Come along, Mr. Benson. Stop watching Bond movies and read Fleming's classic novels to find out what the character is REALLY all about.


If you like Fleming, give Benson a pass   July 13, 2002
 6 out of 8 found this review helpful

How did Raymond Benson convince a publisher to print this garbage? This, in every sense, is a poorly written novel. The writing reminds me of a very earnest 10th-grader. This books' title character bears NO relationship to the James Bond created by Ian Fleming. I realize that the James Bond films have influnced millions of readers. Fine. That, however, is no excuse for a story that reads like a (bad) action-movie screenplay. Mr. Benson has created a poorly realized, Americanized Bond that has nothing in common with the original character.
I could keep going, but the review only allows 1000 words. In short: This book is a pathetic attempt to capitalize on the James Bond franchise. Read Fleming. Or watch one of the movies, but don't waste your time on this book.


Bad. Very Bad.   September 20, 1999
 5 out of 5 found this review helpful

That so many previous reviewers have given this book high marks shows how far our literary standards have fallen. I give it one star only because Amazon hasn't provided for a zero-star rating. The story was trite and embarrassingly derivative of Fleming's Bond stories. But above all, the writing is horrendous. This book would have improved 100% if Benson had simply hired someone with average writing skills to do a sentence-by-sentence rewriting. Again, I am appalled than so many of you actually think this is a good book.


Ian Fleming is spinning in his grave   August 12, 2001
 5 out of 6 found this review helpful

After reading Benson's first effort at a Bond novel, I thought I would give him another chance to show me that he is a worthy heir to Fleming. Unfortunately, "The Facts of Death" was so terrible I couldn't even bring myself to finish it, and it convinced me that his Bond is no better than Gardner's cardboard, stereotypical, Hollywoodesque version.

I at least sensed from the first Benson/Bond adventure that Raymond was excited about writing his first Bond novel, but already in this, the second in his series, I sense that he is tiring of the assignment. This is evidenced by the trite, cliched locales that seem to be inspired more by Pinewood Studios than Casino Royale or Dr. No. The dull action scenes 1) are reminiscent of so many juvenile action movies, and 2) require the kind of suspension of reality that Fleming either never demanded of us, or, was at least able to pull off by fully fleshing out Bond's character and the scene's details. (Typical example of Benson's style: Bond tries to track someone down by jumping into the back of the bad guy's pickup truck as he pulls away and heads toward his hideout. Now, we've certainly never seen THAT before! And naturally, the driver would never even sense that an adult male had just dumped himself into the back of the truck.)

One of the most enjoyable aspects of the Fleming series was characters like M. Good old Sir Miles Messervy is gone, and now Bond has a repulsive female boss that he can look down his nose at with disdain and disgust - along with the readers. Imagine a plot device utilized by Ian Fleming that would have M giddy with romance and the object of his affections subsequently getting bumped off. I can't either, but evidently "Fleming-expert" Benson can, and that's why I believe poor Ian is spinning in his grave

The literary device of contemporizing Bond which began with Gardner is utilized and is every bit as nauseous with Benson. In addition to everything else, we have to visualize Bond and Leiter in their 70s by now.

Consider this scene, all you devotees of Ian Fleming, and tell me you would be satisfied with Benson's Bond. The run-down, decrepid Leiter and his gorgeous babe (now, that's believable!) take Bond out for a dinner of tacos and margeritas. Convince me that Ian Fleming would approve of that scene! As I was reading, I was begging with the print on the page to have Bond playfully tell Leiter where he could stick his margerita and instead order one of his favorite stiff drinks. But, this was too much to hope for, as Bond ends up actually enjoying the kind of meal that Ian Fleming would have Bond digesting only at the point of a gun. Before you know it, we'll have Bond scarfing greasy burgers and fries with undisguised gusto and slurping diet pop through a straw, while grousing that they forgot to include the toy in his kid's meal.

Anyway, those scenes just about size up the book. If you're a fan of Fleming, forget it. Those days are gone and are not coming back any time soon. If you love the tiresome comic book Bond of the movies and no end of cliches, this may live up to all your expectations.

The biggest disappointment is that Benson was built up to be an expert on Fleming. After reading his first two attempts at Bond novels (my last) I really have to wonder if they meant PEGGY Fleming.


NOT EVEN JAMES BOND CAN RESCUE THIS   October 14, 1999
 4 out of 4 found this review helpful

In Raymond Benson, Gildrose have chosen the wrong person to succeed Ian Fleming, Kingsley Amis and John Gardner. Where those three have a writing style that is taut and gripping, Benson is lacklustre and flabby.

Unlike just about every previous Bond novel, you don't particularly want to turn the page. For me at least, it took a lot of patience to finish this woeful piece of Bond fakery.

Benson's Bond is full of American phrases which sit uneasily with Bond's half-Scottish, half-Swiss parentage. Reading this novel, you'd think that Benson has never set foot in the UK, so poor is the attention to detail.

Attention to detail made the other Fleming, Amis and Gardner novels more than just action thrillers. How sad that Gildrose could not find a decent author to continue the Bond canon. If you are seeking post-Fleming Bond novels, my advice is to check out the Bond novels by John Gardner. Better still, get a copy of 'Colonel Sun' by Kingsley Amis (writing as Robert Markham).