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The one and only Ian Fleming is of course the author and his biography is a spy novel in itself, especially his wartime service with British Naval Intelligence.
I’ve grown up with the James Bond movies, I used to go downtown on the bus and watch Bond double-features continuously and stagger out five hours later, my head reeling with Bond music, humming on the bus home.
I’ve also read as many James Bond books as I have come across, starting with Ian Fleming’s writings, then the numerous other writers who have carried on the “shaken, not stirred” tradition. I’ve even read the juvenile books of James Bond and his adventures before he was assigned his “007”. Great books as well.
‘A dry martini,’ he said. ‘One. In a deep champagne goblet.’
‘Certainly monsieur.’ The barman seemed pleased with the idea.
‘Gosh, that’s certainly a drink,’ said Leiter.
Bond laughed. ‘When I’m … er … concentrating,’ he explained, ‘I never have more than one drink before dinner. But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold, and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink’s my own invention. I’m going to patent it when I think of a good name.’Casino Royale, Chapter 7
I drove home yesterday and wondered how many millions of men daydreamed adventures as Bond. Not the fights on the train like “From Russia With Love” but the other more seductive (shall we say) aspects of his lifestyle (not the killing). I have decided it would be “jillion” of us guys, give or take a billion.
Reality hit me and I realized (again) that I’m not a James Bond, or MI6 agent, regardless I am a fan, assign me my own number – possibly 004.