Goldfinger has an effortless grace that is simply beyond most thriller writers. And this is the point; Fleming could really write. Yes, Goldfinger is just a potboiler fantasy, but it is suffused with beautiful writing; elegant simple sentences that contain real wit and character. It was Fleming's longest book and yet compared to a Clancy or a Ludlum it is little more than a short story. But in contrast to the turgid, plot ridden lumps that so many writers today (and in fairness, for the last thirty years) seem compelled to churn out, Fleming's brevity and clarity, his development of character, the pace and humour he injects, all shine out.
Reading again the account of the game of Canasta… Read more
