Solo: A James Bond novel, by William Boyd

Harper Perennial, 321 pages, $15.99 (c2013)

The truth is it has taken me five years of fitful reading to finish “Solo,” one of the many James Bond books written after the death of series creator Ian Fleming. What propels Bond’s popularity to the extent that at least six authors have officially continued the hardy series? What drives people to see the twenty-four Bond movies and has provided a healthy livelihood for six or seven actors (depending on where you stand about David Niven)?

Bond is suave, athletic, sophisticated, a culinary aesthete (he makes his own salad dressing in restaurants) and he has a license to kill. But in Ian Fleming’s hands he was also a racist and an imperialist. The more recent Bond movies and the books by other authors struggle to right those attitudes in these different times. It says something about the appeal of the character of Bond that he has survived to receive these major plastic surgeries.

There is something attractive about a character who can solve problems that threaten world peace by cannily assessing situations and then shooting the heck out of whoever and whatever moves. Real world problems are complex and are never solved long-term with a bullet to anyone’s head. Real world problems drag on and on, passing from one administration, dynasty, or junta to another. Real world problems involve the lives of millions of people physically, economically, and emotionally. But we can happily ignore the real guns, bombs, and terrorists staring at us while James Bond frolics on the screen or cavorts in a book. Life in Bond’s world is simple: kill bad guy, make love to woman/women, teach bartender to make martini.

Bond is good but not a goody-goody. He is tough but can be tender — just ask the zillions of fictional women who have swooned in his presence. There is no pretense that Bond is anything other than fiction, no matter how “human” or “vulnerable” any of the authors or screenwriters try to make him. We do not need him to contain either of those characteristics; we just need him to succeed with his mission.

“Solo” is set in the 60s, the time period of about half the books and the beginning of the movie franchise. I can’t tell you why I’ve dragged my feet for five years. Author William Boyd certainly makes a credible show of animating Bond. But maybe that’s the problem; Boyd’s Bond is stuck in the 60s with a 21st century ethos. It’s not tongue-in-cheek, insouciant, or Ludlum-esque enough. Boyd creates a Bond trapped in amber. After five years of toying with the book, however, I no longer know why I stumbled so.