Going, Going

Ian Fleming didn't live to see "Goldfinger" in theaters. He succumbed to heart attack. He was a heavy drinker and smoker throughout his adult life, and the editing of "The Man with the Golden Gun" remained unfinished. (Screenwriters Richard Maibaum and Tom Mankiewicz figured something out, as the celluloid version of the novel was released eight years after the book's initial publication.) The author had no inkling that James Bond would be a huge influence on succeeding generations of writers and filmmakers.

Many critics believed that Fleming was a master storyteller. The world wasn't compromised by political correctness, yet. Some accused the Englishman of sexism; Honeychile Rider, for instance, did her missions all by herself, even with Bond around. But there was hardly any change of order in the bedroom. Fleming, who was born in the London district of Mayfair, relished his experience in the Royal Navy. He wasn't qualified, but he became a reliable assistant. (Fleming's superior was an abrasive character, who made enemies within military circles. So he needed a liaison.) He was excited at what he learned. He had a Walter Mitty moment, which he was unable to let go after the war.

For your eyes only

Not all of Fleming's works made it to the big screen. Many were nail-biting tales. Not a few wondered if the reboot of the 007 franchise was a good move; "Casino Royale", "Quantum of Solace", and "Skyfall" were box-office hits, but not one villain would remind viewers (and readers) of Rosa Klebb. It didn't matter, as Bond's recent films would renew interest in Fleming's novels and short stories.

"The Property of a Lady" was about a lovely emerald bracelet supposedly inherited by Maria Freudenstein. She was a Secret Service employee, a double agent too. An auction would be held, attended by members of the KGB no less. The money would be paid to Miss Freudenstein. Bond identified Piotr Malinowski, the Resident Director of the KGB, and he wanted to make sure that he would be declared persona non grata before the Russian government find out that Secret Service knew the real identity of Miss Freudenstein all along. It was a delicate game of chess. As for the woman herself, readers were left to wonder about her fate. Fleming described her as an ugly duckling, with a chip on her shoulders. Could it meant nothing would happen to her? Maybe not, as there were a number of recurring characters in the series. It might also be the author implying that she would suffer a worse fate. If she was attractive enough.

The Briton's character development was notable in this work, his insight might surprised some readers. For instance, what were Fleming's reasons for judging a certain gentleman as someone with homosexual tendencies? He might be wrong, which was the case with his essay about New York. So he wrote another short about Bond's visit to the Big Apple, where he was about to warn a female colleague that his boyfriend was a KGB agent. But they have an intimate relationship not long ago.