On Her Majesty’s Secret Service: Look, it’s Ursula!

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service by Ian Fleming

Ian Fleming‘s 11th James Bond book, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, was written, as was the author’s wont, while on vacation at his Goldeneye retreat on the north shore of Jamaica, at Oracabessa, in the winter of 1962 … coincidentally, not far from where filming for the original 007 movie, Dr. No, was taking place at that same time. OHMSS, which was initially released in April 1963, is the middle segment of what has come to be known as THE BLOFELD TRILOGY, which began with 1961’s Thunderball (in which Bond and Blofeld do not meet) and concluded with 1964’s You Only Live Twice. (1962’s The Spy Who Loved Me, which followed Thunderball, was practically a peaceful interlude for Bond by comparison!) I hadn’t read OHMSS in over 50 years, but had fond memories of it being one of the best of the author’s 14-book series, and a recent rereading has served to demonstrate how accurate my memories have been. This is one of the most suspenseful of the Bond outings, although not the most action packed, and features what is undoubtedly the most emotionally devastating wrap-up of all Bond novels. Approaching its 62^nd birthday as I write these words, the book seems dated not one bit (unlike, for example, certain references in Thunderball) and still retains its ability to thrill.

In the book – for those who might not be aware, at this late date – Bond meets a suicidal young woman named Tracy di Vicenzo while at the gaming tables in (the fictitious French town of) Royale-les-Eaux, whose casino had been spotlighted in the first 007 novel, 1953’s Casino Royale. Tracy’s father is no less a figure than Marc-Ange Draco, the head of the Union Corse, the Corsican equivalent of the Mafia, who gives Bond a lead as to the whereabouts of his old nemesis, Ernst Stavro Blofeld. It seems that Blofeld has been applying at the U.K.’s College of Arms for confirmation that he is the heir to the hereditary title Count de Bleuville, and so off Bond goes, disguised as a bookish College of Arms researcher, to Blofeld’s lair atop (the again fictitious) Piz Gloria, high in the Swiss Alps. And once there, he uncovers a fiendish plot involving biological warfare and “ten gorgeous girls”…

As mentioned above, OHMSS is not as action intensive as some of the other 007 titles but does yet feature two outstanding set pieces. In the first, Bond makes a dangerous nighttime escape via skis from Blofeld’s lair, narrowly avoiding being engulfed by an avalanche; in the second, Bond pursues Blofeld down a treacherous run on skeleton bobs. Otherwise, this is more of a novel of suspense, as our undercover superspy investigates the master criminal’s setup. The novel lets us see a 007 who is on the verge of quitting the Service; a more emotional Bond who decides that he is ready for marriage and “fed up with all these untidy, casual affairs that leave [him] with a bad conscience”! The book introduces us to Bond’s new secretary, Mary Goodnight; shows us a side of Bond’s chief, M, that we had not seen before; and even, amidst the suspense and thrills, features some nice bits of humor. For example, in one scene, Irma Bunt (Blofeld’s hideous “secretary”) points out the many celebrities visiting Piz Gloria, including Ursula Andress (the female lead in Dr. No, mind warpingly enough)! Also, how amusing it is when Blofeld’s birthday is revealed to be May 28, 1908 … the same as the author’s! The novel also features what has come to be known as the “Fleming sweep” – a rapid pace that carries the reader along from chapter to chapter, and the utilization of an abundance of detail to engender a sense of absolute realism – to a marked degree; indeed, the amount of detail in the book is simply staggering. This reader encountered a good 285 references that sent him scurrying for help to the atlas, German and French dictionaries, and the assorted Interwebs for assistance; still, the result was a fuller, deeper appreciation of a page-turner that most folks would deem unputdownable. Good as Fleming is, though (and make no mistake … he is a terrific writer), a close reading will reveal some inadvertent boo-boos. For example, during Bond’s southerly helicopter flight to Piz Gloria, the mountains known as the Silvretta Group are said to be “away to starboard,” although a map check reveals that they should be toward Bond’s left. That helicopter is said to be a “bright orange Alouette,” although Bond later describes it as being yellow. One of the 10 girls says that Bond was discussing the possibility of Irma Bunt being a duchess “at lunch today,” whereas that conversation had actually transpired at dinner the previous evening. Finally, Fleming gets the name of a genealogy book wrong; it should be Burke’s Extinct and Dormant Baronetcies, not …Baronetage. Of course, this is mere nitpicking. OHMSS is, quite simply, a tremendous addition to the Bond canon, and one whose ending should leave most readers both shaken AND stirred, if not teary eyed.

A brief word on the 1969 filmization, a picture that has been belittled and disparaged ever since its initial release. It is a wonderfully faithful adaptation, and the small changes that the filmmakers incorporated (e.g., the suspenseful safecracking scene, the courtship interlude, Tracy’s presence during the avalanche) all serve the film very well. George Lazenby, in his only go at being Bond, is just fine, despite what the naysayers would have you believe; Diana Rigg is, naturally, the classiest of all the “Bond girls”; and Telly Savalas makes for an imposing Blofeld (if hardly the Blofeld described in Fleming’s book). Easily the best of the non-Connery Bond films, OHMSS boasts some tremendous action sequences, thrilling theme music and a lovely contribution from Louis Armstrong. And, of course, it boasts the only tear-jerking finale of all 25 (to date) Bond pictures. The film was largely shot at one of the world’s first revolving restaurants, which was just being constructed at the time, atop the Schilthorn (2,974 meters high), near Murren, Switzerland, in the area known as the Oberland. The restaurant, later christened the Piz Gloria (!), is still very much in operation today. Boy, would I love to go!