Old Charlie the Sausage-Fingered got the metal hat he’s been pining for his whole charmed life last month and the Ian Fleming Estate celebrated it with this James Bond tie-in, On HIS (because HER was another Bond novel back when the Lizzie queen was on the sparkly chair - you can tell I’m a royalist, what?) Majesty’s Secret Service. And it was not a good book.
Charlie Higson wrote the YA Bond books a number of years ago but, if you were a ‘90s kid like me, you’ll remember him for The Fast Show, a brilliant sketch comedy show that Higson co-wrote and starred in as various characters. Well, turns out writing Bond (or perhaps just adult Bond - maybe his YA Bond is good? I’ll never know!) isn’t quite as easy as making love to a beautiful woman.
The villain of the week is a dull blowhard who’s an uninspired rich white guy ethno-statist caricature with a rubbish and stupid plan. He’s also one of two main characters with unpronounceable names for no reason. Higson takes us through the required checklist of Bond features via the most pedestrian prose and flat dialogue while nothing the least bit interesting happens and then the novel’s over leaving zero impression behind.
Throw in a bland cover, typos galore (no, that’s not the Bond girl’s name), and cheap printed paper and it looks like the rushed cash-grab it is. Like I’m sure most of you did, I’d ignore On His Majesty’s Boring Service like the coronation as the empty non-events they both are.
No comments:
Post a Comment