One of those very rare writers who changes how you look at the world
The year was 1963. The Cold War was entering its deepest freeze, and James Bond was the world’s best-known spy. A fantasy figure for a gloomy time, Ian Fleming’s hero was a playboy with a gun who bedded beautiful women whilst swilling martinis in exotic locations.
The Bond books and movies were fun but not, it’s fair to say, entirely accurate in depicting Cold War realities.
