Y’know sometimes there is nothing better in life than stumbling across (or in my case being most definitely prodded towards) a long series of books that are unapologetic and unrelenting in their capacity to entertain. one such (thank you Karina) is the “Modesty Blaise” series which sprang from the comic strip of the same name. These books are shamelessly addictive (I’m currently on number 8…with all the rest lined up on my coffee table waiting their turn (thank you again K)) and despite being written in the seventies and eighties, they are still very fresh. Oh, there are no mobile phones or pagers, and there’s no internet or e-mail but somehow that just adds to their charm. Modesty herself is perhaps one of the greatest female characters ever written, and I can write that without a hint of a self-conscious wince in the direction of the classics, because she has a hell of a back-story (pieces of which are revealed throughout the series) and while constant, can also be surprising, as you’d expect from a “real” person (in contrast to the 2D cut-outs so often prevalent in books). To call her the female James Bond is to do her a disservice, she is more like a more believable and less cruel Tank Girl, the books portary her as feminine, highly intelligent, loyal, witty and deadly if she’s crossed. Thankfully, she can’t sing, cook or sew so she’s not some idealised woman (actually, I felt quite gratified when the not-sewing bit came up, at least I had something in common with this ass-kicking wonder of a woman), and her relationship with her right-hand-man Willie Garvin is cleverly drawn, he himself would be worth a book or two on his own, with his loyalty, humour, often surprising gentleness and his tendancy to attempt to confound Modesty by using obscure words in everyday conversation. Gentle running gags like that one lighten the tone when things (inevitably) turn nasty, and if the heroes are well drawn, the villains are an interesting array of psychological case studies, all of them wholly believable. The show-downs that finish the books are mostly “having to fight their way out of an impossibly tight place with the odds overwhelmingly stacked against them”, but somehow each book manages to make even that seem fresh.
Peter O’Donnell, I salute you.
Oh, and the most recent movie (in 2003) wasn’t all that bad, just unforgiveably boring and banal for anyone who has read the books. Not enough going on, you see. And no Willie. Since Peter O’Donnell has said he doesn’t want any more films made (don’t blame him, people really don’t seem to be able to capture the essence of the books or the central characters at all) it’s unlikely we’ll ever see the mooted Tarantino version – and possibly this is a good thing, though I’m sure he’d handle the action parts very well, not sure about what he’d do with the characters though.
Digression aside, if you want to read some seriously fun books, get your hands on these. I doubt you’ll regret it.
