To follow up on reading my first Ian Fleming novel, I’m still enjoying Goldfinger. The story is, of course, clever, but the biggest surprise for me has been how good the writing is.
“With Goldfinger it was different. Everything about the man had grated on Bond’s teeth from the first moment he had seen him. The assertive blatancy of his clothes was just part of the malevolent animal magnetism that had affected Bond from the beginning.”
The delicate dance between James Bond and Goldfinger, and M’s blatant disgust with 007, are perfectly paced (and so different from the movie, where everything is full of double-entendre and, let’s face it, slapstick). The book-Bond is both self-reflective and sinister. The book-M is a boss who’s just as soon fire him, if only he could.