It's been a long time since I read any of the newer official James Bond novels,
written by a variety of novelists commissioned by the Ian Fleming estate; not since
Sebastian Faulks' effort, of which I don't really remember the actual novel much,
but
do remember his afterword in which he says he's basically too good to be
writing James Bond books, but it's all right 'cause he likes doing pastiche and just
farted this one out on his coffee break (IIRC it showed.) That's probably what's put
me off the other official novels, but as with most things it was some of them coming
up cheap on kindle that made me give them another go. And Jeffery "two ways to spell
Jeffrey weren't enough for me" Deaver does at least seem to have been flattered to
be asked rather than mildly offended.
