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- Sales Rank: #7786297 in Books
- Published on: 1964
- Binding: Hardcover
Most helpful customer reviews
33 of 40 people found the following review helpful.
He spent less than a day in each city...
By Steve Rosse
In 1959, Ian Fleming, the author of the James Bond books, was paid by the Sunday Times of London to travel for a month to the "world's most exciting cities" and report on them in a series of essays. These essays were anthologized in 1964 under the title "Thrilling Cities."
In just thirty days, Mr. Fleming visited fourteen cities. That gave him just two days in each city, if we assume he was somehow able to travel across continents in the blink of an eye. He wisely did not spend any of his precious time in museums. He did visit the "world's largest brothel" in Macau, bath houses in Tokyo, casinos in Las Vegas and Monte Carol, and, since his guides in each city were the local correspondents for the Sunday Times of London, all the bars where reporters and writers gathered to drink in those days.
Much of what Mr. Fleming recorded has, sometimes sadly and sometimes gladly, long since disappeared, as in this example: "Bahrain is, without question, the scruffiest international airport in the world. The washing facilities would not be tolerated in a prison, and the slow fans in the ceilings of the bedraggled hutments hardly stirred the flies. This is the East one is glad to get through quickly."
Other comments show that the East has not changed that much, as in this comment as his plane flies over Turkey: "From now on, we shall be in the lands of baksheesh, squeeze and graft, which rule from the smallest coolie to the Mr. Bigs in government."
And tucked into the first chapter there is this: "...then down over the rice fields of Burma to the heavenly green pastures of Thailand, spread out among wandering rivers and arrow-straight canals like some enchanted garden. This was the first place of really startling beauty I had so far seen, and the temperature of ninety-two degrees in the shade on the tarmac did nothing to spoil the impact of the country where I would advise other travelers to have their first view of the true Orient. A minute air hostess, smiling the first true smile, as opposed to an air hostess smile, since London, told us to "forrow me."
"In spite of the mosquitoes as large as Messershmitts and the wringing humidity, everyone seems to agree that Bangkok is a dream city, and I blamed myself for hurrying on to Hong Kong. In only one hour, one still got the impression of the topsy-turvy, childlike quality of the country, and an old Siamese hand, a chance acquaintance, summed it up with a recent cutting from a Bangkok newspaper."
Mr. Fleming then goes on to recount the now famous quote in which the Bangkok Police chief encouraged tourists to ask policemen for directions to reputable brothels, so as to avoid victimization by streetwalkers.
Thus an hour is spent in Bangkok in 1959, with just enough time to notice heat, humidity, mosquitoes, and the way women smile. Just one hour in this particular "thrilling city." That the police were willing to guide strangers to prostitutes may have been what made the ageing Mr. Fleming describe Bangkok as a "dream city," but I prefer to think that it was something more subtle, and something which even the casual visitor could absorb in a single hour spent in the airport. Alas, Babylon.
13 of 15 people found the following review helpful.
Settings Without Plots
By Bill Slocum
If you love Ian Fleming's James Bond novels for more than being the launching pads of the movies, you may well feel as I do that Fleming was a decent spinner of yarns and a sensational describer of settings. "Thrilling Cities," published in the United States in 1963, is a collection of Sunday newspaper articles in which Fleming wrote about various cities he visited, cities that might well have been settings for Bond adventures.
In this book, in fact, one is. "007 In New York" is a brief story included in this book's New York chapter that features Bond paying a visit to Central Park, but it is not clear whether Fleming wrote it to be canon or a lark. It's easily the lamest Bond story by Fleming, worse even than "Property Of A Lady," and serves only as an alternate means for describing New York.
"007 In New York" is also the weakest part of what is otherwise a very sturdy collection of travel writing. Yes, Fleming made these trips over 45 years ago. Those prices he quotes probably are missing a few zeroes at the end, and most of the establishments he names were shuttered long ago. But Fleming's ability to transport you not only remains in ample evidence, it is now even more impressive as he moves you through space AND time, his appreciation for sensual delight balanced and buttressed by an ever-caustic wit.
Viewing Hong Kong: "The streets of Hong Kong are evidence that neon lighting need not be hideous, and the crowded Chinese ideograms in pale violet and pink and green with a plentiful use of white are entrancing not only for their colors but also because one does not know what drab messages or exhortations they spell out."
Sunbathers in Honolulu: "...these elderly ghouls looked even worse without their muumuus - huge, blue-veined, dimpled thighs, scrawny necks and sagging bosoms garlanded with leis, their broken-down, spavined spouses trailing behind carrying the coconut mats, the sun-tan oil, the bathrobes, and the Wall Street Journal."
Italian drivers: "The amount of noise he can make with his vehicle, particularly via the exhaust pipe, has come in some obscure way to represent a virility symbol, and for the police to pray silence is as vain as to tell Italians not to lend grandeur and emphasis with their hands to the simplest of conversations."
To say that Fleming had a jaundiced, borderline bigot's attitude about the people of the world is not to deny him his engaging tone or his occasional bulls-eyes. In Bond books, one sees this character peeking out in slow moments, like when Bond walks through a hotel lobby or goes fishing as a cover for his real work, discoursing on the uniqueness of wherever in the world Bond is. For many Fleming aficionados, this is what makes Bond books special, even more than the silly names of the heroines or the bizarre plots Bond must foil.
Here, for the only real time, Fleming foregoes the plots and just bathes us in atmosphere, perhaps not a 100% accurate representation of the world as it is now or was then, but the world we imagine ourselves in when reading a Fleming Bond. It's a potent martini of a trip, neither shaken nor stirred, exactly, but very, very neat.
11 of 14 people found the following review helpful.
If you like the Bond books
By George Sheridan
Just remember that you're dealing with Ian Fleming, and it's therefore going to be racist and shot through with sexism and class bigotry on top of that. If you like the Bond books (and I do, very much--I just have to bear in mind when they were written), you know that going in.
However, it's not written as stylishly or as well as the Bond books. It's an unhealthy middle-aged Englishman on a whirlwind tour of a few continents bitching about the weird, shiftless, untrustworthy natives.
For Fleming completists only.
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