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belgianwaffle 's review for:
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
by Ian Fleming
I forgot how much literary Bond is consumed with ennui and complaining about the wine list. And how many more frosty lesbians (who might later melt in a real man's arms) he met on paper. But still, it's fun to read these books and see how the plots and characters got mashed up together in to the films that occupied so much of my youth.