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[Loomis]

Picked up some great books this weekend in London's Charing Cross Road: a UK paperback first edition of "Colonel Sun", a UK hardback first edition of "Licence Renewed", and another UK paperback I'd never heard of, "007 James Bond: A Report" by O.F. Snelling, first published in 1964.

Snelling's witty and unpretentious, albeit not particularly probing, examination of the Bond phenomenon is a fascinating look through the eyes of a Bond fan almost 40 years ago, when Connery was the only actor to have played 007 on the big screen, and there was no such thing as a non-Fleming Bond novel. (Fleming died shortly before the hardback edition of "007: A Report" was published, and it went to press before "You Only Live Twice" hit bookshops.)

Snelling's focus is the novels, although he praises to the skies Connery's interpretation of Bond (while observing that Bernard Lee is miscast as M). While he concedes that "Attempting to pick holes in these books is becoming a national pastime" (seems that people in those days enjoyed pointing out goofs just as much as we do today), he highlights a flub in "From Russia With Love" (questioning whether the men from SMERSH could have filmed Bond making love to Tatiana under the conditions of light described by Fleming).

The following is pretty heartwarming stuff:

"James Bond is set for life, or at least for as long as the publishers care to keep him going. The autumn of 1963 proved this, if nothing else did. October saw the release of the film version of From Russia, With Love, and it broke all box-office records. I think it is an interesting point, and well worth mentioning, that I happened to spend the whole of this month in hospital. Confined to my insular little world for some thirty days, it was absorbing to watch the development of events over that period. Bored to death by the necessary stultifying existence of the ward's confines, several fellow-patients flapped and gasped, almost literally, like fishes out of water. Daily Mirror read, doctor's visit passed, the rest of the day stretched ahead with only the tell-tale trundle of trolleys and the tinkle of tin against tea-cups to relieve the monotony of the convalescent's life. Conversation was not a lost art: it had never been found. Light and Home were both woolly and vociferous. Television had not, as yet, penetrated these dark and uncharted regions. The mobile library, twice a week, offered brief succour as it passed, but what to choose? What tantalizing title or decorative dust-jacket to select, somewhat apprehensively, until next time round?

I saw certain Fleming works. I recommend them strongly. Either my enthusiasm was infectious or else my fellow-patients, already conditioned to accepting 'doctor's orders', were bludgeoned by an air of authority. The available books were devoured hungrily and exchanged impatiently. The fortuitous and quite coincidental reviews of the film of From Russia, With Love in the daily and evening newspapers fanned the flames. A certain Nurse Bond, comely and communicative, became both the butt and the envy of the ward: on her evening off she had excursed as far as Victoria - a mere half mile away - and had seen the film!

What did it matter that front-page headlines told us that Macmillan was in our position: incarcerated and under the knife? Of what importance was this Hailsham-Hogg and Home-Hume business? Who made the better reading: Butler or Bond?

I relate this personal observation as just one illustration of the sort of thing that was going on, in some way or another, all over the country in October. Everyone suddenly seemed to become Bond-conscious. The booksellers' Trade News had this to say a week or two later:

Jubilant PAN have voiced what most people must have realized by now - that 'British publishing has never known anything quite like James Bond'. Need we tell you, he continues to turn up in our newspapers and magazines, to dominate bookshop paper-back displays, and fill cinemas. Sales meanwhile go up and up, bringing delight to Mr. Fleming, his publishers and to booksellers everywhere.

Hard facts. Although only five British paper-backs have so far hit that magic million-sale, two Flemings are due shortly to join this elite list. They are, as you will have guessed, Dr. No and From Russia, With Love.

Just for the record, whilst the latter sold 183,000 in October alone, total sales of James Bond sagas for the same month were 733,700.

If that weren't enough, PAN have computed that so far this year more than four million James Bonds have been sold. And by Christmas they predict that the figure will be near on five million.

The jubiliation is certainly understandable."