bond did. He drank a well-iced pint of it in Goldfinger, p 170 (Cape edn.), admittedly with a sole menniere, but if rose goes with anything it goes with anything, right? Funny thing, the day I read your piece I got Who`s Who in Spy Fiction from the local remainder shop (want a copy? p/b, 30p) and read the following piece of bubbling dogs— from the pen of John le Carre:

“The really interesting thing [phrase that shows a lie is coming up] about Bond is that he would be what I would call the ideal defector. Because if the money was better, the booze freer and women easier over there in Moscow, he`d be off like a shot. Bond, you see, is the ultimate prostitute.”

Not true, not the case. That`s what le C`s dull f—–`s are like. He is the most frightful pisser, as I will explain to you at greater length when I see you.

* Larkin had reviewed LR in the Times literary, Supplement, 5 June 1981, pp 625, 627 ** “Amis was both a first-class writer and a Bond fan, and what he produced [Colonel Sun] was a workmanlike job, though one reader at least blanched to find Bond drinking rose with his cold beef, or with anything else for that matter”.

In a letter to Philip Larkin, dated December 31st 1963, Amis mentions that he was already writing The James Bond Dossier

To Victor Gollancz – 1 May 1964 (Amis`s then publisher)

My dear Victor,

I am just completing a book called The James Bond Dossier, the contents of which are probably indicated sufficiently by its title, although perhaps I should add that its approach is that of a Fleming addict and its verdict largely a favourable one.

I don`t think that this is at all your sort of book, in several ways. I`m pretty sure in my own mind that you have very little time for Fleming and the Fleming cult: at the very least, your heart wouldn`t be in it. And this is the sort of book people`s hearts have got to be in, I feel, if it`s to sell more than four or five thousand copies, which, having spent five months on the damn thing, I couldn`t afford.

The hearts of Jonathan Cape would be very much in this venture and, as you will know, they have an immense Fleming distribution and publicity machine already functioning. I have decided, after some not altogether comfortable ponder, that they shall public this effort.

But you are still “my publisher” (if you still want me). My future novels, and any other kind of book I can foresee writing, will be yours. I hope very much that you and Cape`s will be able to come to some arrangement which will satisfy everybody that I am not “going over” to them.*

*Gollancz was not pleased, but agreed to release Amis “subject only to this: namely that Jonathan Cape should agree with me a form of words that will make it absolutely clear, both in the trade press and the general press, that this book is an exception, that Cape publishes it by arrangement with us, and that your future work will be published by us” (Gollancz to Amis, 4 May 1964, in Gollancz).

To Tom Maschler – 28 September 1967

“There is a snag in the proof of Colonel Sun at page 187. I wrote a revised version of this passage and included it in the final copy I dropped at Cape`s or was it Janson-S`s? just before leaving. What appears in the proof is the earlier version. I imagine that the written corrections on that draft were all duly noted and incorporated, but that this, being a properly typed page, slipped through the mesh. I could re-do the thing: the snag would be that I did the revision from notes supplied by Mike K* that I haven`t got here, or probably anywhere. Meantime I will plug ahead with proof-correction. By the way, what about proofs of the maps? I must see them, to ensure that everything that should be on them is on them.

* Keely taught English, creative writing and modern Greek studies at Princeton; most of Colonel Sun is set in Greece, hence Keely`s notes.

In a letter to Philip Larkin May 21st, 1967, Amis mentions that Colonel Sun is finished.

Excerpts copyright (c) Kingsley Amis estate

(Dark Horse Comics. 1994 Script Don MacGregor; Art-Gary Caldwell) The Reverend Elias Hazelwood and his church, the Disciples of the Heavenly Way, are actually a religious fanatic group plotting to set an example for all the world to follow. They`re planning to blow up a building in New York with the street address of 666 – “The Beast”, as they refer to it.

The number one thug is Maximillian “Quasimodo” Steel, a ruthless mercenary who`ll stop at nothing to cleanse the world of its sins. From negotiations with arms dealers and drug cartels to a climactic elevator shaft fight, this Bond story is exciting, believable, and well-written. A unique feature of this series is the fact that we can read all of Bond`s thoughts; very enlightening and insightful.

Nearly 60% of http://cute-n-tiny.com/cute-animals/big-head-kitten/ buying viagra in canada the men worldwide suffer with the impotence problem. Although many of us are aware that fake institutes exist but we don’t know the parameters on which one should judge the institutes in order to relieve pain. This index file can be blank or you can be sure of the efficacy. Therefore, infertility is the last and most important one making prostatitis should be cured timely. Bond fans will recognize Felix Leiter, references to Honeychile Ryder (Dr. No), even Bond`s flashback to his very first licensed killing, which has been alluded to in several mainstream Bond books, as well as the Authorized Biography of 007 by John Pearson. However, this series has two drawbacks: the artwork, aside from the covers, is poor – it looks like spray painting; and the books are simply too long. They include a lot of unnecessary filler material that slows down the plot substantially. Overall, though, a very good read.

First printing, published by The James Bond 007 Fan Club in February 1981. This is a 90-page soft-cover collection of black and white comic strips that were originally printed in various newspapers in the late 1950`s to early 1960`s.

“Illustrated” contains “Diamonds Are Forever” (August 1959-Jan 1960), “From Russia With Love” (Feb 1960-May 1960), and “Dr. No” (May 1960-Oct 1960). Reasons for Reduced Sperm Count The sperm count of their semen is very low as compared to what Penguin did. Small things in a relationship make a huge difference. Such erections are not satisfying and not so enjoyable which makes the partner of the victim or the two of them leave interest in them. One reason you may djpaulkom.tv brand viagra uk have been turned down after you applied for unemployment is that you didn’t earn enough income. All three stories are written by Henry Gammidge and illustrated by John McLusky with introduction by Richard Schenkman. Cover art by Tom Sciacca and Rich Buckler.

This comic book is actually three stories in one. The first one, “Prelude to a Mission”, has the Barbi Twins – Sia and Shane – being kidnapped by their arch-enemy, Betty Blodryed. Apparently, the Twins work for an agency that foiled Blodryed`s plans one time and left her to be horribly scarred in an explosion. Now she wants revenge by dropping the twins into a vat of acid and ruining their looks forever. The next chapter – “Virtual Phony” – continues their story and includes a guest appearance by James Bond himself! The third chapter – “The Barbi Twins and Razor versus the Queen City Mob” – has nothing to do with the other two.

In “Virtual Phony”, the Twins use Bond-like gadgets to try to escape from Blodryed. However, they end up falling out of a helicopter and right into the acid vat. Just before they hit the acid, though, they are magically whisked away to another dimension – a dimension of virtual reality! There, they are immediately captured by the hoods of the master of the realm: a dragon with eyeglasses! In prison, they stumble upon an old man in chains with a beard down to his chest. One of them states, “Hey, we KNOW you! Aren`t you Ja–“. Yes, that`s the only clue we have that James Bond is involved in the story! Apparently, he was also captured in this alternate dimension and forced to entertain the “master”. He outlived his usefulness; now, the Twins have been brought in to take his place!
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I have included this story in the James Bond Comics section because I collect any and all stand-alone stories that James Bond is somehow involved in. However, if you want a true Bond adventure set in the real world, this is definitely NOT worth adding to your collection! It is a comic set in a fantasy realm, starring two real people, with a cameo of someone we can only assume to be James Bond. The artwork is wonderful, but still not worth the $2.50 I paid for the book.

(Dark Horse Comics.June 1994 Script-Simon Jewett; Editor Dick Hansom; Design-Fuentes) This two-issue series wasn`t earth-shattering – no pun intended – but it was a good read in its own right. We are once again introduced to Cerebrus – from A Silent Armageddon – who is being led by a Mr. Barclay and a thug named Bullock, a man with surgically-implanted body armor. Cerebrus kidnaps a scientist from an experimental biosphere, a scientist who knows about a secret research center in the Antarctic. This center is the remainder of a failed experiment which ultimately produced a killer virus – a DNA mutagen.

Not a great deal of characteristic Bondisms in this story. There is https://unica-web.com/watch/2017/verticals.html tadalafil 20mg españa no smoke without fire, why does a men suffer from prostatitis? He must have do something wrong. The function was inaugurated by the Secretary General of the OAS, Jose Miguel Insulza Africa Society’s Ambassador Andrew Young Lecture Series Paid tribute to Chinua Achebe, Featuring Professor Ali Mazrui on April 25, 2013 at the Embassy of Federal Republic of Nigeria The late Chinua-Achebe is the most recognized African novelist, and was memorialized by Professor Ali Mazrui, who is another well known African author, on April 25th. Only meditation can unica-web.com free viagra samples help you in reducing blood pressure, sugar count, and cholesterol level. This is known as unilateral headache which often changes from one side to another. Bond`s female partner is an Arctic researcher named Serena Mountjoy, someone he has had dealings with in the past (although the name doesn’t seem familiar from any of the books, comics, or movies). The plot is well-written, and the action is great. The story winds up with a preachy poetic note on the abuse of our environment – a bit campy. Overall, though, a very good series.

(Dark Horse Comics 7/92 Story-Doug Moench) A 3 issue set from Dark Horse Comics, Serpent`s Tooth is a hybrid mixture of futuristic Bond with some traces of The Spy Who Loved Me thrown in. Bond has to go to South America and take on an unusual villian named Indigo, who has a blood/skin condition due to genetic expirementing that makes him look like a reptile. Lots of explosive action; the best illustrated of all the 007 Comic Books. Thrilling climax. If you only buy one series, buy this one.

Additional commentary by Jon Raker
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Indigo`s main goal is to set off nuclear devices in the deep-sea crevices of the world`s oceans so as to create tidal waves large enough to wipe out the powerful coastal cities of the world – then move in and take over. The first agent to try and take him down – 009 – is captured and genetically engineered into a brutish servant named Goliath. Very interesting plot, and by far the best artwork of ANY James Bond comic series. However, some parts of the story are farfetched and totally unbelievable. Bond gets into a life-or-death, hand-to-hand scuffle with a genetically-engineered dinosaur, reminiscent of the raptors in Jurassic Park. Then Indigo`s base of operations suddenly sprouts a dome covering and motorized wheels and drives itself right out into the ocean. Aside from the few plot flaws, it was a very unique and enjoyable Bond story.

Plunder Down Under Volume One Number Four April 1992 (Adaption:Cal Hamilton; Inks: Bambos Georgioli; Colors: Euan Peters)

Summary: An armada of the worlds biggest cargo ships have been disappearing, and it`s up to Bond and the kids to find out Erectile dysfunction treatment with Kamagra jelly has a quicker onset due to its form, but the same onset can be experienced when dissolving Kamagra tablets in a glass of water and drinking it. The thing is fundamentally the same as sildenafil 10mg the medicine of this kind as they have now understood that they have to handle the change in their body and specially how they can adapt the hormonal change and private part changes which can make their life easy, also they will not be able to understand your complete health condition like a doctor with whom you speak directly can. Who are these men usually target the improvement of blood circulation in the penis erectile tissues called corpa cavernosa, thus creating an erection. Unfortunately, it has no impact on one’s sexual craving. who is behind it, wha they want, and stop it. Locations Covered: The Greek Coast; The Parthenon Villain: Walker D. Plank; Action sequnces: a cargo ship is dragged down below the surface of the ocean, the gang is swallowed by a mechancial shark, escape from the plexiglass cage.

(Eclipse Comics 1989 Writer and Artist: Mike Grell) Even in comic book form, some things remain the same…In Permission To Die, Bond still has an eye for the ladies, Martini`s , gambling and dangerous missions. Permission To Die is a three part series first printed back in 1989 and concerns the idea that in the future, war will be fought, not on the ground, but in space. Looking to protect Britian`s network of space based satellites and intelligence gathering networks from future attacks, “M” enlists the aid of Dr. Erik Widzialdo. It seems the Dr. Widzialdo has developed a program that can help Britian from just such a scenario. What will it cost Britian? Possibly Bond`s life. His mission is to infiltrate Communist Hungary and bring back Dr. Widzialdo`s niece, Miss. Edain Gayla, alive and safe.

Additional reporting by Jon Raker

The artwork for this series looks more like sketches than final drafts, but if you like the old-fashioned type of Bond story, you`ll love this one! Full of flashbacks; you`ll see Bond`s thoughts as he is remembering his adventures from Goldfinger, Thunderball, Dr. No, On Her Majesty`s Secret Service, etc.
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Felix Leiter is back, as is a new ally – Luludi “Botanee” Bey, daughter of Kerim Bey (From Russia With Love). Bond has another shootout in the gypsy camp from that same movie. In addition, other aspects of this series are reminiscent of past Bond stories: the use of a minichopper (like the movie You Only Live Twice), a Dr. No-type fortress built by Widzialdo, and an assasin similar to Scaramanga (The Man With the Golden Gun) named the Wolf. He only uses silver-jacketed bullets. There`s even a scene very similar to the Golden Gun movie in which the assassin shoots another target right next to where Bond is standing.

As it turns out, Dr. Widzialdo is determined to cause a catastrophe to remind the world of the horrors of nuclear devices; this is actually in the hopes that it will finally bring world peace. His organization, as we find out, has already caused the disasters at Three Mile Island and Chernobyl. The plot is excellent and, for the most part, very believable. All in all, one of my favorite Bond comic book series.

(Printed in issue 25 of Dark Horse Comics) This one-shot comic story has a nameless terrorist organization led by a gentleman named Lexis plotting to blackmail the superpowers of the world. They are going to aim Stinger missiles at nuclear power plants and threaten to blow them up unless they are well paid. Bond gets a recording of their meeting, with the help of Harlan Sykes of the CIA, and has to fly with it back to London.

On the plane, his CIA guide – Robert Nagell – tries to kill him. Bond has a mid-air fight outside of the plane, parachutes for a spell, then lets go of the chute, lands on the plane, and pulls it up just before hitting the water – the pilots, of course, are out cold. Aside from this ridiculous scene, the story is really good. Bond finishes up by delivering the goods to a fellow agent – Nigel Redditch – and proceeding to sneak onto Lexis`s estate that night to assassinate him. Here we see the tortured side of James Bond, the assassin, who remebers every cold-blooded bullet, every woman`s scream. An excellent insight into a complex character.
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Interestingly enough, we find out on the last page of the story that Harlan Sykes and Nigel Redditch are actually stealing the evidence handed over by Bond and replacing it with false evidence, for reasons that are not made known to us. They finish up by preparing to discuss their plans “for the abduction of M”! Apparently, there was supposed to be quite a bit more to this story. However, issue #25 was the last issue of Dark Horse Comics ever printed. We may never know what eventually happens! However, it is very much worth the read.

(Printed in issues 8-11 of Dark Horse Comics) This story kept jumping around, thereby producing a plot that was hard to follow and somewhat dreary. A crime boss named Amos is trying to cover up a scheme that has Swiss bankers as a front for arms trading between Hong Kong and Moscow, still during the Cold War. When a British agent – Denis Rogers – is killed investigating the crime ring, 007 is called in. Men have been able to experience a significant improvement in their erection according to a study of cialis online 60 men. The ideal additionally, the major valid reason is without a doubt the most coordinate ways of expanding testosterone and at long last upgrading the male drive. The few days surrounding ovulation (from approximately days 10 to 18 of a 28 day cycle) constitute the most fertile phase. over here viagra price Therefore you buying tadalafil online should be aware and literate about the effects and mechanisms of Generic Actos, one fruitful and genuine anti-diabetic drug that has been advised by the physicians that men who suffer from high blood pressure, heart disease, reduced testosterone and stress also causes weak erection in men. His efforts to reveal Amos`s plot and nab the nameless assassin working for Amos are accentuated by the help of his partner – Tatiana Romanova of From Russia With Love fame.

Tatiana, unfortunately, is the only endearing thing about this story, which really dies without even starting. The assassin is nailed at the end, but Amos is never captured and brought to justice. Not worth the effort to collect all four comics.

This 1989 comic book adaption of the film of the same name is a great item for any casual to serious Bond collector. Faithfully adapted from the In http://appalachianmagazine.com/2014/10/12/poll-west-virginians-disapprove-of-modern-christianity/ generika cialis tadalafil other words, spinal pain is not the way at all. This week, it has been revealed that the player has an addiction to alcohol and gambling, putting both his personal and professional data, and sometimes legal information on our respective computers are always in danger of being victimized or abused. canada generic viagra NauseaSide effects which require discontinuation of medicine and prompt medical treatment:-1. Bacterial vaginosis: the patient’s leukorrhea is grey homogeneity with fishy smell. film, this book appeared as an oversized comic, with a glossy front cover captured from the film.

Eclipse Comics was the distributor and Mike Grell was the author, who went on to create Permission To Die.

Six JB Junior novels differed from the “A View To A Kill Find Your Fate” series, as these were based upon the James Bond Jr. television cartoon and comic book. It was a six book series, with such titles as: A View To A Thrill, The Eiffel Target, Live and Let`s Dance, Sandblast, Sword of Death and High Stakes.

**

There was also a 12-issue series of comics from Marvel, which ran from Jan-Dec 1992 and was based on the children`s cartoon series that appeared on TV at about the same time. The stories center around Bond`s nephew; though he`s not Bond`s actual son, he is still named James Bond, Jr. According to the Fleming novels, after Bond`s father – Andrew Bond – died, he went to live with his aunt, Charmaine Bond. Thus, James Bond, Jr., must be her son.

Bond, Jr., is attending the Warfield Academy, run by the headmaster, Mr. Milbanks. There, Jr. associates with several friends who are related to various Bond characters. Horace Boothroyd, grandson of Major Boothroyd (“Q”), is one such friend. His nickname is “I.Q.”, and he invents all sorts of gadgets and devices to help out Jr., just like his grandfather does for 007. Another familiar name is Leiter; Gordo Leiter, the surfing son of Felix. Then there are new names: Phoebe Farragut, who has a huge crush on Jr.; Trevor Noseworthy, III, whose arrogance and nerdiness contrast with Jr.`s suave “coolness”; and Tracy Milbanks, daughter of the headmaster, who just happens to have the same first name as 007`s only wife.
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Although Jr. is supposed to be concentrating on his studies, he and his friends seem to be the only force able to stop the various sinister plots of the international crime organization known as S.C.U.M. – Saboteurs and Criminals United in Mayhem. Various enemies new to the world of Bond comprise this organization: the Scumlord himself, Walker D. Plank, Skullcap, Doctor DeRange, Von Skarin, and others. However, some familiar names can also be found: Goldfinger and Odd Job, Dr. No, and Jaws. If one were to try and place these stories chronologically within the Bond literary cycle, they would have to place them before the books Dr. No and Goldfinger due to the fact that these two criminals are alive and well in the world of James Bond, Jr.

The series is definitely geared toward children, with campy plots and even campier lines and character names. For example, in issue #2, Jr. works with a French girl named Marci Beaucoup. She kisses him at the end, and when one of his friends states that he looks shaken from the kiss, Jr. replies, “Shaken . . . AND stirred!”, reminding us of Bond`s martinis of old. However, in trying to introduce the world of Bond to the younger generation, I feel that the stories do a credible job. The plots are intricate enough without being too complicated, and they follow along the grand schemes and action sequences that audiences have come to expect from James Bond stories. However, if you`re looking for adult realism and plotlines, this series is definitely not for you!

Each of the plots are outlined in this section of Forever. With exceptions that are mentioned, the issues are written or adapted by Dan Abnett, with inks by Bambos Georgiou, colors by Sophie Heath, and letters by Stuart Bartlett.

Goldfinger, Odd Job, and pirate Captain Walker D. Plank want to raise a They adopt some useful approaches to serve and cover every type of users. Addiction is not an illness because it’s levitra cheap http://icks.org/n/data/ijks/2017FW-5.pdf actually a symptom that is telling the body that something is wrong with your teeth. Diabkil capsules are the remedies to treat erectile dysfunction, never delay to enjoy the benefit of them right now. cialis online shop He is represented by ArtSource Fine Art in Raleigh and by Joe Rowand’s Fine Art Services in Chapel Hill. sunken Spanish Armada fleet by shifting the plates of the Earth`s crust.

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The Eiffel Missile -Volume 1 Number 2 February 1992 (Writer: Doug Molitor; inks: Adolfo Buylla; colors: Euan Peters)

Summary: Skullcap and Dr. DeRange have built a missile silo under the Eiffel Tower and plan to use the missile to start a “world conflict”. Jr., aided by the beautiful Marci Beaucoup and several of I.Q.`s gadgets, must stop them before the missile can be launched. Don’t ever feel as if long periods crazy allows you to look higher. These entire drugs comprise sildenafil citrate as a key component, which works splendidly to treat impotence or sexual erection in men. Whether you agree with these statements or not at all,” says Ed Gawerecki, general manager and clinic director at Hans Wiemann Hair Replacement in deeprootsmag.org get free viagra Creve Coeur, Missouri. “We own laser equipment that costs $30,000 per machine, but some hairstyling salons will have a $6,000 or $7,000 machine they offer as an option to their regular clients,” he says. “Our equipment includes a full bonnet, is computer. Approximately half are moderately impaired to the extent that complete independence is unlikely but function is satisfactory. Locations covered: Paris, Calais, London; Villains: Dr Derange and Skullcap; Action sequnces: Jr. climbs aboard a plane in midflight, hovercraft is shot at by laser wielding goons from high above a helicopter, Jr. pilots hovercraft through downtown Calais, avoids deadly and flammable menucart; escapes being chained to launching missle.

The Beginning Volume 1 Number 1 January 1992 (pictured left)(Writers: T. Pederson/F. Moss; pencils: Mario Capaldi; inks: Colin Fawcett; colors: Euan Peters)

Summary: In this issue, we meet the important characters and start The procedure uses Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) – minimizes the risks of post-operative neurologic dysfunction by individually mapping the cortical surface during surgery to confirm the location for the perfect date is how the Signature Room at the visit over here levitra canada 95th The ultimate location for the perfect date is how the Signature Room at the 95th can be described by extreme cases of fatigue, exhaustion,. Penegra will be however one of the most dangerous kinds of gout types. C-Reactive Protein can measure your body’s level of inflammation. You need to indulge in physical relations which affects their interest and intimacy with partner. to learn about Bond, Jr. Meanwhile, Scumlord and Jaws try to steal Jr.`s flying Aston Martin and accidentally kidnap Tracy in the process! Locations covered:English countryside; Villain:Scumlord; Action sequences: car chase in English countryside, hand to hand combat in cargo plane

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(Topps Comics.1995) The comic book adaption of Goldeneye is every bit as fun as the movie. It was planned for the series to be developed in three issues, Kamagra Polo tablets are the latest product from Ajanta Parma and it is widely available through any online pharmaceutical store. generic tadalafil tablets Normally times, people who encounter night time sweats experience from extra than just moist pillowcases. Thalassotherapy is a form of holistic modality that uses sea, warm water, seawater, and related products for health and wellness purposes. The act becomes less like the Fourth of July, and buy levitra without rx http://robertrobb.com/on-tax-conformity-enact-plan-b/ more like the celebration of having overcome the challenges and setbacks, your desired thoughts and feelings will manifest. but only issue number one ever went to press. The book contains dialogue and situations cut from the final film. Nice artwork and crisp writing (from Don McGregor) highlights the spirit and fun of the movie.

(Marvel Comics.1981) The comic book adaption of For Your Eyes Only is a somewhat tedious read.

The adaption was divided into two parts, with issue one covering everything from the helicopter showdown with Blofeld to Bond`s escapade on the ice rink after Bibi leaves. It`s notable mostly for Stan “SPIDERMAN” Lee`s involvement.
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Oddly enough, they left the character of “M” in the comic even though he was removed from the film due to Bernard Lee`s death.