Goldeneye: Where Bond Was Born: Ian Fleming's Jamaica (Matthew Parker)

'Goldeneye: the story of Ian Fleming in Jamaica and the creation of British national icon, James Bond.

From 1946 until the end of his life, Ian Fleming lived for two months of every year at Goldeneye - the house he built on a point of high land overlooking a small white sand beach on Jamaica's north coast. All the James Bond novels and stories were written here.

Fleming adored the Jamaica he had discovered, at the time an imperial backwater that seemed unchanged from the glory days of the empire. Amid its stunning natural beauty, the austerity and decline of post-war Britain could be forgotten. For Fleming, Jamaica offered the perfect mixture of British old-fashioned conservatism and imperial values, alongside the dangerous and sensual: the same curious combination that made his novels so appealing, and successful. The spirit of the island - its exotic beauty, its unpredictability, its melancholy, its love of exaggeration and gothic melodrama - infuses his writing.

Fleming threw himself into the island's hedonistic Jet Set party scene: Hollywood giants, and the cream of British aristocracy, the theatre, literary society and the secret services spent their time here drinking and bed-hopping. But while the whites partied, Jamaican blacks were rising up to demand respect and self-government. And as the imperial hero James Bond - projecting British power across the world - became ever more anachronistic and fantastical, so his popularity soared.

Drawing on extensive interviews with Ian's family, his Jamaican lover Blanche Blackwell and many other islanders, Goldeneye is a beautifully written, revealing and original exploration of a crucially important part of Ian Fleming's life and work.'

Bond on the Hemingway Hero

The Seychelles, where the story is set

"He looked hard and fit, and the faded blue jeans, military-cut shirt and wide leather belt suggested that he made a fetish of doing so--looking tough...Bond ran his eyes down the man from the sparse close-cropped black and grey hair, like iron filings sprinkled over the bullet head, to the tattooed eagle above a fouled anchor on the right forearm and then down to the naked leathery feet that stood nautically on the carpet. He thought: this man looks like a Hemingway hero. I'm not going to get on with him."

Ian Fleming, The Hildebrand Rarity (1960)

Scrambled Eggs James Bond

SCRAMBLED EGGS JAMES BOND 

For four individualists: 12 fresh eggs, salt and pepper, 5-6oz. of fresh butter 

Break the eggs into a bowl. Beat thoroughly with a fork and season well. In a small copper (or heavy-bottomed saucepan) melt 4 oz. of the butter. When melted, pour in the eggs and cook over a very low heat, stirring continuously with a small egg whisk. While the eggs are slightly more moist than you would wish for eating, remove pan from heat, add rest of butter and continue whisking for half a minute, adding the while finely chopped chives or fine herbs. Serve on hot buttered toast in individual copper dishes (for appearance only) with pink champagne (Taittinger) and low music. 

 P.S. I think you sometimes add cream instead of the last piece of Butter. G.

A Good-Looking Bastard

'He was an athletic-looking six foot, dressed in the sort of casually well-cut beige herringbone tweed that suggests Anderson & Sheppard. He wore a white silk shirt and a dark red polka-dot tie and the soft brown V-necked sweater looked like vicuña...a good-looking bastard who got all the women he wanted and probably lived on them--and lived well.

All he learned--from the clothes--was that the count was a much-travelled man--shirts from Charvet, ties from Tripler, Dior and Hardy Amies, shoes from Peal, and raw silk pyjamas from Hong Kong...a tough maquereau from the Ritz bar in Paris, the Palace at St Moritz, the Carlton at Cannes--good at backgammon, polo, water-skiing, but with the yellow streak of a man who lives on women.'

 - Bond on Count Lippe, in Ian Fleming's Thunderball (1961)

Solo (William Boyd)

The English novelist William Boyd, of whom I'm a fan, has written the latest book in the James Bond saga. It's received mixed reviews, and it's not hard to understand why. Boyd seems to have ascribed to the character some of the pantywaisted, pussified attitudes that so characterise modern Western man. The thing about Bond is that he is a cruel, racist, sexist, and slightly mad character--much, much darker (and therefore more compelling) in the books than in the popular films. Boyd's Bond, it appears, follows in the footsteps of Hollywood's version. What a pity. Still, I'll probably buy it. Here's an excerpt from a review:

 'Solo, set in 1969, begins promisingly enough, with plenty to satisfy Bond aficionados. By the end of chapter four, a suitably carnal Bond has already eyed up a beautiful woman in a catsuit that revealed "the full swell of her breasts" (and had a zip "that was crying out to be pulled down”), polished off a bottle of Chateau Batailley 1959 at the Dorchester and road-tested a Jensen Interceptor. He’s also had reason to use the lock pick he keeps hidden in his heel, meet Q, be briefed by a pipe-smoking M and told off by Miss Moneypenny. Oh yes, and he gets to say, "My name’s Bond, James Bond."

So far, so good. Boyd clearly enjoyed writing these early scenes, relishing their authenticity, and they are huge fun to read. He is also keen to establish the character of his 45-year old Bond: highly sexed (his eye is immediately drawn to the “small-nippled breasts” of a girl in a Chelsea café, for example) but with none of the misogyny or cruelty of Fleming’s creation. In one telling scene, when he breaks into the catsuited woman’s house (she’s called Bryce, don’t ask), he watches her undress and is excited but "made vaguely uneasy by this unsought-for act of voyeurism". Fleming would have had no such qualms. Ditto a later scene, when Bond seems more concerned about saving starving children than completing his operation.'

Uugh.

Ian Fleming in the Seychelles

View To A Thrill: In the Seychelles with James Bond

Sunday, 9 July 2006

It was the spring of 1958 when Ian Fleming first set foot on Mahé. The author had come to the Seychelles for an extended holiday: seeking adventure, sunshine and inspiration for his latest James Bond book, to be called For Your Eyes Only.

By all accounts he found it here, at the heart of this beautiful string of islands in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Basing himself on Mahé - the largest of the 115-strong group and home to the capital, Victoria - Fleming spent some enjoyable and profitable weeks exploring, snorkelling and investigating the pirate legends so prevalent in these parts, and, most importantly, writing.

When For Your Eyes Only was published two years later, the influence of this trip was apparent. Among the five short stories that combine to make up the book was one set entirely in the Seychelles, which Bond, like Fleming, travels to from a rainswept London in the spring: "M had told Bond he was sending him to the Seychelles," wrote Fleming. "'Admiralty are having trouble with their new fleet base in the Maldives. Communists creeping in from Ceylon. Strikes, sabotage - the usual picture. May have to cut their losses and fall back on the Seychelles ... Just go and have a look.' M glanced out of the window at the driving March sleet. 'Don't get sunstroke.'"

Upon arrival, Bond becomes entangled with a sadistic American multi-millionaire called Milton Krest and his attractive but unhappy wife Liz. Fleming reputedly took the couple's surname from a brand of tonic and ginger beer he drank here - just one of a number of touches paying homage to the visit.

During his time on Mahé, Fleming stayed at a hotel on the north-west coast, built on an outcrop just north of the sprawling Beau Vallon beach. That grand old hotel, The Northolme, built before the First World War, has recently undergone a dramatic transformation. One of the first hotels on the islands, it has reopened after being turned into a luxury five-star retreat. The hotel now consists of 40 wooden villas within a mélange of paths, elevations and landscaping, all with stunning views of the Indian Ocean and the striking Silhouette Island a few miles away.

Bond fans will find the rebuilt hotel packed with Fleming associations: not only is the pretty private beach where Fleming swam exactly as it was during his visit, but the new management, Hilton Worldwide Resorts, has paid tribute to the author by dedicating a villa to him.

In a move that will surely make The Northolme the ultimate honeymoon destination for 007 enthusiasts, the oceanfront Ian Fleming Suite comes complete with a king-sized circular bed, Blofeld-style spinning chair and, best of all, the complete library of James Bond DVDs and novels. During my visit, there was even talk of adding an 007-shaped Jacuzzi outside, and a version of Monty Norman's Bond theme to be played every time the toilet door is opened.

Among Fleming's fascinations nearly five decades ago were the pirate tales that are told throughout the Seychelles. Many Seychellois believe there are still huge caches of buried treasure, including what is generally considered to be the greatest missing hoard of them all, that of the 18th-century buccaneer La Buse (The Buzzard). The bloodthirsty French captain, whose real name was Olivier LeVasseur, was captured on Mauritius, but not before he had hidden his treasure somewhere in the Seychelles. Standing before the gallows, legend has it he took out his map, tore it into several pieces and threw it into the baying crowd declaring: "Find my treasure who may." No one has yet, though people still look for it.

While following the treasure trail around Mahé, Fleming hired a car, buying a local driving licence in Victoria for five rupees. There's no need to purchase the extra licence today, but a car is still essential. Although Victoria is the smallest capital in the world, with just one set of traffic lights, Mahé itself is surprisingly large - roughly 150 square kilometres. The only other means of transportation is an infrequent bus service.

The tropical temperatures make this maze of islands and atolls an ideal place to visit - provided you avoid the rainy season from December to February. At times the heat oppressed our hero, who complained: "The temperature was 80 in the shade and the humidity 90, and in the enclosed waters of the lagoon the water was near blood heat." But in spite of it all, Bond managed to frustrate the villain, win the girl, and squeeze in a good deal of snorkelling, fishing and sailing along the way; a perfect trip to the Seychelles.

Copyright © 2006 The Independent

Ian Fleming Chic

A brief tribute to Ian Fleming, in his centenary year. As a schoolboy I developed an imperishable curiosity about him. I spent hours perusing Fleming first editions in the book shops off Tottenham Court Road in London. I devoted one summer to reading every Bond novel and Fleming biography I could lay my hands on. The Hollywood glitter of the Bond movie franchise failed to impress me.
Fleming was noted for his dark blue suits and bow ties. He was one of those men who settles on one style and sticks with it. On his estate in Jamaica, he wore unusual belted shirt affairs. My favourite Fleming photos show him in Jamaica wearing a plaid shirt and khaki shorts. Of course, for me, it was not his clothing but his life that inspired.