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neilrcoulter 's review for:
Moonraker
by Ian Fleming
The only reason I began listening to this series of James Bond audiobooks is to get to this volume and hear Bill Nighy reading it. The readers of the two previous books were fine (Dan Stevens and Rory Kinnear), but to say that Nighy is the best reader is like saying a perfectly prepared prime rib is better than a Big Mac; there’s just no competition, really. For me, Nighy will forever be Samwise Gamgee, and his reading of Moonraker confirms that he is an amazing voice performer, not only of one character through an entire audio drama but of multiple characters in a novel. He brings in much more distinction of dialects for the characters, and it’s never a challenge to tell who’s talking at any given point.
The story itself is interesting. After two novels in which the villains and the stakes seemed surprisingly bland for an international super-spy, Moonraker is the first story that’s worthy of what I expect of Bond: a Cold War plot crafted by underground Nazis who seek revenge on the West and so partner with Russia to launch a nuclear warhead on London. That’s the kind of stuff I’m looking for in a cheesy, pulpy spy thriller. It’s a plot that in many ways would be right at home in the John Pertwee era of Doctor Who.
My complaint about the first two Bond novels is that Bond himself was incredibly clueless, missing obvious details that every reader picks up on many pages before he himself slaps his forehead and says, ‘Oh my! He really was up to no good!’ This book . . . well, it’s more of the same. The most astounding moment is when Bond catches someone going through his room, so he tosses the guy against a desk and injures him—but then he lets him run away, and Bond brushes it off with a casual, ‘Wellll, you know . . . he’s probably just one of those types of guys who enjoys going through other people’s stuff. No harm done, really. I don’t even need to mention it to anyone.’ Does that guy turn out to be an undercover Nazi who is working to annihilate London? Yes. I say, good show, Mr. Bond.
Something that intrigues me about these novels, and that I wasn’t expecting, is Bond’s attitude toward women. Obviously, there is a surface of misogyny; there’s no getting around that, nor is there any excuse for it. But deeper than that, the character becomes more interesting. Because though he is impatient with women in general, and often dreams longingly of getting away with some woman or other, what Bond seems to be seeking most desperately is the woman, a woman he will propose to and spend the rest of his life with. And what makes him take notice of a woman is not simply her physical beauty (though of course each woman he works with in the series just happens to be physically stunning; sigh), but her intelligence and professionalism. He’s seeking someone he can regard as an equal, not a subordinate or a mere “trophy.” Each of the books has had a moment in which Bond believes he is about to pop the question and begin a married life, which is what he most wants. In each book, that dream is thwarted, and Moonraker is the most interesting. In the end, he doesn’t get the girl, and he has to confront his assumption that surely any woman would be thrilled to have his attention. No, he realizes, it’s not true. Everyone has her own story, and he’s not nearly so important as he wishes to believe. It’s a surprisingly touching conclusion to the novel.
As a side note: I haven’t seen the movie version of this book, but because the movie poster features James Bond in a spacesuit, I was totally expecting this story to go into space at some point. It does not. At all.
The story itself is interesting. After two novels in which the villains and the stakes seemed surprisingly bland for an international super-spy, Moonraker is the first story that’s worthy of what I expect of Bond: a Cold War plot crafted by underground Nazis who seek revenge on the West and so partner with Russia to launch a nuclear warhead on London. That’s the kind of stuff I’m looking for in a cheesy, pulpy spy thriller. It’s a plot that in many ways would be right at home in the John Pertwee era of Doctor Who.
My complaint about the first two Bond novels is that Bond himself was incredibly clueless, missing obvious details that every reader picks up on many pages before he himself slaps his forehead and says, ‘Oh my! He really was up to no good!’ This book . . . well, it’s more of the same. The most astounding moment is when Bond catches someone going through his room, so he tosses the guy against a desk and injures him—but then he lets him run away, and Bond brushes it off with a casual, ‘Wellll, you know . . . he’s probably just one of those types of guys who enjoys going through other people’s stuff. No harm done, really. I don’t even need to mention it to anyone.’ Does that guy turn out to be an undercover Nazi who is working to annihilate London? Yes. I say, good show, Mr. Bond.
Something that intrigues me about these novels, and that I wasn’t expecting, is Bond’s attitude toward women. Obviously, there is a surface of misogyny; there’s no getting around that, nor is there any excuse for it. But deeper than that, the character becomes more interesting. Because though he is impatient with women in general, and often dreams longingly of getting away with some woman or other, what Bond seems to be seeking most desperately is the woman, a woman he will propose to and spend the rest of his life with. And what makes him take notice of a woman is not simply her physical beauty (though of course each woman he works with in the series just happens to be physically stunning; sigh), but her intelligence and professionalism. He’s seeking someone he can regard as an equal, not a subordinate or a mere “trophy.” Each of the books has had a moment in which Bond believes he is about to pop the question and begin a married life, which is what he most wants. In each book, that dream is thwarted, and Moonraker is the most interesting. In the end, he doesn’t get the girl, and he has to confront his assumption that surely any woman would be thrilled to have his attention. No, he realizes, it’s not true. Everyone has her own story, and he’s not nearly so important as he wishes to believe. It’s a surprisingly touching conclusion to the novel.
As a side note: I haven’t seen the movie version of this book, but because the movie poster features James Bond in a spacesuit, I was totally expecting this story to go into space at some point. It does not. At all.