Great review of Ian Fleming’s first James Bond novel, Casino Royale, published 50 years ago.
It will surprise no one that Bond is an unrepentant misogynist. When finding himself paired with a female agent – the lust-inducing Vesper Lynd – he is disgusted in spite of his sexual attraction to her. Bond firmly maintains that women are only “for recreation”, and declares her to be a “stupid bitch” – although not to her face, gangsta rap having yet to make that fashionable. Yet, as a chivalrous woman-hater, he is compelled to go on a dangerous pursuit when she is kidnapped by the Evil Villain. This act of overt male heroism ends with Bond getting tortured by having his genitals beaten so badly that it takes him weeks in a hospital to recover. Upon recovery, he is consumed with a desire to bed Vesper Lynd in an effort to prove he can still, ahem, perform as man. Dwelling too long on the symbolism of this theme will make your head explode.