Casino Royale - Ian Fleming

Nothing beats the original. Casino Royale proves that.

Ian Fleming's first venture into the life of James Bond is, to say the very least, a fascinating read that, when compared to the modern-day amped-up film version featuring the scrumptious Daniel Craig and an Aston Martin with a V12 engine, allows the classic elements of Fleming's timeless series to come back.

Not that there's anything wrong with Daniel Craig. Or an Aston Martin. Or Daniel Craig in an Aston Martin.

However, there is no pleasure like falling deep into Fleming's brilliantly constructed detailing and scenery, absorbing the full meaning of Bond's settings and actions. Much like its film version, Fleming's account of the baccarat match between Le Chiffre and 007 can send one's heart into a flurry, with tiny twists that have enormous impact. And though the mysterious Vesper Lynd's demise doesn't match the book's, the 181-page thriller's version is just as stirring, answering questions and raising many more.

It took me a while to get through this book because of time constraints, but it was worth the time spared. I'm not much for the shoot-'em-up genre, but Fleming's writing is much deeper and more detailed than any meaningless action tale. Casino Royale delivers a power not often found in many hero-villian-damsel stories. Fleming's penetration into Bond's mind as he contemplates the truth behind right and wrong ("The Devil has no prophets to write his Ten Commandments and no team of authors to write his biography. His case has gone completely by default.") and his true feelings for Lynd will give any reader a few things to think about.

And now, having read only a fraction of the brilliant Bond series, I can see why the suave sophisticate has decorated the bed stands of millions through its time...though I'm sure a few ladies have wished he'd decorate their bed instead.


Also see: Grasshopper's Casino Royale Review