Writing a novel is a tough business. I speak from some personal experience, having had a crack at it on a number of occasions and never quite finishing. And received wisdom suggests that my struggles are far from unique. In fact I would likely have been unique had I not struggled.
So how much harder would it be to write in somebody else's voice? Another writer's style? Harder still following a legendary story-teller with a much-loved character while the eyes of the world are upon you...
So first up, a big tip of the hat to Sebastian Faulks for his bravery in taking the Fleming Centenary project. It seems to me he had a great deal more to lose than gain in this enterprise. I have assiduously avoided reading any of the reviews of this book so far as I did not want to be influenced in any way by what I read. But I just bet there were a ton of people out there waiting to pounce on Faulks and flunk him on his test. And probably not charitably either.
So I'll start the review by saying I enjoyed Devil May Care. Enjoyed it enormously. It was conceived and written in the spirit of Ian Fleming and represents a fitting tribute to James Bond's creator, a century after his birth.
The choice of story was bold and interesting. Devil May Care, with its focus on the nascent global narcotics industry in 1967, cast Bond and his organisation into the future to some extent. While it was still the Cold War and the Russians are influential, if invisible, actors in the story, the set-up feels like a step-change for Bond and M: a new enemy in a changing world.
There are some interesting early moments when Bond is out and about in London, bewildered by the hippy movement.
But in Paris there is a more familiar sight: a grotesque enemy, with a hatred of Britain, a physical defect (in this case a sort of bizarre monkey's hand), great personal wealth and resources and consequently the ability - and the diabolical imagination - to strike hard. (And if that all sounds a lot like Sir Hugo Drax, the "star" of Moonraker, well it felt a lot like Drax redux reading it.)
Bond has an early meeting with Julius Gorner across a tennis net, and this initial "feeling out" scene is one of the most enjoyable in the book. Faulks describes the tennis match with a sportsman's eye for psychology, for the intangible yet very real shifts in momentum that these contests hold. There is also some extraordinarily brazen and creative cheating.
The early stages of the book are generally strong, and the recreation of Fleming's world is meticulous and faithful. The exception to that is the development of Bond himself, which Faulks never quite moves beyond a two-dimensional caricature. For those of us who grew up with Bond as the cartoon character of the Roger Moore and beyond film era, Fleming's Bond is a surprisingly complex and subtle creation, which Faulks does not satisfactorily capture.
He has more success elsewere. Gorner is a worthy adversary and suitably egomaniacal and ambitious villain. Scarlett Pavata is an engaging and elusive Bond girl, while Darius Alizadeh provides local colour and commentary as Bond's Tehran contact.
The plot is carefully developed, taking Bond from Paris to Tehran - entirely new territory - and the fact that it is fantastical is not a problem (as it never was for Fleming) and the Persian scenes are evocative and highly atmospheric.
There are classy cars, unfeasible military vehicles, guns, car chases and martinis, and all in all they provide quite a ride.
But there was one sour note towards the end. Without wanting to give away too much, Bond and Scarlett complete their adventure with a wholly unlikely escape trek across thousands of miles of Soviet Russia. If getting about the country was that straightforward in the 1960s the Cold War would have ended then and there.
All considered, this was a fine effort from Faulks who is a long way outside his natural territory and pretty far removed from his comfort zone. His book is lively and concise.
Before its publication it was suggested that perhaps this Centenary project could serve as a template for other writers to add their chapter to the Bond story with new novels. I would suggest not. This was a fine idea and honours Fleming, but in truth the adult Bond is best left to him while those seeking a little extra might be best served by visiting Charlie Higson's Young Bond series.
