Another Week Starts

Last night I finished reading Dr. No by Ian Fleming. The story opens with secret agent James Bond seriously injured after an attack by an enemy agent. In order to aid his recuperation, his boss "M." sends him to Jamaica to look into the disappearance of a British agent and his secretary. The obvious assumption is that the two have run off together, but Bond is not so sure. He soon discovers a connection between their disappearance and a seemingly uninhabited island owned by the mysterious and reclusive Doctor No. This was the seventh James Bond book published and achieved the distinction of being the first one filmed in 1962, with Sean Connery in the lead role. The book features plenty of action, adventure, glamour, danger and suspense. The familiar ingredients of beautiful women, villainous maniacs bent on world domination, secret bases and armies of disposable henchmen are all present and correct. The main difference between the James Bond novels and the films are that the books don't feature any of the film series' trademark gadgets or much of the humour. Fleming writes well, making Bond more of a flawed anti-hero than the films do. He is also very good at the action scenes. However, the books, at least judged by today's standards, are very politically incorrect at times and there is a surprisingly strong sadistic element to Fleming's prose. If you enjoyed the early Bond films, or if you enjoyed the most recent Bond film, Casino Royale, than you would probably enjoy the books.

I also watched a film on TV last night called Stephen King's Thinner, directed by Tom Holland. The film tells the story of a very successful and very overweight lawyer, who accidentally runs over and kills an elderly gypsy woman. However, the lawyer and his friends, the local policeman and judge, manage to rig the inquest so he gets off completely free. The woman's father touches the lawyer on his way out and mutters the word "thinner". The lawyer soon finds that he is losing weight every day. At first he is overjoyed, but then he realises that the weight continues to drop and no matter what he eats or how much he eats, he can't gain any weight. It wasn't a very good film, with lots of very silly elements, such as a cursed strawberry pie.

Of course it was the start of a new week at work, and as dull as ever. Everyone seemed to be in a really sour mood today, presumably because it was a Monday and a week and a half until payday, so no-one had any money. I bought today's copy of The Times for the weekly poetry section they have started running on Mondays, written by Freida Hughes (daughter of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, and a noted poet, painter and author in her own right).

I didn't go out after work and instead just went straight home.