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Perhaps the most notable thing about this installment of the James Bond thrillers is that almost no part has been used in the famous film series; the 1979 picture employs the title, the name of the villain and his rocket, but otherwise there are actually more (if fleeting) similarities to be found in the 2002 entry Die Another Day. With that in mind, one would expect this to be a purely forgettable pulp novel with few redeeming qualities. Yet, in reality, the reverse is actually true.
Although the bridge showdown of Moonraker lacks the tension of the baccarat in Casino Royale, the two sequences do share Fleming's skill with pacing, and the scheme of Bond infiltrating Drax's rocket project is both more believable and more cohesive than either previous novel. The scope of the novel is simply smaller; there are no exotic settings, no mad bombers, and no pet sharks, all of which keeps Bond grounded a little bit more firmly in reality. As usual, it all starts to drag a bit once Bond sets his eye on the girl of the piece, undercover policewoman Gala Brand, but even then there are some very fine adventure set pieces during the countdown to the rocket launch. Plus, the sexism is held relatively in check, with most of Fleming's narrative sneer reserved for the Germans - a reasonable enough target in 1950s Britain.
Although the bridge showdown of Moonraker lacks the tension of the baccarat in Casino Royale, the two sequences do share Fleming's skill with pacing, and the scheme of Bond infiltrating Drax's rocket project is both more believable and more cohesive than either previous novel. The scope of the novel is simply smaller; there are no exotic settings, no mad bombers, and no pet sharks, all of which keeps Bond grounded a little bit more firmly in reality. As usual, it all starts to drag a bit once Bond sets his eye on the girl of the piece, undercover policewoman Gala Brand, but even then there are some very fine adventure set pieces during the countdown to the rocket launch. Plus, the sexism is held relatively in check, with most of Fleming's narrative sneer reserved for the Germans - a reasonable enough target in 1950s Britain.