Thunderball (James Bond, #9) - Ian Fleming

In which M. packs Bond off to a health spa for detox to cure his apparent alcoholism and chain smoking and general unhealthiness. Hilarity and international intrigue ensue.


I once tried a sugar-free, low GI diet to see if it would help reduce my chronic pain. I vividly remember the carb and sugar detox. Reading about Bond experiencing something similar . . . well, that’s the most empathy I’ve ever had for the bastard. At least he still got to eat sugar. And oranges, which are basically delicious balls of sugar and acid disguised as harmless fruit. But I digress.


Move over, SMERSH. You’re obsolete. It’s time for SPECTRE to take over as Bond’s reason for staying in the spy game. Once you get past the massive amount of exposition detailing SPECTRE’s inception and the history of the man who masterminded it, and the massive amount of exposition detailing SPECTRE’s plan to extort millions from world governments, and the massive amount of exposition detailing how every little step is carried out, this is a fun spy adventure. It’s got nuclear weapons, killer fishies (well, only one, but it was big, okay?), and a Bond girl who isn’t quite my hero Galatea Brand but doesn’t fall too terribly short. I enjoyed it. And I wouldn’t mind seeing the movie again.