seriousfic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seriousfic) wrote2009-02-01 01:42 pm
seriousfic) wrote2009-02-01 01:42 pm
OH IAN FLEMING NO!
I checked out some James Bond books from the library. In lieu of reviews, how about quoting all the horribly racist and sexist bits?
Casino Royale
Bond sat at the window and gathered his thoughts. Nothing that Mathis had told him was reassuring. He was completely blown and under really professional surveillance. ... And then there was this pest of a girl. He sighed. Women were for recreation. Playing Canasta and such. On a job, they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around. One had to look out for them and take care of them.
"Bitch," said Bond, and then remembering the Muntzes, he said "bitch" again more loudly and walked out of the room.
Geez, Bond, you wanna wait until you meet the girl before you start picking out which patch of the garden you want to bury her in?
With Mathis gone, [Vesper's] attitude towards him showed a sudden warmth. She seemed to acknowledge that they were a team and, as they discussed the time and place of their meeting, Bond realized that it would be quite easy after all to plan the details of his project with her. He felt that after all she was interested and excited by her role and that she would work willingly with him. He had imagined many hurdles before establishing a rapport, but now he felt he could get straight down to professional details. He was quite honest to himself about the hypocrisy of his attitude towards her. As a woman, he wanted to sleep with her, but only when the job had been done.
Bond: The great feminist of our time. (I was being sarcastic there.)
He looked sleek and well-fed. His mouth hung vacantly half-open and revealed very bad teeth. He wore a heavy black moustache and the backs of his hands on the rail were matted with black hair. Bond guessed that hair covered most of his squat body. Naked, Bond supposed, he would be an obscene object.
As opposed to all those pretty men Bond imagines naked.
This was just what he had been afraid of. These blithering women who thought they could do a man's work. Why the hell couldn't they stay at home and mind their pots and pans and stick to their frocks and gossip and leave men's work to the men. And now for this to happen to him, just when the job had come off so beautifully. For Vesper to fall for an old trick like that and get herself snatched and probably held to ransom like some bloody heroine in a strip cartoon. The silly bitch.
Don't hold back, Bond, let us know how you really feel.
And yes, it does get worse.
From Russia, With Love
Skipping past the bit with the evil bull dyke Soviet spymaster...
"...But I was wild. I left the big house and went to live in two small rooms on the waterfront. I wanted to have my women where my mother would not know. There was a stroke of bad luck. I had a little Bessarabian hell-cat. I had won her in a fight with some gipsies, here in the hills behind Istanbul. They came after me, but I got her on board the boat. I had to knock her unconscious first. She was still trying to kill me when we got back to Trebizond, so I got her to my place and took awa yall her clothes and kept her chained naked under the table. When I ate, I used to throw scraps to her under the table, like a dog. She had to learn who was master. Before that could happen, my mother did an unheard of thing. She visited my place without warning. ... I was a cruel ne'er-do-well and she was ashamed to call me son. The girl must immediately be taken back to her people. My mother brought her some of her own clothes from the house. The girl put them on, but when the time came, she refused to leave me." Darko Kerim laughed hugely. "An interesting lesson in female psychology my dear friend."
And he's one of the good guys. Don't worry, he dies. All together now.
OH IAN FLEMING NO!
Live And Let Die
Leaving out the really painful 'phonetic' accents all the black characters are saddled with (if ever anything made you pine for Chris Claremont...).
It was a smart, decisive bit of driving, but what startled Bond was that it had been a negress at the wheel, a fine-looking negress in a black chauffeur's uniform ... Hardly anywhere in the world will you find a negress driving a car. A negress acting as chauffeur is still more extraordinary. Barely conceivable even in Harlem, but that was certainly where the car was from.
...what? I don't even... wait, what?
Bond laughed. "What an organization!" he said. "I'm sure it's all beautifully covered up and alibied. What a man! He certainly seems to have the run of this country. Just shows how one can push a democracy around, what with habeas corpus and human rights and all the rest. Glad we haven't got him on our hands in England. Wooden truncheons wouldn't make much of a dent in him."
James Bond/Jack Baucer OTP!
Goldfinger
Bond always mistrusted short men. They grew up form childhood with an inferiority complex. All their lives they would strive to be big -- bigger than the others who had teased them as a child. Napoleon had beenshort, and Hitler. It was the short men that caused all the trouble in the world.
Jesus, is there anyone Bond isn't prejudiced about? Archie Bunker is like a NAACP member next to this guy!
"Here--" Goldfinger took the cat from under his arm and tossed it to the Korean who caught it eagerly -- "I am tired of seeing this animal around. You may have it for dinner." The Korean's eyes gleamed.
"The ordinary bodyguard or detective is usually a retired policeman. Such men are valueless. ... they have a respect for human life. ... The Koreans have no such feelings. That is why the Japanese employed them as guards for their prison camps during the war. They are the cruellest, most ruthless people in the world. ... When they want women, street women are brought down from London, well remunerated for their services and sent back. The women are not much to look at, but they are white and that is all the Koreans ask -- to submit the white race to the grossest indignities."
Oh God, they make them watch Pootie Tang?
Bond thinks he's dead: Would Tilly be on the same trip? Bond squirmed with embarrassment. How would he introduce her to the others, to Vesper for instance? And when it came to the point, which would he like the best? But perhaps it would be a big place with countries and towns. There was probably no more reason why he should run into one of his former girl friends here than there had been on earth. But still there were a lot of people he'd better avoid until he got settled in and found out the form. Perhaps, with so much love about, these things wouldn't matter. Perhaps one just loved all the girls one met. Hm. Tricky business!
I really want Daniel Craig to do this scene in the next Bond movie.
The encounter put Bond in good humour. For some reason Goldfinger had decided against killing them. He wanted them alive. Soon Bond would know why he wanted them alive but, so long as he did, Bond intended to stay alive on his own terms. Those terms included putting Oddjob and any other Korean firmly in his place, which, in Bond's estimation, was rather lower than apes in the mammalian hierarchy.
Yet, strangely enough, still higher than Gilbert Gottfried.
"The team was unsuccessful, so she trained them as burglars, cat burglars. It grew into a gang of outstanding ruthlessness. It is a Lesbian organization which now calls itself 'The Cement Mixers'". Even the big American gangs respect them."
Is it just me, or does that sound like one of the movies![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trancer21 makes fake posters for?
Miss Galore held his eyes. She said "Pardon my asking" with the curt tone of a hard woman shopper at the sales. BWAHAHAHA! Super metaphor!
Bond liked the look of her. He felt the sexual challenge all beautiful Lesbians have for men. He was amused by the uncompromising attitude that said to Goldfinger and to the room, 'All men are bastards and cheats. Don't try any masculine hocus on me. I don't go for it. I'm in a separate league.'
A man-hating lesbian? Why, if she's turned straight later and was molested as a child, we could have a trifact!
She thought Miss Pussy Galore was 'divine'. She somehow seemed to count on her to get her out of this mess. ... Bond came to the conclusion that Tilly Masterton was one of those girls whose hormones had got mixed up. He knew the type well and thought they and their male counterparts were a direct consequence of giving votes to women and 'sex quality'. As a result of fifty years of emancipation, feminine qualities were dying out or being transferred to the males. Pansies of both sexes were everywhere, not yet completely homosexual, but confused, not knowing what they were. The result was a hard of unhappy sexual misfits -- barren and full of frustrations, the women wanting to dominate and them en to be nannied. He was sorry for them, but he had no time for them.
Ah, I see Bond's been reading yaoi manga.
...
I'll show myself out. Tilly later dies horribly because she wants to stay with Pussy and doesn't listen to Bond. My, how far we've come. But wait, what about Pussy Galore, Lesbian Super-Criminal?
Bond said firmly, "Lock the door, Pussy, take off that sweater and come into bed. You'll catch cold."
She did as she was told, like an obedient child.
She lay in the crook of Bond's arm and looked up at him. She said, not in a gangster's voice, or a Lesbian's, but in a girl's voice, "Will you write to me in Sing Sing?"
Bond looked down into the deep blue-violet eyes that were no longer hard, imperious. He bent and kissed them lightly. "Ick, tastes like contact solution!" He said, "They told me you only liked women."
She said, "I never met a man before." "I thought you were all really butch chicks." We're two for three, THIS COULD. GO. ALL. THE. WAY! The toughness came back into her voice. "I come from the South. You know the definition of a virgin down there? Well, it's a girl who can run faster than her brother. In my case I couldn't run as fast as my uncle. I was twelve. That's not so good, James. You ought to be able to guess that." TRIFECTA! WE HAVE A TRIFECTA! PUSSY GALORE IS THE MOST OFFENSIVELY STEREOTYPED LESBIAN OF THE YEAR!
Bond smiled down into the pale, beautiful face. He said, "All you need is a course of T.L.C."
"What's T.L.C.?"
"Short for Tender Loving Care treatment. It's what they write on most papers when a waif gets brought in to a children's clinic."
Bond literally has a Healing Cock! I wonder if Q Branch gave it to him...
Casino Royale
Bond sat at the window and gathered his thoughts. Nothing that Mathis had told him was reassuring. He was completely blown and under really professional surveillance. ... And then there was this pest of a girl. He sighed. Women were for recreation. Playing Canasta and such. On a job, they got in the way and fogged things up with sex and hurt feelings and all the emotional baggage they carried around. One had to look out for them and take care of them.
"Bitch," said Bond, and then remembering the Muntzes, he said "bitch" again more loudly and walked out of the room.
Geez, Bond, you wanna wait until you meet the girl before you start picking out which patch of the garden you want to bury her in?
With Mathis gone, [Vesper's] attitude towards him showed a sudden warmth. She seemed to acknowledge that they were a team and, as they discussed the time and place of their meeting, Bond realized that it would be quite easy after all to plan the details of his project with her. He felt that after all she was interested and excited by her role and that she would work willingly with him. He had imagined many hurdles before establishing a rapport, but now he felt he could get straight down to professional details. He was quite honest to himself about the hypocrisy of his attitude towards her. As a woman, he wanted to sleep with her, but only when the job had been done.
Bond: The great feminist of our time. (I was being sarcastic there.)
He looked sleek and well-fed. His mouth hung vacantly half-open and revealed very bad teeth. He wore a heavy black moustache and the backs of his hands on the rail were matted with black hair. Bond guessed that hair covered most of his squat body. Naked, Bond supposed, he would be an obscene object.
As opposed to all those pretty men Bond imagines naked.
This was just what he had been afraid of. These blithering women who thought they could do a man's work. Why the hell couldn't they stay at home and mind their pots and pans and stick to their frocks and gossip and leave men's work to the men. And now for this to happen to him, just when the job had come off so beautifully. For Vesper to fall for an old trick like that and get herself snatched and probably held to ransom like some bloody heroine in a strip cartoon. The silly bitch.
Don't hold back, Bond, let us know how you really feel.
And yes, it does get worse.
From Russia, With Love
Skipping past the bit with the evil bull dyke Soviet spymaster...
"...But I was wild. I left the big house and went to live in two small rooms on the waterfront. I wanted to have my women where my mother would not know. There was a stroke of bad luck. I had a little Bessarabian hell-cat. I had won her in a fight with some gipsies, here in the hills behind Istanbul. They came after me, but I got her on board the boat. I had to knock her unconscious first. She was still trying to kill me when we got back to Trebizond, so I got her to my place and took awa yall her clothes and kept her chained naked under the table. When I ate, I used to throw scraps to her under the table, like a dog. She had to learn who was master. Before that could happen, my mother did an unheard of thing. She visited my place without warning. ... I was a cruel ne'er-do-well and she was ashamed to call me son. The girl must immediately be taken back to her people. My mother brought her some of her own clothes from the house. The girl put them on, but when the time came, she refused to leave me." Darko Kerim laughed hugely. "An interesting lesson in female psychology my dear friend."
And he's one of the good guys. Don't worry, he dies. All together now.
OH IAN FLEMING NO!
Live And Let Die
Leaving out the really painful 'phonetic' accents all the black characters are saddled with (if ever anything made you pine for Chris Claremont...).
It was a smart, decisive bit of driving, but what startled Bond was that it had been a negress at the wheel, a fine-looking negress in a black chauffeur's uniform ... Hardly anywhere in the world will you find a negress driving a car. A negress acting as chauffeur is still more extraordinary. Barely conceivable even in Harlem, but that was certainly where the car was from.
...what? I don't even... wait, what?
Bond laughed. "What an organization!" he said. "I'm sure it's all beautifully covered up and alibied. What a man! He certainly seems to have the run of this country. Just shows how one can push a democracy around, what with habeas corpus and human rights and all the rest. Glad we haven't got him on our hands in England. Wooden truncheons wouldn't make much of a dent in him."
James Bond/Jack Baucer OTP!
Goldfinger
Bond always mistrusted short men. They grew up form childhood with an inferiority complex. All their lives they would strive to be big -- bigger than the others who had teased them as a child. Napoleon had beenshort, and Hitler. It was the short men that caused all the trouble in the world.
Jesus, is there anyone Bond isn't prejudiced about? Archie Bunker is like a NAACP member next to this guy!
"Here--" Goldfinger took the cat from under his arm and tossed it to the Korean who caught it eagerly -- "I am tired of seeing this animal around. You may have it for dinner." The Korean's eyes gleamed.
"The ordinary bodyguard or detective is usually a retired policeman. Such men are valueless. ... they have a respect for human life. ... The Koreans have no such feelings. That is why the Japanese employed them as guards for their prison camps during the war. They are the cruellest, most ruthless people in the world. ... When they want women, street women are brought down from London, well remunerated for their services and sent back. The women are not much to look at, but they are white and that is all the Koreans ask -- to submit the white race to the grossest indignities."
Oh God, they make them watch Pootie Tang?
Bond thinks he's dead: Would Tilly be on the same trip? Bond squirmed with embarrassment. How would he introduce her to the others, to Vesper for instance? And when it came to the point, which would he like the best? But perhaps it would be a big place with countries and towns. There was probably no more reason why he should run into one of his former girl friends here than there had been on earth. But still there were a lot of people he'd better avoid until he got settled in and found out the form. Perhaps, with so much love about, these things wouldn't matter. Perhaps one just loved all the girls one met. Hm. Tricky business!
I really want Daniel Craig to do this scene in the next Bond movie.
The encounter put Bond in good humour. For some reason Goldfinger had decided against killing them. He wanted them alive. Soon Bond would know why he wanted them alive but, so long as he did, Bond intended to stay alive on his own terms. Those terms included putting Oddjob and any other Korean firmly in his place, which, in Bond's estimation, was rather lower than apes in the mammalian hierarchy.
Yet, strangely enough, still higher than Gilbert Gottfried.
"The team was unsuccessful, so she trained them as burglars, cat burglars. It grew into a gang of outstanding ruthlessness. It is a Lesbian organization which now calls itself 'The Cement Mixers'". Even the big American gangs respect them."
Is it just me, or does that sound like one of the movies
trancer21 makes fake posters for?Miss Galore held his eyes. She said "Pardon my asking" with the curt tone of a hard woman shopper at the sales. BWAHAHAHA! Super metaphor!
Bond liked the look of her. He felt the sexual challenge all beautiful Lesbians have for men. He was amused by the uncompromising attitude that said to Goldfinger and to the room, 'All men are bastards and cheats. Don't try any masculine hocus on me. I don't go for it. I'm in a separate league.'
A man-hating lesbian? Why, if she's turned straight later and was molested as a child, we could have a trifact!
She thought Miss Pussy Galore was 'divine'. She somehow seemed to count on her to get her out of this mess. ... Bond came to the conclusion that Tilly Masterton was one of those girls whose hormones had got mixed up. He knew the type well and thought they and their male counterparts were a direct consequence of giving votes to women and 'sex quality'. As a result of fifty years of emancipation, feminine qualities were dying out or being transferred to the males. Pansies of both sexes were everywhere, not yet completely homosexual, but confused, not knowing what they were. The result was a hard of unhappy sexual misfits -- barren and full of frustrations, the women wanting to dominate and them en to be nannied. He was sorry for them, but he had no time for them.
Ah, I see Bond's been reading yaoi manga.
...
I'll show myself out. Tilly later dies horribly because she wants to stay with Pussy and doesn't listen to Bond. My, how far we've come. But wait, what about Pussy Galore, Lesbian Super-Criminal?
Bond said firmly, "Lock the door, Pussy, take off that sweater and come into bed. You'll catch cold."
She did as she was told, like an obedient child.
She lay in the crook of Bond's arm and looked up at him. She said, not in a gangster's voice, or a Lesbian's, but in a girl's voice, "Will you write to me in Sing Sing?"
Bond looked down into the deep blue-violet eyes that were no longer hard, imperious. He bent and kissed them lightly. "Ick, tastes like contact solution!" He said, "They told me you only liked women."
She said, "I never met a man before." "I thought you were all really butch chicks." We're two for three, THIS COULD. GO. ALL. THE. WAY! The toughness came back into her voice. "I come from the South. You know the definition of a virgin down there? Well, it's a girl who can run faster than her brother. In my case I couldn't run as fast as my uncle. I was twelve. That's not so good, James. You ought to be able to guess that." TRIFECTA! WE HAVE A TRIFECTA! PUSSY GALORE IS THE MOST OFFENSIVELY STEREOTYPED LESBIAN OF THE YEAR!
Bond smiled down into the pale, beautiful face. He said, "All you need is a course of T.L.C."
"What's T.L.C.?"
"Short for Tender Loving Care treatment. It's what they write on most papers when a waif gets brought in to a children's clinic."
Bond literally has a Healing Cock! I wonder if Q Branch gave it to him...
no subject
no subject
And people complain about the movie spending too much time on James and Vesper's abortive happily ever after?
no subject
I'm still trying to figure out if this was mostly a satirical movement on Fleming's part of whether he was totally serious when he wrote these.
Probably deadly serious. Like, James Bond serious.no subject
Mind you, I'm not entirely certain he saw Bond the way Fleming intended, but...
Warning: Teal deer crossing
Of course, as a fanficcer, I tend to subtract a lot of authorial intent when I think of characters. James Bond the character should be separate from Ian Fleming the author, especially when it comes to Ian Fleming's prejudices that unfortunately spill over into his work. It's like how everyone knows that Peter Parker would never make a deal with the Devil, throw Mary-Jane under a bus, or cling to Aunt May against her own wishes; but, because of Joe Quesada and his ilk's personal peccadillos, Spider-Man is being written against Spider-Man.
You ever feel like it's possible for a writer to be a bad steward of a character they themselves created? (cough Deathly Hallows, cough cough!)
Interestingly enough, while the Bond in the movies shows no qualms about killing (and, obviously, doesn't share his counterpart's feelings on women and minorities), the literary Bond is set against it. In Goldfinger, he's taking a sabbatical to deal with his disgust over being forced to kill in self-defense and in Living Daylights, he deliberately spares the life of a sniper he's been ordered to kill.
no subject