Faulks, while closely adhering to Fleming's streamlined style, works more of a 21st sensibility into the proceedings. Fairly absent is the casual racism that marred Fleming's works, a product of their time that always left me a little queasy. Faulks' take on the secret agent shows a little alteration as well. This Bond is slower to anger, more aware of others. Less of a sociopath, I'd guess you'd say, and a little closer to the movie Bonds in spirit. This has its good points and less-than-good points. Part of the real appeal of the literary manifestations of Bond was how absolutely ruthless he was, ruthlessness of a level rarely seen in the films - although Quantum of Solace (highly and unfairly regarded as a lesser Bond, in my opinion) was likely the closest we've come to seeing Bond as the conscience-absent machine of the novels. Seeing Bond develop feelings for Scarlet was a crack in his emotional armour that may have signified a new growth and maturity for the uber-spy, but felt false.

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