It's been so long since I'd last picked this up, I could barely remember any of it.
The Spy Who Loved Me is, by far, my least frequently read Fleming novel. But as I realized upon picking it up again, its bad reputation is not as deserved as I'd previously thought.
While the first section ("Me") makes me smile at its novelty, it actually is rather compelling. Though it gets erotic enough to be *just* this side of a romance novel, the story of her love affairs gives her the kind of depth rarely afforded to Bond's heroines, and it's a refreshing change just this once.
Section two ("Them") is wrought with tension. While the gangster lingo is just as dated here as in DAF, Horror and Sluggsy are convincingly intimidating, even downright scary. Viv really is in a truly nightmarish situation, one that could really happen. Not some Jamaican obstacle course or Fort Knox robbery-- Real gangsters trying to burn down real property for real insurance money. Not much of a fantastical thing about it.
Section three ("Him") is, unsurprisingly, where it really hits its stride. The unique observation of Bond is quite interesting, and he really does come off a little less cold and cruel than usual. Maybe that's Fleming's intent, to show him as being a little more ideal through Viv's wishful eyes. Though the same old physical description remains, I see more Rog in this Bond's speech than anywhere else in the Fleming canon. That alone tells us Bond was coming off a little differently.
I had totally forgotten about the connecting anecdote about Bond's post-TB activities regarding SPECTRE. I really wish we could see the story about the mission to protect the Russian defector as a PTS one day, but I know that's sadly out of the question. When Bond finally begins to throw his weight around, it really gets good and tense. I love the subtle way he calls the thugs out on their rather obvious gang lingo. When the action begins in earnest, it's a real thrill ride. Everything from the fire to the shootout to the sinking car to Sluggsy's terrifying last try is riveting.
Another observation I'd like to make is how silly the book's detractors come off when going crazy about the "All women love semi-rape" line. It's as if there were no fitting context to explain the sentiment. Fleming clearly states that those women only feel that way when they know they're safe. And he does say "
semi-rape". The definition of "semi" is obviously not the same to all readers. Some think, "Sure--they just like a passionate experience," while others balk and grow furiously indignant over the very inclusion of the "r-word". It's a 46 year old book that gets little attention now. I personally don't see the big deal. It's not as if Fleming encouraged men to become rapists. Anyway, it was a much more satisfying read this time, and I'm sure I'll pick it up again in due time.