James Bond has been redrawn. But he still gets his prey, in bed and out of it
James Bond has been redrawn. But he still gets his prey, in bed and out of it
Charlie Sheen getting the sack, Hugh Hefner getting ditched, and a new Bond book with no curves on the cover. How many more indignities will we have to suffer? But that old adage of not judging a book by its (lackluster) cover proves right for Jeffery Deaver's Carte Blanche. Between the pages lie pace and panache, sex and secrets. I have to admit, being a somewhat conservative reader when it comes to revisiting old heroes in new avatars, I was sceptical about another Bond novel. 
Writer Jeffery Deaver, author of the new James Bond novel, Carte
Blanche, poses for photographs with a Bentley sports car before a book
signing in central London, last month. Pic/ AFP
Much has changed since Ian Fleming put down his pen, and the new politically correct world is not enough for the rampant male chauvinism of 007. But after Google threw up interesting stuff about Deaver (he won the Ian Fleming Steel Dagger Award in 2004 and wrote 28 suspense novels before he attempted a Bond story) I picked up Carte Blanche.
In keeping with the fad of taking heroes back to the drawing board for a new generation of readers and moviegoers (read Batman Begins and X-Men Origins as well as Daniel Craig's first outing as Bond in Casino Royale), Deaver's Bond is in his 30s. Bond has also been inducted into a new agency, the Overseas Development Group, set up to thwart post-9/11 threats.
It operates independent of Five, Six and the Ministry of Defence, and its aim is "to protect the Realm by any means necessary (and that can only mean lots of body bags)". Some old characters remain to retain the flavour (there's M, Moneypenny and Mary Goodnight). Q is now Sanu Hirani, to cater to the Asian market, I believe. And Bond's toy is a remodelled iPhone.
Thankfully, the new Bond is not a new-age pansy; he retains his style. "Bond sipped his champagne and looked out of the private jet's spacious window, the twin Rolls-Royce engines pulsing smoothly as it flew towards Dubai at 42,000 feet, doing more than 600 miles an hour. The aircraft was, Bond reflected with amusement, a Grumman... but Bond was in a Grumman 650, the faster model."u00a0u00a0
This time, Bond has to stop a certain Severan Hydt, with a taste for all things dead (not in Nithari's Maninder Singh Pandher way, though), and prevent a massive terrorist attack that could result in thousands of deaths.
There are car chases, shoot outs, even train derailments to keep reader interest intact through its
428 pages.
And in between saving the world, Bond keeps the women happy. Sample this: "Bond whisked her dress off, the insubstantial blue cloth spilling to the floor. Felicity then eased back, pulling him with her, until they were lying on the couch, she beneath him." A man's got to do what a man's got to do, we suppose.
Excerpt: Carte Blanche
Bond sat back, staring at the ceiling. He heard women's voices outside his door and looked up. Philly, holding several files, was chatting with Mary Goodnight. Bond nodded and the Six agent joined him, taking a wooden chair opposite his desk.
'What have you found, Philly?'
She sat forward, crossing her legs, and Bond believed he heard the appealing rustle of nylon. 'First, your photo skills were fine, James, but the light was too low. I couldn't get high enough resolutions of the Irishman's face for recognition. And there were no prints on the pub bill or the other note, except for a partial of yours.'
So the man would have to remain anonymous for the time being.
'But the prints on the glass were good. The local was Aldo Karic, Serbian. He lived in Belgrade and worked for the national railway.' She pursed her lips in frustration, which emphasised the charming dimple. 'But it's going to take a little longer than I'd hoped to get more details. The same with the haz-mat on the train. Nobody's saying anything. You were right -- Belgrade's not in the mood to co-operate.'
'Now for the slips of paper you found in the burning car. I got some possible locations.' Bond noted the printouts she was producing from a folder. They were the maps emblazoned with the cheerful logo of MapQuest, the online directions-finding service. 'Are you having budget problems at Six? I'd be happy to ring the Treasury for you.'
She laughed, a breathy sound. 'I used proxies, of course. Just wanted an idea of where on the pitch we were playing.' She tapped one. 'The receipt? The pub is here.' It was just off the motorway near Cambridge.
Bond stared at the map. Who had eaten there? The Irishman? Noah? Other associates? Or someone who'd hired the car last week and had no connection whatsoever with Incident Twenty?
'And the other piece of paper? With the writing on it?' Boots -- March 17. No later than that. She produced a lengthy list. 'I tried to think of every possible combination of what it could mean. Dates, footwear, geographical locations, the chemist.' Her mouth tightened again. She was displeased that her efforts had fallen short. 'Nothing obvious, I'm afraid.' He rose and pulled down several Ordinance Survey maps from the shelf. He flipped through them, scanning carefully. Mary Goodnight appeared in the doorway.
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Carte Blanche, Jeffery Deaver, Hachette India, Rs 499. Available at leading bookstores.
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