Customer Reviews

The Facts of Death

5 star:		(24)
4 star:		(21)
3 star:		(12)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(15)

 

 

That so many previous reviewers have given this book high marks shows how far our literary standards have fallen. I give it one star only because Amazon hasn't provided for a zero-star rating. The story was trite and embarrassingly derivative of Fleming's Bond stories. But above all, the writing is horrendous. This book would have improved 100% if Benson had simply hired someone with average writing skills to do a sentence-by-sentence rewriting. Again, I am appalled than so many of you actually think this is a good book.

I am a person who has never cared for rating systems. If you ask someone to rate a book on a scale of '1' to '5', it is inevitable that if they even moderately like it, they will rate it a '5'. If they moderately dislike it, it will rate a '1'. Thus, you cannot trust a '1' or a '5' rating, as they are not truly representative of the book's worth.

With that said, this is why I have rated this book a '1', and why it is a valid rating.

Gosh, does this intro sound familiar?

Benson has not improved his writing skills with his latest book, The Facts of Death. Bond still lacks any real development or depth to his character, and instead comes across yet again as a bland, unremarkable character. I don't even want to go into the whole encounter with Felix Leiter, the Tex-Mex restaurant, and the wheelchair charge Felix makes into the firefight. I'll let readers laugh about that fiasco themselves. Benson is also still enamoured with the use of exclamation points in his narrative, which strikes the writing as amateurish.

Benson also has not yet gained knowledge of Bond's character. Bond couldn't call his former boss anything but "sir", then calls him Miles. Bond does a lot of running around, acting as some sort of amateur detective rather than as a top-notch spy. And the US government, which knows of the militia group The Suppliers dealing in chemical weapons, seems to have little interest in shutting them down.

One of the biggest problems I had with the book is with the gizmos. Bond's new vehicle is protected by Chobham armor, which shows Benson knows little about Chobham armor. The vehicle is protected by reactive armor tiles, which shows Benson knows little about reactive armor (don't get me started on this one). And the vehicle is equipped with a remote controlled airplane (equipped with its own armaments that can dock underneath the car while it's moving), a cruse control systems that lets Bond have sex in the back seat, and a self-sealing skin that eliminates any bullet hole, which shows Benson doesn't know a great deal about anything. I will pause to give Benson some credit, however. I do believe that the paint-changing concept for the car could well work, and is an interesting concept. But that doesn't make an exit from the corner Benson has painted himself into. Benson has created a vehicle that has effectively removed any tension from a vehicle encounter. No bullet will stop it, Bond doesn't need to drive it, and he can destroy any vehicle at any location with impunity by using that ridiculous airplane. Bond's car is now a waste of reading time.

Benson introduced a wonderful little device that will disarm any alarm system. Quite the feat, given the wide range of alarm systems out there that do not function on remote control. It does, rather nicely, save Benson the trouble of finding a way for Bond to disarm systems, or leave the reader wondering why the bad guys haven't discovered Home Alert.

Benson has dropped into an overgizmo mode, akin to the problems I felt were present in the Stainless Steel Rat sci-fi series. No matter what you encounter, there's a handy device that will solve all your problems. It's a nice way of compensating for a lack of any meaningful character to operate them. I can easily picture this conversation occurring:

Tanner walked into the room and handed a folder marked "Top Secret" to M. "It's disastrous," he said, his voice strained with apprehension. "Bond's gone missing, the double-0 section is down with the trots from yesterday's luncheon, and Blofield's third cousin Bernie has obtained a nuclear weapon and is threatening to destroy Liechtenstein! What will we do?"

M strummed her fingers on the desk in thought. "Get that janitor," she said, "you know, the one that comes in after hours? I think his name's Bob. Give him the assignment."

Tanner blinked several times before responding. "The... janitor?"

"Of course," M replied. "Just have him nip past Q branch and pick up the usual kit. It will do everything for him. We just need someone to carry it all from place to place."

I do hope that Benson will discover what he is doing wrong and works to correct his mistakes. At least have someone hand him a book by Andy McNab so he can find out how a thriller should be written. I have always enjoyed the Bond series, but right now, I can't seem to find James Bond in Benson's stories.

I don't get why some people rate this book so low. Their standards must be pretty darn high. I had great fun with this book. Terrific story, cool locales. The mathematical angle in the plot was very unique. Highly recommended!

In Raymond Benson, Gildrose have chosen the wrong person to succeed Ian Fleming, Kingsley Amis and John Gardner. Where those three have a writing style that is taut and gripping, Benson is lacklustre and flabby.

Unlike just about every previous Bond novel, you don't particularly want to turn the page. For me at least, it took a lot of patience to finish this woeful piece of Bond fakery.

Benson's Bond is full of American phrases which sit uneasily with Bond's half-Scottish, half-Swiss parentage. Reading this novel, you'd think that Benson has never set foot in the UK, so poor is the attention to detail.

Attention to detail made the other Fleming, Amis and Gardner novels more than just action thrillers. How sad that Gildrose could not find a decent author to continue the Bond canon. If you are seeking post-Fleming Bond novels, my advice is to check out the Bond novels by John Gardner. Better still, get a copy of 'Colonel Sun' by Kingsley Amis (writing as Robert Markham).

After reading Benson's first effort at a Bond novel, I thought I would give him another chance to show me that he is a worthy heir to Fleming. Unfortunately, "The Facts of Death" was so terrible I couldn't even bring myself to finish it, and it convinced me that his Bond is no better than Gardner's cardboard, stereotypical, Hollywoodesque version.

I at least sensed from the first Benson/Bond adventure that Raymond was excited about writing his first Bond novel, but already in this, the second in his series, I sense that he is tiring of the assignment. This is evidenced by the trite, cliched locales that seem to be inspired more by Pinewood Studios than Casino Royale or Dr. No. The dull action scenes 1) are reminiscent of so many juvenile action movies, and 2) require the kind of suspension of reality that Fleming either never demanded of us, or, was at least able to pull off by fully fleshing out Bond's character and the scene's details. (Typical example of Benson's style: Bond tries to track someone down by jumping into the back of the bad guy's pickup truck as he pulls away and heads toward his hideout. Now, we've certainly never seen THAT before! And naturally, the driver would never even sense that an adult male had just dumped himself into the back of the truck.)

One of the most enjoyable aspects of the Fleming series was characters like M. Good old Sir Miles Messervy is gone, and now Bond has a repulsive female boss that he can look down his nose at with disdain and disgust - along with the readers. Imagine a plot device utilized by Ian Fleming that would have M giddy with romance and the object of his affections subsequently getting bumped off. I can't either, but evidently "Fleming-expert" Benson can, and that's why I believe poor Ian is spinning in his grave

The literary device of contemporizing Bond which began with Gardner is utilized and is every bit as nauseous with Benson. In addition to everything else, we have to visualize Bond and Leiter in their 70s by now.

Consider this scene, all you devotees of Ian Fleming, and tell me you would be satisfied with Benson's Bond. The run-down, decrepid Leiter and his gorgeous babe (now, that's believable!) take Bond out for a dinner of tacos and margaritas. Convince me that Ian Fleming would approve of that scene! As I was reading, I was begging with the print on the page to have Bond playfully tell Leiter where he could stick his margarita and instead order one of his favorite stiff drinks. But, this was too much to hope for, as Bond ends up actually enjoying the kind of meal that Ian Fleming would have Bond digesting only at the point of a gun. Before you know it, we'll have Bond scarfing greasy burgers and fries with undisguised gusto and slurping diet pop through a straw, while grousing that they forgot to include the toy in his kid's meal.

Anyway, those scenes just about size up the book. If you're a fan of Fleming, forget it. Those days are gone and are not coming back any time soon. If you love the tiresome comic book Bond of the movies and no end of cliches, this may live up to all your expectations.

The biggest disappointment is that Benson was built up to be an expert on Fleming. After reading his first two attempts at Bond novels (my last) I really have to wonder if they meant PEGGY Fleming.

I think it is impossible to slam this book too much because, simply, I found it to be one of the best researched and constructed Bond novels in a long time if not ever. No one can ever fault Benson thus far with his first 2 efforts. The man takes the time to research and put together a fantastic story. BUT, no matter how much I liked the story and the characters and the action the prose and writing of the book are all too often just plain poor or amateurish. Ian Fleming was so smooth and never too wordy, and John Gardner had his own smoothness and solid style, but Benson's writing is strictly high school much of the time. Descriptions and action scenes read so simply it makes you wonder if the guy really cared. And to read him in interviews he constantly mentions that he is writing Fleming's Bond. Why not write Bensons's Bond? Fleming died 35 years ago. We don't need a copy. We need someone who loves Bond, and no doubt Benson does, to create great stories, which he does, and inject HIS OWN perceptions of Bond without trying to copy all the Fleming-isms. And please, if you must Mr. Benson, take some prose and fiction writing courses. I love Bond and I believe Benson truly loves Bond but the vapid prose is too damn ugly to lift the Bond novels to a higher and more read and respected level, which, with the quality of the research and the stories, they can reach.

How did Raymond Benson convince a publisher to print this garbage? This, in every sense, is a poorly written novel. The writing reminds me of a very earnest 10th-grader. This books' title character bears NO relationship to the James Bond created by Ian Fleming. I realize that the James Bond films have influnced millions of readers. Fine. That, however, is no excuse for a story that reads like a (bad) action-movie screenplay. Mr. Benson has created a poorly realized, Americanized Bond that has nothing in common with the original character.
I could keep going, but the review only allows 1000 words. In short: This book is a pathetic attempt to capitalize on the James Bond franchise. Read Fleming. Or watch one of the movies, but don't waste your time on this book.

With all the media attention on the Balkans and the Middle East, the situation on Cyprus has faded four decades into history. Or has it? 007 gets pulled into a situation when M's boyfriend is murdered by a serial killer, and as the old saying goes: "way leads to way". He winds up dealing with a new terrorist group dedicated to ridding Cyprus of the Turks and the more moderate Greeks. One big feature about this book is that the hostility between Bond and M has faded quite a bit. She actually calls him James a few times. Oh, yeah--about the allusion above. Remember that scene in "Wizard Of Oz" where the horse pulling the carriage in the Emerald City keeps changing color? They explain to Dorothy that this is the famous "horse of a different color". Well, Bond's new Jag does the same thing--with the flip of a switch. Beats the Aston Martin he had in Goldfinger--the one with the changing plates.

BENSON WRITES thrillers "featuring Ian Fleming's James Bond". Packed full of perfunctory sex and predictable violence, with an improbable plot, an absurd baddie and an obsession with brand names and hardware, this is an uninvolving confection that never manages to transcend the imaginative limits or warped authenticity of the original Bond films. Sporadic bursts of exciting narrative suggest that Benson should ditch the fossil and write his own books.

Those who complain about Benson as "not Fleming" are correct. But Bond is older.The hard mean man of Casino Royale (when Fleming spoke of Bond's "cruel mouth",he meant it) has mellowed with age. After all, he's lost a few beloved women himself since "Casino Royale", including a wife,and that will make a good man into a more sympathetic nicer guy. Some may not care for his high-tech tools. But it is only sensible to use modern improvements if results are all that matters.And results ARE all that matter to Bond. It is still The Mission that counts, and he will take major personal risks to win. If he is a little nicer now when it doesn't affect his job, he'll still never quit. He still likes the ladies, the cars, the booze. He is still bored by inaction,as when between leads on the mission. His primary tools are still his mind, his handguns, his never-say-die will to win.

This is a fine book. And it still the real James Bond,if an evolved-by-age-and-experience one. Four stars.