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Love and Let Die: James Bond, The Beatles, and the British Psyche
A deep-dive into the unique connections between the two titans of the British cultural psyche—the Beatles and the Bond films—and what they tell us about class, sexuality, and our aspirations over sixty dramatic years.
The Beatles are the biggest band in the history of pop music. James Bond is the single most successful movie character of all time. They are also twins. Dr No, the first Bond film, and Love Me Do, the first Beatles record, were both released on the same Friday 5 October 1962. Most countries can only dream of a cultural export becoming a worldwide phenomenon on this scale. For Britain to produce two iconic successes on this level, on the same windy October afternoon, is unprecedented.
Bond and the Beatles present us with opposing values, visions of the British culture, and ideas about sexual identity. Love and Let Die is the story of a clash between working class liberation and establishment control, and how it exploded on the global stage. It explains why James Bond hated the Beatles, why Paul McCartney wanted to be Bond, and why it was Ringo who won the heart of a Bond Girl in the end.
Told over a period of sixty dramatic years, this is an account of how two outsized cultural phenomena continue to define American aspirations, fantasies, and our ideas about ourselves. Looking at these two touchstones in this new context will forever change how you see the Beatles, the James Bond films, and six decades of cross-Atlantic popular culture.
The Beatles are the biggest band in the history of pop music. James Bond is the single most successful movie character of all time. They are also twins. Dr No, the first Bond film, and Love Me Do, the first Beatles record, were both released on the same Friday 5 October 1962. Most countries can only dream of a cultural export becoming a worldwide phenomenon on this scale. For Britain to produce two iconic successes on this level, on the same windy October afternoon, is unprecedented.
Bond and the Beatles present us with opposing values, visions of the British culture, and ideas about sexual identity. Love and Let Die is the story of a clash between working class liberation and establishment control, and how it exploded on the global stage. It explains why James Bond hated the Beatles, why Paul McCartney wanted to be Bond, and why it was Ringo who won the heart of a Bond Girl in the end.
Told over a period of sixty dramatic years, this is an account of how two outsized cultural phenomena continue to define American aspirations, fantasies, and our ideas about ourselves. Looking at these two touchstones in this new context will forever change how you see the Beatles, the James Bond films, and six decades of cross-Atlantic popular culture.
518 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 7, 2023
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 72 reviews
March 29, 2024
4.5 stars
"Friday 5 October 1962 saw [both] the release of 'Love Me Do,' the first record by the Beatles, and 'Dr. No,' the first James Bond film. The Beatles were about to become the most successful and important band in history. Not to be outdone, James Bond would go on to become the single most successful movie character ever. The music industry and the film industry would be entirely changed by these new arrivals. So too would the international reputation of Britain . . . " -- on page 2
Actor Adam West once opined that there were three important pop cultural B's during the 1960's - Beatles, Bond, and Batman. (His take on this is sort of inarguable - he starred as the Caped Crusader in the wildly popular TV series, plus was offered but refused the role of 007 after Sean Connery's acrimonious departure in 1968.) So linking Bond and the Beatles in a historical / sociological context is not exactly a curious idea for a book, but author Higgs has created quite the stimulating read with his equally entertaining and informative tome Love and Let Die: James Bond, The Beatles, and the British Psyche. While I had remarked to a GR friend that the text is occasionally 'veddy British' - as in some references that would be best-appreciated or -understood by a citizen of the U.K. - I think that if you are a fan / follower of either the innovative rock group OR the fictional cinematic spy that this is not to be missed. (Although an obvious point, author Higgs correctly notes how both 'titans' have some incredible durability - the Beatles' music seems to inspire devoted new fans every subsequent generation since their split in 1970, and Bond is the 'king of sequels' with 25 official films in under 60 years.) However, the book does not simply rehash old stories - there are enlightening segments as well - but feels like it brings something new or refreshing to the Bondian and Beatlesque table in comparing and contrasting their unique impact on England and then the world. (Also, it does not cover merely the Connery-headlined 007 movies of the 60's, but the entire film series up to actor Daniel Craig's recent swan song in the role.). About the only sour note is the author's increasingly sharp or divisive political opinions that were most apparent in the closing chapters, but - shaken, not stirred - I won't let that ruin my enjoyment of the previous 95% of narrative. Yeah, yeah, yeah!!! 😉
"Friday 5 October 1962 saw [both] the release of 'Love Me Do,' the first record by the Beatles, and 'Dr. No,' the first James Bond film. The Beatles were about to become the most successful and important band in history. Not to be outdone, James Bond would go on to become the single most successful movie character ever. The music industry and the film industry would be entirely changed by these new arrivals. So too would the international reputation of Britain . . . " -- on page 2
Actor Adam West once opined that there were three important pop cultural B's during the 1960's - Beatles, Bond, and Batman. (His take on this is sort of inarguable - he starred as the Caped Crusader in the wildly popular TV series, plus was offered but refused the role of 007 after Sean Connery's acrimonious departure in 1968.) So linking Bond and the Beatles in a historical / sociological context is not exactly a curious idea for a book, but author Higgs has created quite the stimulating read with his equally entertaining and informative tome Love and Let Die: James Bond, The Beatles, and the British Psyche. While I had remarked to a GR friend that the text is occasionally 'veddy British' - as in some references that would be best-appreciated or -understood by a citizen of the U.K. - I think that if you are a fan / follower of either the innovative rock group OR the fictional cinematic spy that this is not to be missed. (Although an obvious point, author Higgs correctly notes how both 'titans' have some incredible durability - the Beatles' music seems to inspire devoted new fans every subsequent generation since their split in 1970, and Bond is the 'king of sequels' with 25 official films in under 60 years.) However, the book does not simply rehash old stories - there are enlightening segments as well - but feels like it brings something new or refreshing to the Bondian and Beatlesque table in comparing and contrasting their unique impact on England and then the world. (Also, it does not cover merely the Connery-headlined 007 movies of the 60's, but the entire film series up to actor Daniel Craig's recent swan song in the role.). About the only sour note is the author's increasingly sharp or divisive political opinions that were most apparent in the closing chapters, but - shaken, not stirred - I won't let that ruin my enjoyment of the previous 95% of narrative. Yeah, yeah, yeah!!! 😉
September 26, 2022
I've been a big fan of John Higgs since reading The KLF: Chaos, Magic and the Band Who Burned a Million Pounds.
He's one of a select band of writers whose books I pre-order. John Higgs has that incredible knack of making complex ideas simple, and finding fascinating connections between seemingly unrelated subjects. So it is with Love and Let Die: The Beatles, James Bond, and the British Psyche (2022) in which he takes the reader by the arm accompanying them along the avenues and alleyways of the careers and afterlives of both The Beatles and James Bond.
The starting point for this captivating book is the curious coincidence that Love Me Do, the Beatles first single, was released the same day as the first James Bond film, Dr No. Yep, both were released on Friday 5 October 1962. No one would then could possibly have guessed then that the Beatles music would be even more popular 60 years later, or that the Bond franchise would still be going.
James Bond and the Beatles embody two very different attitudes to masculinity and Englishness. As usual John Higgs tentatively raises possible interpretations of the numerous fascinating connections he unearths. It's solid gold and as much a political and social history of the last 60 years as a book about Bond and the Fabs. I was enthralled from start to finish. If any of that sounds like your sort of thing then don't hesitate, and then read his other books.
5/5
It’s the story of two clashing world views that took the form of implausible global culture-shaping phenomena. These both emerged on the same windy Friday nearly sixty years ago - on 5 October 1962. Telling their stories together offers a wealth of new insights and perspectives about this strange split country - along with its strengths, its delusions and its place in the world. You don’t have to be heavily invested in either Bond or the Beatles, I think, to get a lot out of this.
There’s an extra treat for those who choose the audiobook - after my reading, there’s a special edition of I Am The Eggpod at the end, in which host Chris Shaw interviews me about Bond and the Beatles. If you are new to this podcast and have any interest in the Beatles, I wholeheartedly recommend it - it manages to capture how inclusive and joyful the world of Beatle fandom can be, especially in comparison to other modern fandoms.
He's one of a select band of writers whose books I pre-order. John Higgs has that incredible knack of making complex ideas simple, and finding fascinating connections between seemingly unrelated subjects. So it is with Love and Let Die: The Beatles, James Bond, and the British Psyche (2022) in which he takes the reader by the arm accompanying them along the avenues and alleyways of the careers and afterlives of both The Beatles and James Bond.
The starting point for this captivating book is the curious coincidence that Love Me Do, the Beatles first single, was released the same day as the first James Bond film, Dr No. Yep, both were released on Friday 5 October 1962. No one would then could possibly have guessed then that the Beatles music would be even more popular 60 years later, or that the Bond franchise would still be going.
James Bond and the Beatles embody two very different attitudes to masculinity and Englishness. As usual John Higgs tentatively raises possible interpretations of the numerous fascinating connections he unearths. It's solid gold and as much a political and social history of the last 60 years as a book about Bond and the Fabs. I was enthralled from start to finish. If any of that sounds like your sort of thing then don't hesitate, and then read his other books.
5/5
It’s the story of two clashing world views that took the form of implausible global culture-shaping phenomena. These both emerged on the same windy Friday nearly sixty years ago - on 5 October 1962. Telling their stories together offers a wealth of new insights and perspectives about this strange split country - along with its strengths, its delusions and its place in the world. You don’t have to be heavily invested in either Bond or the Beatles, I think, to get a lot out of this.
There’s an extra treat for those who choose the audiobook - after my reading, there’s a special edition of I Am The Eggpod at the end, in which host Chris Shaw interviews me about Bond and the Beatles. If you are new to this podcast and have any interest in the Beatles, I wholeheartedly recommend it - it manages to capture how inclusive and joyful the world of Beatle fandom can be, especially in comparison to other modern fandoms.
May 19, 2023
In Love and Let Die, Higgs compares and contrasts the two biggest entertainment monsters to come out of the Sixties, the Fab Four and Fleming’s 007 movie franchise. He views the Beatles as Eros and Bond as Thanatos. The Beatles are the creative new blasting away all rock music before them and Bond is the machismo masculine proper gentleman of British nobility representing the status quo as compared to the long haired hippie LSD world of late Sixties Beatles. The comparisons are interesting from an intellectual level, but the real strength of this book is the detailed studies of Beatles and Bind history interspersed in alternating chapters. Reading through this book, the reader can see how the Beatles and the Bond franchise both were shaped by societal changes and helped shape modern society. A must read for fans of either the Beatles or Bond or both.
May 1, 2023
Considering it’s subject matter, not nearly enough Ringo in the book.
April 20, 2023
John Higgs meanders through the postwar British psyche juxtaposing the "eros" of the Beatles with the "thanatos" of Bond. The concluding chapter brings together interesting ideas about changing male identity in the UK and while you might wonder where the book is going in the middle sections, Higgs is entertaining enough that it's not bothersome. I certainly learned a lot about Ian Fleming and the Beatles!
December 26, 2022
Hmmm, a mash-up of Bond and the Beatles using Love and Death as its banner themes. I thought this might be a bit compare-and-contrast-A-Level-essay - but I was completely wrong. It must have been a real challenge to draw the colossal wealth of existing material about both The Beatles and James Bond together, and come up with something genuinely new, bold and surprising. This book succeeds in its endeavour completely. It pulls no punches and is as unafraid to prick pomposity as it is to revise reputation. It is also, for students of 20th and 21st cultural phenomena, an absolute wealth of anecdote. Who knew Christopher Lee, connected to both Beatles and Bond, had such a fascinating life and spoke eight languages, including Swedish? Or that George Harrison had such a terrible temper? I particularly loved Higgs' insights into where Bond might go next (after the surprise ending of No Time To Die) and his thoughts on Lennon's death.
What's more, taking a cue from Ringo's drumming or Bond's relentless pursuit of the villain, this book absolutely hammers along. I have rarely found it difficult to put a history book down, but this has been the exception.
Outstanding, entertaining, illuminating work of the very highest calibre.
What's more, taking a cue from Ringo's drumming or Bond's relentless pursuit of the villain, this book absolutely hammers along. I have rarely found it difficult to put a history book down, but this has been the exception.
Outstanding, entertaining, illuminating work of the very highest calibre.
March 19, 2024
Fascinating book, examining the twin cultural influences of James Bond and The Beatles on British identity. Did you know that both the first James Bond film (Dr. No) and the first Beatles single (Love Me Do) were released on the same day in 1962 ? Higgs brilliantly expands from the idea that Bond represents Death, while The Beatles represent Love, tracking the progress of these 2 iconic, uniquely British entities across the decades, measuring the social and political impact they both have had. Both complex and entertaining, this book will make you re-think your opinions on these global phenomenons.
January 15, 2023
Not quite the madcap romp that the KLF book was but more of a sideways look back at British pop culture and how it has led opinions and trends over the years. Maybe now Bond will have to follow?
March 23, 2023
I was sceptical of this book as I believed it would be a series of tenuous links between the Beatles and James Bond. Instead, it is a fascinating social history of Britain with interesting insights into the Beatles and Bond phenomena. The last couple of chapters do tail off a bit as the author relies more on his own personal psychological theories. However, overall, the book is well written, well paced and cleverly weaves together the story of the two cultural icons and their impact on the UK and the world.
February 16, 2023
On October 5th 1962, what was either an amusing coincidence or the first shots of a meta-cultural battle for the soul of the United Kingdom, its people and the world at large occurred. On that day, the first single by the Beatles, "Love Me Do", was released alongside the first James Bond movie, "Dr. No". This would make them twins, rivals and, if you believe the latter thesis, diametrically opposed forces battling to reshape the way we see ourselves in their image. John Higgs believes the latter. It's an intriguing and irresistable idea. Unfortunately, Higgs doesn't make his case as strong as he perhaps could.
The book is an interesting and enjoyable read. Each chapter is themed around a year which represents a particular milestone in the existence of both Beatles and Bond, which in turn acts as a general springboard for a particular theme Higgs wants to develop. Higgs presents a fascinating overview of how ex-intelligence officer and frustrated imperialist arch-creep Ian Fleming fused his various neuroses about both the decline of the British Empire and his sexual hangups into a character who would become the ultimate ideal of masculinity, for better or worse. And naturally, the patrician and patriarchal symbol and defender of the establishment proves an irresistible foil to the scruffily charming lads from Liverpool who revolutionised popular music and became working class(ish) heroes. Higgs does raise some fascinating points and parallels -- in particular, I'm not sure I'd ever considered George "The Spiritual One" Harrison to be the closest Beatle to James "The Materialistic Assassin One" Bond before reading this book, but Higgs makes a case for it that's pretty damn compelling. Higgs’ take on John Lennon, arguably the most controversial and divisive Beatle, is also clear-eyed yet compassionate.
Unfortunately, while there are some individual nuggets of gold to be found throughout, the book's overall case is ultimately somewhat less than the sum of its parts. It's hard to shake the feeling at times that Higgs has come up with an absolutely wonderful thesis based on a fascinating cultural overlap, but has realised partway through writing that there's not actually enough to it to hang his hat on. He does establish a mythological parallel with the Beatles representing Eros (love) and Bond representing Thanatos (death) throughout, but it's a little bit, well, obvious. Particularly in the second half, large parts of the book tend to read like separate discussions of the two subjects beyond occasional mentions of, say, a Beatle attending a Bond premiere or some potentially intriguing but contentiously underdeveloped parallels like Phil Spector and Allan Klein being sort of like the Beatles' version of SPECTRE (which, not saying it's not an interesting take, but still, gonna need to see your working out a bit more clearly there, John).
It also doesn't really help that Higgs is clearly more interested in and affectionate towards the Beatles and their side of the 'conflict' than Fleming/Bond's, devoting more space to them throughout the book. This in itself is not fundamentally a problem -- Ian Fleming does, in fact, sound like a racist, sexually weird and rather dysfunctionally imperialist ass, and I too would overall prefer listening to "Revolver" than watching "Thunderball". But on the flipside, I'm not the one writing a book purporting to focus on both of them as equal cultural titans warring for the soul of an entire culture and concept of masculinity. Furthermore, Higgs also has a charming but at times unfortunate and frustrating tendency to meander from point to point without really making the connections between them clear and tends to focus on certain periods and mediums more than others -- for example, fans of Roger Moore might find themselves surprised by how little he's mentioned (fans of Dalton, perhaps less so). Furthermore, a case hinging on the parallel between the Beatles and Bond’s film incarnations tends to focus less on the films and more on the books to draw supporting evidence at times. Readers may also find the book's slightly shruggy "well, the real answer's somewhere in between 'em, innit?" conclusion a bit of a let-down.
At the end of it, this is an enjoyable and engaging but ultimately somewhat disappointing read. There's a fabulous premise and some interesting ideas here, but sometimes a coincidence might, in fact, just be a coincidence.
3.5/5
The book is an interesting and enjoyable read. Each chapter is themed around a year which represents a particular milestone in the existence of both Beatles and Bond, which in turn acts as a general springboard for a particular theme Higgs wants to develop. Higgs presents a fascinating overview of how ex-intelligence officer and frustrated imperialist arch-creep Ian Fleming fused his various neuroses about both the decline of the British Empire and his sexual hangups into a character who would become the ultimate ideal of masculinity, for better or worse. And naturally, the patrician and patriarchal symbol and defender of the establishment proves an irresistible foil to the scruffily charming lads from Liverpool who revolutionised popular music and became working class(ish) heroes. Higgs does raise some fascinating points and parallels -- in particular, I'm not sure I'd ever considered George "The Spiritual One" Harrison to be the closest Beatle to James "The Materialistic Assassin One" Bond before reading this book, but Higgs makes a case for it that's pretty damn compelling. Higgs’ take on John Lennon, arguably the most controversial and divisive Beatle, is also clear-eyed yet compassionate.
Unfortunately, while there are some individual nuggets of gold to be found throughout, the book's overall case is ultimately somewhat less than the sum of its parts. It's hard to shake the feeling at times that Higgs has come up with an absolutely wonderful thesis based on a fascinating cultural overlap, but has realised partway through writing that there's not actually enough to it to hang his hat on. He does establish a mythological parallel with the Beatles representing Eros (love) and Bond representing Thanatos (death) throughout, but it's a little bit, well, obvious. Particularly in the second half, large parts of the book tend to read like separate discussions of the two subjects beyond occasional mentions of, say, a Beatle attending a Bond premiere or some potentially intriguing but contentiously underdeveloped parallels like Phil Spector and Allan Klein being sort of like the Beatles' version of SPECTRE (which, not saying it's not an interesting take, but still, gonna need to see your working out a bit more clearly there, John).
It also doesn't really help that Higgs is clearly more interested in and affectionate towards the Beatles and their side of the 'conflict' than Fleming/Bond's, devoting more space to them throughout the book. This in itself is not fundamentally a problem -- Ian Fleming does, in fact, sound like a racist, sexually weird and rather dysfunctionally imperialist ass, and I too would overall prefer listening to "Revolver" than watching "Thunderball". But on the flipside, I'm not the one writing a book purporting to focus on both of them as equal cultural titans warring for the soul of an entire culture and concept of masculinity. Furthermore, Higgs also has a charming but at times unfortunate and frustrating tendency to meander from point to point without really making the connections between them clear and tends to focus on certain periods and mediums more than others -- for example, fans of Roger Moore might find themselves surprised by how little he's mentioned (fans of Dalton, perhaps less so). Furthermore, a case hinging on the parallel between the Beatles and Bond’s film incarnations tends to focus less on the films and more on the books to draw supporting evidence at times. Readers may also find the book's slightly shruggy "well, the real answer's somewhere in between 'em, innit?" conclusion a bit of a let-down.
At the end of it, this is an enjoyable and engaging but ultimately somewhat disappointing read. There's a fabulous premise and some interesting ideas here, but sometimes a coincidence might, in fact, just be a coincidence.
3.5/5
April 30, 2023
Higgs persuasively casts the contrast between Bond and the Beatles (and the Beatles first major label single and Dr No being released on the same day) as modern folklore which, as all good folklore does, tells a story of the state of the country and its cares and concerns in those sixty years. It’s death against love, south v north, establishment v rebels, non-woke v woke and contrasting versions of masculinity across some of the most intense changes the country has ever undergone told via pop culture history. Perhaps Higgs misses a minor trick when he talks about the assimilation of the Beatles by the establishment and doesn’t quite fully consider how radical ideas can sometimes change that establishment for the better but otherwise it’s a thrilling and entirely persuasive read. Just a shame that publishing schedules mean it doesn’t end on the triumphant communal note of McCartney’s 2022,Glastonbury set.
May 14, 2023
Everything you ever wanted to know about James Bond & The Beatles ..but you have been to afraid to ask.
The book is very detailed ... Very very detailed and I have to admit that I loved all those interesting singiuarites between the phenomenons of James Bond and Beatles...for example Christopher Lee known as the James Bond 's villain Scaramanga on the cover of the Paul Mc Carty LP.
Actually - reader will know much more about this formidable actor and man because there is much more from his life than meets the eye.
There are also many controverses in the character of James Bond as there are in the life of all four ex Beatles.
I loved the book untill its last part. The moment when the author begon to write about Putin and present day politics....that was more or less the end for me.
But all with all it was quite interesting reading that I everybody who are interested in those two phenomens should read.
The book is very detailed ... Very very detailed and I have to admit that I loved all those interesting singiuarites between the phenomenons of James Bond and Beatles...for example Christopher Lee known as the James Bond 's villain Scaramanga on the cover of the Paul Mc Carty LP.
Actually - reader will know much more about this formidable actor and man because there is much more from his life than meets the eye.
There are also many controverses in the character of James Bond as there are in the life of all four ex Beatles.
I loved the book untill its last part. The moment when the author begon to write about Putin and present day politics....that was more or less the end for me.
But all with all it was quite interesting reading that I everybody who are interested in those two phenomens should read.
April 28, 2023
This was so fascinating, not only for the ways that James Bond and the Beatles paralleled each other in pop culture, but the ways that they influenced and reflect our ideas of British masculinity. It really made me think about how nothing exists in a bubble and even "trivial" things like music and movies have a huge impact on how we live our lives.
May 18, 2023
"Zdá se, že někde mezi Bondem a Beatles existuje identita, o kterou stojí za to usilovat."
March 26, 2023
In October 1963, the first ever episode of Doctor Who was pulled because of the assassination of the US president John F Kennedy. Some believe this was just a coincidence; others insist the president was killed by the Illuminati to prevent the BBC leaking the secrets about how the universe worked, although they subsequently relented and decided instead to allow the programme to air as long as the information was provided in a sufficiently oblique manner to prevent its understanding by any but the initiated. The BBC complied and used tactics such as putting Louise Jameson in a skimpy chamois-leather outfit to provide a distraction for those who might otherwise penetrate the mysteries.
This is not what Love and Let Die is about, but it might as well be because, despite the title and the blurb it isn’t really about Bond or the Beatles either. Instead, the book is a left-wing screed that wraps its opinions up in the stories of both – probably because to do otherwise would be to consign the book to obscurity.
In as far as the book is about its claimed subject, the basic premise springs from the coincidence that the Beatles’ single Love Me Do and the Bond film Dr No were both released on the same date. Although the Beatles had released a prior single, My Bonnie, with Tony Sheridan, it is reasonable to date the beginning of them as a national (and subsequently international) phenomenon to their first self-penned single for Parlophone. Bond, however, had been in books for years and had even been a radio serial prior to its film debut, so it makes less sense to date Bond’s success to the same date. In fact, arguably, if the books had not already been a success, the films would never have been released. Other coincidences litter the book, ranging from the intentional (Bond and the Beatles both being part of the Olympic opening ceremony) to the plain stupid (Bond having a villain called Spectre and the Beatles working with Phil Spector).
This is not my major problem with the book: the real problem is the way in which Higgs chooses to co-opt these icons to represent two warring visions of post-war British Society. Bond stands for the imperial elites – racist, individualistic, selfish and reactionary – whilst the Beatles are the working classes – open, generous of spirit and collectivist. Higgs proceeds through a series of short vignettes of the respective histories of the two phenomena to make points about everything from the NHS to the break-up of the Empire, all the time portraying Bond and his creator Fleming as the villain, whilst the Beatles are on the “side of history.”
It is, needless to say, something of a stretch. To be repeatedly told that Ringo wouldn’t have survived childhood without the existence of the NHS is one thing, but to extrapolate from a couple of chance remarks in Bond books disparaging tea and an apparent internet fad for photos of the Beatles drinking it (who knew?) in order to posit that there are two entirely separate conceptions of what England actually is, frankly comes across as the ravings of someone who has too many “cups of tea” in the Rutles sense. In fact, I was rather surprised he hadn’t discredited tea as some kind of colonialist throwback – but then, of course, that wouldn’t work with the Bond/Beatles data point he had chosen.
I use the term data point advisedly, because one thing this book is not is a history of either Bond or the Beatles. If you don’t know the basic story of either, this will not help you. Instead, reading the book and ignoring the politics is rather like skimming Wikipedia – random snapshots of information, sometimes seemingly completely unrelated to the subjects themselves (one chapter is more about Desmond Dekker than Bond) with occasional glaring errors as Higgs attempts to wrestle the narratives to suit the point he has chosen to make. So, for example, when talking about how the end of touring affected the Beatles (or, more accurately, just John and Paul – George and Ringo don’t help his argument at this point), he chooses to portray Lennon as becoming lethargic and insular. This may well be true, but the way he chooses to illustrate this is by referring to the song I’m Only Sleeping from Revolver. Revolver may have been released after the Beatles ceased touring in August 1966, but I’m Only Sleeping was recorded in April and May of that year, when the Beatles’ final US tour was still in prospect and it wasn’t even clear the Beatles had yet decided to make that tour their final one.
Even where it doesn’t serve his narrative, Higgs makes sloppy mistakes such as referring to an exploding basketball in Help (there isn’t one) or quoting the backing vocals of Happiness is a Warm Gun as “shoot shoot bang bang” rather than “bang bang shoot shoot”. The overall impression is of someone who doesn’t really care about the Beatles per se, which is probably why the portion of the book that focuses on the period when they were actually together is so brief.
Higgs also makes the category error of assuming that Lennon’s lyrics are a sincere reflection of his worldview. In one chapter, revolving around the Our World broadcast in which the Beatles performed All You Need is Love, he claims that Lennon’s lyrics show him to have transcended the petty, individualistic world. This is starkly at odds with the break-up of the Beatles that was soon to follow – presumably the lyrics of How Do You Sleep mean that Lennon was schizophrenic. Songwriters do sometimes draw on their own feelings or experiences for lyrics, but equally they write what they think sounds good or will appeal to their audiences. Lennon was not being hypocritical when he wrote the line “Imagine no possessions” despite owning a stately home and a Rolls-Royce hand-painted by Dutch art collective The Fool, he was merely singing something that worked in the song and which sounded good. In fact, Higgs later credits those lyrics to quotations from Yoko Ono – who subsequently changed the writing credit of the song to include herself – which rather undermines the idea that these were Lennon’s views. Even if he did come up with them himself, however, you can no more claim he sincerely believed them any more than you can assume he thought he was a walrus.
Where Higgs spends more time and provides more detail tends to be on the darker moments of – primarily Lennon’s - life. From his acrimonious break with the Maharishi to his abortive scream therapy sessions after the Beatles’ split, Higgs seems to relish the tortured soul of his subject. So much so, that he barely talks about Fleming or Bond for several chapters as he deals with the breakdown of John’s relationships and how this harks back to his mother issues. It doesn’t make for particularly comfortable reading and it doesn’t really help with the thesis that the Beatles stood for everything good – unless you assume that this only applied whilst the band themselves were at their most together (not the case when John wrote All You Need is Love). Higgs seems oddly ready to defend both Lennon and Ono, despite the terrible things he claims they did. Some of the claims he even dismisses as hearsay from disgruntled staff, which stands in stark contrast to a chapter in which he spends nearly the whole time on a character assassination of George Harrison, accepting rumours provided by alleged friends and disgruntled staff as definitive and only letting up briefly because it gives him an opportunity to have a go at Eric Clapton and Roger Waters for good measure.
Ultimately, the book comes across as scattergun, petulant and heavily skewed. I don’t personally know a great deal about Fleming, but he feels reduced to a caricature in much the same way the cancel mob treat people like Roald Dahl or Winston Churchill. Lennon is treated better, but not by much. In fact, it’s hard to see why Higgs felt the need to write the book at all since he clearly doesn’t particularly respect his subjects. It’s possible that he’s vain enough to believe that the audience for his book will put aside everything they’ve already learned about the Beatles and accept his version as a kind of New Testament (it’s highly unlikely, after all, that anyone will read this as their first book on the subject) or, more simply, it might be that he thought that sticking the names of the most successful musicians and film character of our recent past would be a licence to print money. In this he doesn’t – as the blurb claims – give any insight into the British psyche. He does, however, give an insight into his own. And it suggests he’s in no position to criticise George Harrison for materialism.
This is not what Love and Let Die is about, but it might as well be because, despite the title and the blurb it isn’t really about Bond or the Beatles either. Instead, the book is a left-wing screed that wraps its opinions up in the stories of both – probably because to do otherwise would be to consign the book to obscurity.
In as far as the book is about its claimed subject, the basic premise springs from the coincidence that the Beatles’ single Love Me Do and the Bond film Dr No were both released on the same date. Although the Beatles had released a prior single, My Bonnie, with Tony Sheridan, it is reasonable to date the beginning of them as a national (and subsequently international) phenomenon to their first self-penned single for Parlophone. Bond, however, had been in books for years and had even been a radio serial prior to its film debut, so it makes less sense to date Bond’s success to the same date. In fact, arguably, if the books had not already been a success, the films would never have been released. Other coincidences litter the book, ranging from the intentional (Bond and the Beatles both being part of the Olympic opening ceremony) to the plain stupid (Bond having a villain called Spectre and the Beatles working with Phil Spector).
This is not my major problem with the book: the real problem is the way in which Higgs chooses to co-opt these icons to represent two warring visions of post-war British Society. Bond stands for the imperial elites – racist, individualistic, selfish and reactionary – whilst the Beatles are the working classes – open, generous of spirit and collectivist. Higgs proceeds through a series of short vignettes of the respective histories of the two phenomena to make points about everything from the NHS to the break-up of the Empire, all the time portraying Bond and his creator Fleming as the villain, whilst the Beatles are on the “side of history.”
It is, needless to say, something of a stretch. To be repeatedly told that Ringo wouldn’t have survived childhood without the existence of the NHS is one thing, but to extrapolate from a couple of chance remarks in Bond books disparaging tea and an apparent internet fad for photos of the Beatles drinking it (who knew?) in order to posit that there are two entirely separate conceptions of what England actually is, frankly comes across as the ravings of someone who has too many “cups of tea” in the Rutles sense. In fact, I was rather surprised he hadn’t discredited tea as some kind of colonialist throwback – but then, of course, that wouldn’t work with the Bond/Beatles data point he had chosen.
I use the term data point advisedly, because one thing this book is not is a history of either Bond or the Beatles. If you don’t know the basic story of either, this will not help you. Instead, reading the book and ignoring the politics is rather like skimming Wikipedia – random snapshots of information, sometimes seemingly completely unrelated to the subjects themselves (one chapter is more about Desmond Dekker than Bond) with occasional glaring errors as Higgs attempts to wrestle the narratives to suit the point he has chosen to make. So, for example, when talking about how the end of touring affected the Beatles (or, more accurately, just John and Paul – George and Ringo don’t help his argument at this point), he chooses to portray Lennon as becoming lethargic and insular. This may well be true, but the way he chooses to illustrate this is by referring to the song I’m Only Sleeping from Revolver. Revolver may have been released after the Beatles ceased touring in August 1966, but I’m Only Sleeping was recorded in April and May of that year, when the Beatles’ final US tour was still in prospect and it wasn’t even clear the Beatles had yet decided to make that tour their final one.
Even where it doesn’t serve his narrative, Higgs makes sloppy mistakes such as referring to an exploding basketball in Help (there isn’t one) or quoting the backing vocals of Happiness is a Warm Gun as “shoot shoot bang bang” rather than “bang bang shoot shoot”. The overall impression is of someone who doesn’t really care about the Beatles per se, which is probably why the portion of the book that focuses on the period when they were actually together is so brief.
Higgs also makes the category error of assuming that Lennon’s lyrics are a sincere reflection of his worldview. In one chapter, revolving around the Our World broadcast in which the Beatles performed All You Need is Love, he claims that Lennon’s lyrics show him to have transcended the petty, individualistic world. This is starkly at odds with the break-up of the Beatles that was soon to follow – presumably the lyrics of How Do You Sleep mean that Lennon was schizophrenic. Songwriters do sometimes draw on their own feelings or experiences for lyrics, but equally they write what they think sounds good or will appeal to their audiences. Lennon was not being hypocritical when he wrote the line “Imagine no possessions” despite owning a stately home and a Rolls-Royce hand-painted by Dutch art collective The Fool, he was merely singing something that worked in the song and which sounded good. In fact, Higgs later credits those lyrics to quotations from Yoko Ono – who subsequently changed the writing credit of the song to include herself – which rather undermines the idea that these were Lennon’s views. Even if he did come up with them himself, however, you can no more claim he sincerely believed them any more than you can assume he thought he was a walrus.
Where Higgs spends more time and provides more detail tends to be on the darker moments of – primarily Lennon’s - life. From his acrimonious break with the Maharishi to his abortive scream therapy sessions after the Beatles’ split, Higgs seems to relish the tortured soul of his subject. So much so, that he barely talks about Fleming or Bond for several chapters as he deals with the breakdown of John’s relationships and how this harks back to his mother issues. It doesn’t make for particularly comfortable reading and it doesn’t really help with the thesis that the Beatles stood for everything good – unless you assume that this only applied whilst the band themselves were at their most together (not the case when John wrote All You Need is Love). Higgs seems oddly ready to defend both Lennon and Ono, despite the terrible things he claims they did. Some of the claims he even dismisses as hearsay from disgruntled staff, which stands in stark contrast to a chapter in which he spends nearly the whole time on a character assassination of George Harrison, accepting rumours provided by alleged friends and disgruntled staff as definitive and only letting up briefly because it gives him an opportunity to have a go at Eric Clapton and Roger Waters for good measure.
Ultimately, the book comes across as scattergun, petulant and heavily skewed. I don’t personally know a great deal about Fleming, but he feels reduced to a caricature in much the same way the cancel mob treat people like Roald Dahl or Winston Churchill. Lennon is treated better, but not by much. In fact, it’s hard to see why Higgs felt the need to write the book at all since he clearly doesn’t particularly respect his subjects. It’s possible that he’s vain enough to believe that the audience for his book will put aside everything they’ve already learned about the Beatles and accept his version as a kind of New Testament (it’s highly unlikely, after all, that anyone will read this as their first book on the subject) or, more simply, it might be that he thought that sticking the names of the most successful musicians and film character of our recent past would be a licence to print money. In this he doesn’t – as the blurb claims – give any insight into the British psyche. He does, however, give an insight into his own. And it suggests he’s in no position to criticise George Harrison for materialism.
December 12, 2022
This is my sixth John Higgs book in the last couple of years, they're always fantastically well researched and full of great insights and factoids. This one was no different. I loved the whole thing especially the chapter on Christopher Lee who I now want to read way more about, the section on the rise of Putin, and his conclusion regarding the future of Bond and how it could interlink with the traits of the four Beatles. Great, great book. Will have to give it a listen again which won't be a chore as he's a wonderful narrator!
March 25, 2023
My favourite Spy movie - and I’m on a mission to see them all - is Notorious, from 1946, and directed by that Spy Movie Master, Alfred Hitchcock. In it, someone says “We are protected…by the enormity of your stupidity.”. Meaning, your buds won’t even conceive of how badly you have screwed up and so won’t kill you.
The quote, altered, applies to me and my enjoyment of this book perhaps as compared to others who might feel like they were covering old ground: I was assisted by the enormity of my own stupidity. Well, stupidity is practically a canceled word - as some people want Bond canceled - but I was just applying it to myself. Let’s just say I started listening to The Beatles when I was a kid, because the records were in the house - we’re talking the 1970s, here…wee tot Two Envelopes and a Rotary Phone. And even then, my Beatles world was the Blue Greatest Hits album. As a kid, I had access to and listened to The Blue Greatest Hits album. At some point, the Red Greatest Hits album, of earlier Fab Four hits, was introduced into the house, and I listened to that too, but not as much as that incredible Blue Greatest Hits album. There’s nothing like I Am The Walrus, and Strawberry Fields Forever, when you are 9 years old. Anyway, these may have been the only two Beatles records in the house…or that’s all I needed. I think, actually, both are true.
But I just listened to the music. I never researched The Beatles, or watched shows about them, or read about them. I do remember in grade school, there was a guitar-playing music teacher, and I know at some point school involved studying the lyrics of Yesterday, and A Day in the Life. So The Beatles were something music teachers loved to talk about in school. They were important in the outside world, adults wanted me to understand what some of the songs were about. Then, around Grade 8, I remember poring over the evidence that Paul McCartney was dead and had been replaced with an exact double. I even questioned the “exact” part; I convinced myself that the new McCartney looked slightly different. These days all of this seems silly. But, it turns out that the “Paul is dead” stuff started way before my schoolmates and I suddenly got obsessed with it. So I wonder how we got into it for a few weeks in 1979? I don’t know.
I’m better on Bond lore, but not by all that much. I know the most about a few of my favourites in the series; I just re-read The Making of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and I love Tom Mankiewicz’s Commentary on my disc of Live and Let Die. I’m sort of a Jack of All Trades but Master of None, when it comes to random Bond trivia encompassing all the films.
But now, I feel like I just had downloaded into my head just about everything worth knowing about two of the world’s most popular and influential pop culture phenomena of our times. I mean, I didn’t even know what Paul McCartney’s personality is like, or why The White Album is what it is. So, I imagine if someone is actually bored by this book, it’s because it does cover stuff fans of either Bond or The Beatles have already learned long before I ever did.
But there’s so much going on here! And it’s not just about flagging all the times Beatles and Bond intersect. Yes, Christopher Lee was in The Man With the Golden Gun and, from around the same time, on the cover of the Wings’ album cover for Band on the Run. Yes, there’s a Beatles-named character in Quantum of Solace. And yes, anything like that gets covered in this book. But the other part of the subtitle of this book is the phrase “British Psyche”. And it is the sweeping, decades-long inspection of Beatles as Love, plus (or versus??) James Bond as Death, that fascinated me.
In fact, I would say that the book only falters, and not often, when somehow we seem to have moved off topic - like how we start out on safe, on-topic ground discussing how the film Spectre risked a subtler “villain’s scheme” than usual - manipulation and control of society by controlling data flow, social media, and surveillance. Then, suddenly, we don’t seem to be reading about James Bond, The Beatles, or even the British psyche; instead, we get a lot of info and analysis on Putin, election meddling, and the invasion of Ukraine. This happened earlier, with a jump to Trump discussion - again, launched from some Beatles/Bond factoid…but, perhaps, a corkscrewing bridge too far?
But mostly the book blasts right past any opening doubts one might have, like “is this going to be a gimmicky list of tenuous or dreamed-up connections that say nothing important?”, and mostly the book stays on target: Beatles, Bond, British psyche. The details, and The Big Picture created by all Bonds and Beatles over many many years. And what the “British psyche” accepted, or rejected, as each transformation occurred, in the Love zone, or the Death zone. With occasional check-ins with the rest of the world - after all, these are global phenomena.
If the author makes a few pronouncements that are just, like, his opinion, man - well, peace, that’s where it’s at. It’s cool. I do confess I am rattled by the uglier sides of all the biographies deftly and quickly handled here, but again, I’m new to what John Lennon was like, or even why Ian Fleming’s bio and various comments are enough for many people to say “good riddance, Bond, don’t come back!” (and I’m less convinced that Bond actually will be back on film than Higgs seems to be; it is perhaps the hardest era ever for James Bond to come around again and still be what we know as James Bond…time will tell).
Oh, and by the way, can everyone - even diehard Bond fans - just chill when it comes to the Swanee-whistle sound effect we hear during the corkscrew bridge jump, in The Man with the Golden Gun? It doesn’t need to be removed, or changed. The stunt is still legit with or without the sound. The scene is humorous leading up to the jump, Sheriff Pepper and Bond are wise-cracking in the car in the lead-up to the jump, this is not some serious, dramatic moment in a Bond film that is ruined by a “silly” sound-effect. The jump itself is implausible and sort of absurd to look at anyway. If the British psyche or any psyche whatsoever is all bummed out over a humourous noise added to a humorous car jump…I mean, Peace. What’s with the negative waves…All you need is love.
The quote, altered, applies to me and my enjoyment of this book perhaps as compared to others who might feel like they were covering old ground: I was assisted by the enormity of my own stupidity. Well, stupidity is practically a canceled word - as some people want Bond canceled - but I was just applying it to myself. Let’s just say I started listening to The Beatles when I was a kid, because the records were in the house - we’re talking the 1970s, here…wee tot Two Envelopes and a Rotary Phone. And even then, my Beatles world was the Blue Greatest Hits album. As a kid, I had access to and listened to The Blue Greatest Hits album. At some point, the Red Greatest Hits album, of earlier Fab Four hits, was introduced into the house, and I listened to that too, but not as much as that incredible Blue Greatest Hits album. There’s nothing like I Am The Walrus, and Strawberry Fields Forever, when you are 9 years old. Anyway, these may have been the only two Beatles records in the house…or that’s all I needed. I think, actually, both are true.
But I just listened to the music. I never researched The Beatles, or watched shows about them, or read about them. I do remember in grade school, there was a guitar-playing music teacher, and I know at some point school involved studying the lyrics of Yesterday, and A Day in the Life. So The Beatles were something music teachers loved to talk about in school. They were important in the outside world, adults wanted me to understand what some of the songs were about. Then, around Grade 8, I remember poring over the evidence that Paul McCartney was dead and had been replaced with an exact double. I even questioned the “exact” part; I convinced myself that the new McCartney looked slightly different. These days all of this seems silly. But, it turns out that the “Paul is dead” stuff started way before my schoolmates and I suddenly got obsessed with it. So I wonder how we got into it for a few weeks in 1979? I don’t know.
I’m better on Bond lore, but not by all that much. I know the most about a few of my favourites in the series; I just re-read The Making of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and I love Tom Mankiewicz’s Commentary on my disc of Live and Let Die. I’m sort of a Jack of All Trades but Master of None, when it comes to random Bond trivia encompassing all the films.
But now, I feel like I just had downloaded into my head just about everything worth knowing about two of the world’s most popular and influential pop culture phenomena of our times. I mean, I didn’t even know what Paul McCartney’s personality is like, or why The White Album is what it is. So, I imagine if someone is actually bored by this book, it’s because it does cover stuff fans of either Bond or The Beatles have already learned long before I ever did.
But there’s so much going on here! And it’s not just about flagging all the times Beatles and Bond intersect. Yes, Christopher Lee was in The Man With the Golden Gun and, from around the same time, on the cover of the Wings’ album cover for Band on the Run. Yes, there’s a Beatles-named character in Quantum of Solace. And yes, anything like that gets covered in this book. But the other part of the subtitle of this book is the phrase “British Psyche”. And it is the sweeping, decades-long inspection of Beatles as Love, plus (or versus??) James Bond as Death, that fascinated me.
In fact, I would say that the book only falters, and not often, when somehow we seem to have moved off topic - like how we start out on safe, on-topic ground discussing how the film Spectre risked a subtler “villain’s scheme” than usual - manipulation and control of society by controlling data flow, social media, and surveillance. Then, suddenly, we don’t seem to be reading about James Bond, The Beatles, or even the British psyche; instead, we get a lot of info and analysis on Putin, election meddling, and the invasion of Ukraine. This happened earlier, with a jump to Trump discussion - again, launched from some Beatles/Bond factoid…but, perhaps, a corkscrewing bridge too far?
But mostly the book blasts right past any opening doubts one might have, like “is this going to be a gimmicky list of tenuous or dreamed-up connections that say nothing important?”, and mostly the book stays on target: Beatles, Bond, British psyche. The details, and The Big Picture created by all Bonds and Beatles over many many years. And what the “British psyche” accepted, or rejected, as each transformation occurred, in the Love zone, or the Death zone. With occasional check-ins with the rest of the world - after all, these are global phenomena.
If the author makes a few pronouncements that are just, like, his opinion, man - well, peace, that’s where it’s at. It’s cool. I do confess I am rattled by the uglier sides of all the biographies deftly and quickly handled here, but again, I’m new to what John Lennon was like, or even why Ian Fleming’s bio and various comments are enough for many people to say “good riddance, Bond, don’t come back!” (and I’m less convinced that Bond actually will be back on film than Higgs seems to be; it is perhaps the hardest era ever for James Bond to come around again and still be what we know as James Bond…time will tell).
Oh, and by the way, can everyone - even diehard Bond fans - just chill when it comes to the Swanee-whistle sound effect we hear during the corkscrew bridge jump, in The Man with the Golden Gun? It doesn’t need to be removed, or changed. The stunt is still legit with or without the sound. The scene is humorous leading up to the jump, Sheriff Pepper and Bond are wise-cracking in the car in the lead-up to the jump, this is not some serious, dramatic moment in a Bond film that is ruined by a “silly” sound-effect. The jump itself is implausible and sort of absurd to look at anyway. If the British psyche or any psyche whatsoever is all bummed out over a humourous noise added to a humorous car jump…I mean, Peace. What’s with the negative waves…All you need is love.
April 4, 2023
[Originally published on my Substack, February 2023]
Is it wrong to think that James Bond and The Beatles were mutually joined together by the sheer fact that A: it’s a British thing and B: it was the ‘60s?
According to author John Higgs, this comparison is, believe it or not, measured with a simplistic benchmark. On the surface we’re looking at two opposing forces, referenced many times in these pages: Beatles = love, Bond = death. There is no middle ground. Cuddly and branded hyper-real, the Beatles were bathed in adoration by young teenage girls. Bond was the uber-male, pithy, misogynistic spy who was licensed to kill, courtesy of writer Ian Fleming.
“That's as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.” - James Bond, Goldfinger
What then of Fleming that caused such blasphemy, with a dose of upper-class snobbery? The distinction lay in his family genetics. Born in 1908 to wealth in a society that measured worth by class, Fleming’s familial circle included a father that served in Parliament and a mother whose beauty and standing could only be defined as flamboyant. After Fleming’s father was killed during WWI, his mother (who would have been cut off from his trust), ended up as the mistress of painter Augustus John.
Fleming’s schooling was fraught with bullying and loneliness. Unable to meet the expectations of his older brother Peter - a world traveler, writer, and decorated military officer - Fleming nonetheless tried his hand at banking (the family business), eventually called into the military and then journalism, covering Stalin’s Soviet Union.
By the time Fleming was deep into his military career, the four lads from Liverpool were in the middle of being born. As Higgs chronicles the sharp differences in the realm of being from the ‘North,’ the war had deeply scarred not only the English countryside but in effect, kickstarted the end of the Empire - a shift that conservative Fleming would find disdainful but an era that the Beatles, encapsulating Liverpool’s scrappy resilience could take advantage of to worldwide success.
As a writer, Fleming found inspiration and respite at his home Goldeneye in Jamaica. The seeds for Bond were coming into flower and while the style was as cool as the Caribbean waters, the approach in movie-making a few years later (with Sean Connery as 007) had a sense of hip, modern sheen - somewhere in space the Beatles would be heading to with open arms.
Higgs has the advantage of seeing Fleming’s tone evolve from the written page to the screen. As Connery was able to interject dark humor into an otherwise serious-as-a-heart-attack character, the Beatles were looking to break the bonds of an accepted British institution. This becomes an overarching theme in the book: the treatment of women, both onscreen and in real life.
"If a woman is a bitch, or hysterical, or bloody-minded continually, then I'd do it." - Sean Connery on justifying a slap, 1965
Connery was taken to task for his public remarks in this Playboy interview throughout the years on how to treat women and as a parallel, Fleming’s conservative worldview on this issue was a carbon copy. In the same breath, history has also acknowledged John Lennon’s complicated childhood would manifest itself in bullying, violence and sarcasm. As Higgs notes, these mid-20th century viewpoints towards women make films like Goldfinger and Thunderball “difficult to watch.”
The Beatles were moving thru these times at lightning speed, visually and musically. The most significant impact the Bond style had on the group was 1965’s ‘Help!’ It has not been lost on anybody, that this was a direct visual homage (albeit couched with tax reasons) to the global payoffs of Bond locales. Within the margins of the thinnest storyline, the Beatles were able to roam across land and sea, inserting themselves into a hair-brained plot concerning a cult that wants to kill RIngo.
True to form, this cinematic clash of ideals doesn’t play well to this day. In direct opposition to their perceived lovable characters, there was no emotional connection. It was a losing proposition for the four. The Beatles were too lightweight and flippant to survive in Bond’s vicious, and rampantly violent world.
A broad theme for Higgs here is the sense of self. While the Beatles as a whole gave the world a unified consciousness of being, Bond was moving as a singular entity. The “four-headed monster” to quote Mick Jagger, was able to give and get the message to the masses with their universal themes of brotherhood and empathy, especially to women.
Bond, however, was actually a serpentine of emotions. As told by Higgs, the real story underlining every other story is Fleming. His utterly fascinating life reads like pulp fiction: from wealth and a taste for marital sadomasochism and his contempt for the liberal atmosphere that was on the horizon for Britain, to essentially the life that would transpire up to his death; tho he did compose ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ for his son Caspar, notwithstanding. That the Beatles slotted in with a rapidly changing environment perfectly - most of it due to their idealism - doesn’t seem too outlandish, but perhaps more than a bit spiritual.
Higgs touches down on the unthinkable ending in ‘No Time To Die,’ and one chapter that zeroes in with the subject of death and John Lennon is titled ‘The No Mark.’ This is Liverpudlian slang for someone who is a nobody. As the term fits the ‘jerk of all jerks,’ this chapter is harrowing in its prescient capture of that moment in time, circa December 1980.
Higgs fills the pages with reliable wit, and sympathetic and historical storytelling ranging from the Beatles methodology in the studio and it’s impact on the public to how realistic world events would be constructed past Fleming’s death to how the ‘spectre’ of Bond actors has evolved the past 60 years, (who the heck was George Lazenby and was does everybody hate him?) and with no sense of irony how Strawberry Fields (in ‘Quantum of Solace’) fits in as a figure in British psyche.
“If the Beatles are an expression of ‘yes,’ and Bond is a statement of ‘no,’ they are the ability to choose which is the right response at any given moment.”
Is it wrong to think that James Bond and The Beatles were mutually joined together by the sheer fact that A: it’s a British thing and B: it was the ‘60s?
According to author John Higgs, this comparison is, believe it or not, measured with a simplistic benchmark. On the surface we’re looking at two opposing forces, referenced many times in these pages: Beatles = love, Bond = death. There is no middle ground. Cuddly and branded hyper-real, the Beatles were bathed in adoration by young teenage girls. Bond was the uber-male, pithy, misogynistic spy who was licensed to kill, courtesy of writer Ian Fleming.
“That's as bad as listening to the Beatles without earmuffs.” - James Bond, Goldfinger
What then of Fleming that caused such blasphemy, with a dose of upper-class snobbery? The distinction lay in his family genetics. Born in 1908 to wealth in a society that measured worth by class, Fleming’s familial circle included a father that served in Parliament and a mother whose beauty and standing could only be defined as flamboyant. After Fleming’s father was killed during WWI, his mother (who would have been cut off from his trust), ended up as the mistress of painter Augustus John.
Fleming’s schooling was fraught with bullying and loneliness. Unable to meet the expectations of his older brother Peter - a world traveler, writer, and decorated military officer - Fleming nonetheless tried his hand at banking (the family business), eventually called into the military and then journalism, covering Stalin’s Soviet Union.
By the time Fleming was deep into his military career, the four lads from Liverpool were in the middle of being born. As Higgs chronicles the sharp differences in the realm of being from the ‘North,’ the war had deeply scarred not only the English countryside but in effect, kickstarted the end of the Empire - a shift that conservative Fleming would find disdainful but an era that the Beatles, encapsulating Liverpool’s scrappy resilience could take advantage of to worldwide success.
As a writer, Fleming found inspiration and respite at his home Goldeneye in Jamaica. The seeds for Bond were coming into flower and while the style was as cool as the Caribbean waters, the approach in movie-making a few years later (with Sean Connery as 007) had a sense of hip, modern sheen - somewhere in space the Beatles would be heading to with open arms.
Higgs has the advantage of seeing Fleming’s tone evolve from the written page to the screen. As Connery was able to interject dark humor into an otherwise serious-as-a-heart-attack character, the Beatles were looking to break the bonds of an accepted British institution. This becomes an overarching theme in the book: the treatment of women, both onscreen and in real life.
"If a woman is a bitch, or hysterical, or bloody-minded continually, then I'd do it." - Sean Connery on justifying a slap, 1965
Connery was taken to task for his public remarks in this Playboy interview throughout the years on how to treat women and as a parallel, Fleming’s conservative worldview on this issue was a carbon copy. In the same breath, history has also acknowledged John Lennon’s complicated childhood would manifest itself in bullying, violence and sarcasm. As Higgs notes, these mid-20th century viewpoints towards women make films like Goldfinger and Thunderball “difficult to watch.”
The Beatles were moving thru these times at lightning speed, visually and musically. The most significant impact the Bond style had on the group was 1965’s ‘Help!’ It has not been lost on anybody, that this was a direct visual homage (albeit couched with tax reasons) to the global payoffs of Bond locales. Within the margins of the thinnest storyline, the Beatles were able to roam across land and sea, inserting themselves into a hair-brained plot concerning a cult that wants to kill RIngo.
True to form, this cinematic clash of ideals doesn’t play well to this day. In direct opposition to their perceived lovable characters, there was no emotional connection. It was a losing proposition for the four. The Beatles were too lightweight and flippant to survive in Bond’s vicious, and rampantly violent world.
A broad theme for Higgs here is the sense of self. While the Beatles as a whole gave the world a unified consciousness of being, Bond was moving as a singular entity. The “four-headed monster” to quote Mick Jagger, was able to give and get the message to the masses with their universal themes of brotherhood and empathy, especially to women.
Bond, however, was actually a serpentine of emotions. As told by Higgs, the real story underlining every other story is Fleming. His utterly fascinating life reads like pulp fiction: from wealth and a taste for marital sadomasochism and his contempt for the liberal atmosphere that was on the horizon for Britain, to essentially the life that would transpire up to his death; tho he did compose ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ for his son Caspar, notwithstanding. That the Beatles slotted in with a rapidly changing environment perfectly - most of it due to their idealism - doesn’t seem too outlandish, but perhaps more than a bit spiritual.
Higgs touches down on the unthinkable ending in ‘No Time To Die,’ and one chapter that zeroes in with the subject of death and John Lennon is titled ‘The No Mark.’ This is Liverpudlian slang for someone who is a nobody. As the term fits the ‘jerk of all jerks,’ this chapter is harrowing in its prescient capture of that moment in time, circa December 1980.
Higgs fills the pages with reliable wit, and sympathetic and historical storytelling ranging from the Beatles methodology in the studio and it’s impact on the public to how realistic world events would be constructed past Fleming’s death to how the ‘spectre’ of Bond actors has evolved the past 60 years, (who the heck was George Lazenby and was does everybody hate him?) and with no sense of irony how Strawberry Fields (in ‘Quantum of Solace’) fits in as a figure in British psyche.
“If the Beatles are an expression of ‘yes,’ and Bond is a statement of ‘no,’ they are the ability to choose which is the right response at any given moment.”
October 9, 2022
John Higgs ha a real knack for finding connections that seem unlikely verging on incredible, but turn out to be hiding in plain sight, and absolutely true. That the first James Bond film and the first Beatles single were released on the same Friday in October 1962 is just the open sesame to a cave of deeper links, through the media of individuals, cultural and psychodynamic semantics.
Cutting backwards and forwards between his two subjects as they co-evolve over the sixty years up to the present, Higgs strings together a necklace of set-piece scenes that illuminate the British, and male, psyche. There is much that he finds in this history that readers will be able to apply to the ructions of life in the UK in the present, whatever their perspective on those tensions. And he doesn't let up. I reached a point where I felt sated — and where many other authors might have felt 'job done' — but realised that I was only about half way through the ~470 pages. It really is a tour de force, and the excitement only flags very slightly in the second half, as it inevitably must since mature phenomena never have the same energy as when they are forming and bursting into the world.
Of course the chapters and aperçus vary in quality. Higgs is naturally at his best when discussing the satellite broadcast of The Beatles All You Need is Love because this is ground that he has already made his own in his earlier books about William Blake and Timothy Leary, about the power and transcendence of the creative moment,
The chapter on Christopher Lee is particularly good, and typical of my experience reading Higgs: a bit like the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox (look it up if you don't know it; it's a bit like Jung's synchronicity) where an action in one system has an effect at a distance in another system that ought, by any criterion, to be distinct. Thus, in 1973, Christopher Lee appears on the cover of Paul McCartney/Wings' Band on the Run and begins filming as a Bond baddie in The Man with the Golden Gun. Lee turns out to be the embodiment of the masculinity that Ian Fleming espoused without ever emulating, while lacking Fleming's pomposity and meanness of spirit.
And here is Higgs on the ski-jump/parachute pre-credit sequence in The Spy Who Loved Me:
A necklace of set-pieces does not have an obvious end. Higgs tries to round things out with a chapter about how James Bond, or British men, might be wiser at the end of this sixty-year tour - perhaps by synthesising a bit of Paul, John, George and Ringo. It doesn't really convince. What stays with me at the end of the book is the dynamic between Beatles = Love/Eros and Bond = Death/Thanatos.
I'm curious to know how aficionados of either The Beatles or Bond might read this. Though I read all of Fleming's Bond books before I was ten (I remember nothing of them; Lord knows what unconscious damage they may have done me), I have paid only passing attention to either of the subjects of this book in the 40+ years since I became a teenager. I hope the enduring popularity of its subjects will get more readers for Higgs, to support him writing more about less celebrated figures from William Blake to Alan Moore.
Cutting backwards and forwards between his two subjects as they co-evolve over the sixty years up to the present, Higgs strings together a necklace of set-piece scenes that illuminate the British, and male, psyche. There is much that he finds in this history that readers will be able to apply to the ructions of life in the UK in the present, whatever their perspective on those tensions. And he doesn't let up. I reached a point where I felt sated — and where many other authors might have felt 'job done' — but realised that I was only about half way through the ~470 pages. It really is a tour de force, and the excitement only flags very slightly in the second half, as it inevitably must since mature phenomena never have the same energy as when they are forming and bursting into the world.
Of course the chapters and aperçus vary in quality. Higgs is naturally at his best when discussing the satellite broadcast of The Beatles All You Need is Love because this is ground that he has already made his own in his earlier books about William Blake and Timothy Leary, about the power and transcendence of the creative moment,
when all your cares and worries fall away, and the world is revealed to be exactly right and correct. Everything is what it is supposed to be, and there is nothing that you need to do, except witness it. It is the realisation that — as Lennon wrote in his lyrics — there is nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. In this state there is no guilt or shame or anxiety — all that has been transcended.
The chapter on Christopher Lee is particularly good, and typical of my experience reading Higgs: a bit like the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox (look it up if you don't know it; it's a bit like Jung's synchronicity) where an action in one system has an effect at a distance in another system that ought, by any criterion, to be distinct. Thus, in 1973, Christopher Lee appears on the cover of Paul McCartney/Wings' Band on the Run and begins filming as a Bond baddie in The Man with the Golden Gun. Lee turns out to be the embodiment of the masculinity that Ian Fleming espoused without ever emulating, while lacking Fleming's pomposity and meanness of spirit.
And here is Higgs on the ski-jump/parachute pre-credit sequence in The Spy Who Loved Me:
The shot captured an aspect of British identity that the British are especially proud of: unexpected triumph in the face of absolute disaster brought about by a particular mix of incredible bravery and utter stupidity. It is this love of the David-and-Goliath-like plucky escape which makes the British so fond of events such as the Dunkirk story, the Spanish Armada, the Battle of Britain or escapes from Colditz Castle. In contrast, the British do not tell stories of the victories at the Battle of El Alamein or the Battle of the Nive, for example, because they have little cultural interest in stories where the British win a regular battle between two reasonably well-matched armies.
A necklace of set-pieces does not have an obvious end. Higgs tries to round things out with a chapter about how James Bond, or British men, might be wiser at the end of this sixty-year tour - perhaps by synthesising a bit of Paul, John, George and Ringo. It doesn't really convince. What stays with me at the end of the book is the dynamic between Beatles = Love/Eros and Bond = Death/Thanatos.
I'm curious to know how aficionados of either The Beatles or Bond might read this. Though I read all of Fleming's Bond books before I was ten (I remember nothing of them; Lord knows what unconscious damage they may have done me), I have paid only passing attention to either of the subjects of this book in the 40+ years since I became a teenager. I hope the enduring popularity of its subjects will get more readers for Higgs, to support him writing more about less celebrated figures from William Blake to Alan Moore.
Read
April 16, 2024Perfect, one cold windy day in October in our little Atlantic Islands saw the birth of 2 cultural monsters, 'Eros and Thanatos', the Beatles and Bond. Hooray.
This is a fascinating ‘mash-up’ between 2 great British Institutions, launched on the world stage on the same day … and 60 years later they are the gifts that keep on giving; the story comes right up to date (c.2022) with the post-Beatles Paul and George dignified and still productive in their 80’s, the ‘resetting’ of Bond post-Daniel Craig era, Glastonbury, and Billie Eilish! But I’m jumping ahead of myself.
Although 5th October 1962 is a significant date for both cultural icons, the first Bond film and Beatles single released on the same day, it is not the start of their respective stories, the Beatles had served their apprenticeships in Hamburg and Fleming had been writing a book a year for nearly a decade at Goldeneye, his Jamaican retreat. Higgs digs into this historical & cultural context. Although Lennon would later become a ‘working class hero’, in his own terms, he was actually the most middle-class of the Fab Four. There is a lot of trauma in the early lives of the Beatles, absent fathers, life-threatening illnesses, all relatively poor compared to Ian Fleming’s privileged, but loveless upbringing. The Beatles represent the energy and disruptive power of the young. Ian Fleming and his ‘avatar’ Bond represent the establishment and class divisions. Money was not a problem or driver for Bond/Fleming, because they had plenty, secure in their respective places in the world; post-Colonial, loyal to crown and country, denizens of exclusive clubs, expecting deference and patronage, resistant to change (such as Fleming’s dislike of the NHS), and more or less sexist/misogynist, racist, and reactionary.
The scene is set for no less than the soul of the post-war nation ... but there’s more. Bond was a master of the physical world that Fleming yearned for from behind his wartime desk-job. in Higgs analysis, he represents Thanatos and the Freudian ‘death drive’. The Beatles represent openness, creatively, and love Eros … most of their early songs, and that’s before ‘All you need is love’ and ‘Imagine’, anthems for the new world. The rest the book mostly follows a linear timeline with the main biographical events, clever little parallels, and more subtle interpretations of mood and significance in the second half of the C20th and beyond. There are walk-on parts for Yoko Ono, Allan Klein, Christopher Lee, Desmond Llewelyn ’Q’ and others, and fuller assessments of the lives and times of Lennon, Connery, and Harrison … but oddly not Epstein & George Martin?
The book finishes with a musing on the new Bond and the future of this unique franchise. The Beatles together and apart never really stopped, now picking up a new generation of digital streaming fans, but Bond has to struggle to stay relevant and build on Daniel Craig’s legacy and the traditional coda to the films, ‘James Bond will return’. Bond will be a man (as dictated by Barbara Broccoli), but his background and ethnicity may change, with a different worldview, more inclusive, spiritual & sensitive - if not completely woke(!) - maybe happier in himself, less cruel, still brave and principled and a glamorous wish-fulfilment figure, but bought up to date for younger audiences to represent a more modern image of manhood … in fact more like a composite of the Beatles!
This is a fascinating ‘mash-up’ between 2 great British Institutions, launched on the world stage on the same day … and 60 years later they are the gifts that keep on giving; the story comes right up to date (c.2022) with the post-Beatles Paul and George dignified and still productive in their 80’s, the ‘resetting’ of Bond post-Daniel Craig era, Glastonbury, and Billie Eilish! But I’m jumping ahead of myself.
Although 5th October 1962 is a significant date for both cultural icons, the first Bond film and Beatles single released on the same day, it is not the start of their respective stories, the Beatles had served their apprenticeships in Hamburg and Fleming had been writing a book a year for nearly a decade at Goldeneye, his Jamaican retreat. Higgs digs into this historical & cultural context. Although Lennon would later become a ‘working class hero’, in his own terms, he was actually the most middle-class of the Fab Four. There is a lot of trauma in the early lives of the Beatles, absent fathers, life-threatening illnesses, all relatively poor compared to Ian Fleming’s privileged, but loveless upbringing. The Beatles represent the energy and disruptive power of the young. Ian Fleming and his ‘avatar’ Bond represent the establishment and class divisions. Money was not a problem or driver for Bond/Fleming, because they had plenty, secure in their respective places in the world; post-Colonial, loyal to crown and country, denizens of exclusive clubs, expecting deference and patronage, resistant to change (such as Fleming’s dislike of the NHS), and more or less sexist/misogynist, racist, and reactionary.
The scene is set for no less than the soul of the post-war nation ... but there’s more. Bond was a master of the physical world that Fleming yearned for from behind his wartime desk-job. in Higgs analysis, he represents Thanatos and the Freudian ‘death drive’. The Beatles represent openness, creatively, and love Eros … most of their early songs, and that’s before ‘All you need is love’ and ‘Imagine’, anthems for the new world. The rest the book mostly follows a linear timeline with the main biographical events, clever little parallels, and more subtle interpretations of mood and significance in the second half of the C20th and beyond. There are walk-on parts for Yoko Ono, Allan Klein, Christopher Lee, Desmond Llewelyn ’Q’ and others, and fuller assessments of the lives and times of Lennon, Connery, and Harrison … but oddly not Epstein & George Martin?
The book finishes with a musing on the new Bond and the future of this unique franchise. The Beatles together and apart never really stopped, now picking up a new generation of digital streaming fans, but Bond has to struggle to stay relevant and build on Daniel Craig’s legacy and the traditional coda to the films, ‘James Bond will return’. Bond will be a man (as dictated by Barbara Broccoli), but his background and ethnicity may change, with a different worldview, more inclusive, spiritual & sensitive - if not completely woke(!) - maybe happier in himself, less cruel, still brave and principled and a glamorous wish-fulfilment figure, but bought up to date for younger audiences to represent a more modern image of manhood … in fact more like a composite of the Beatles!
December 11, 2023
Having literally 'come of age' and 'grown up' with the Beatles, I considered myself knowledgeable about their music, biographies and place in history. I learned a great deal more thanks to the insights and details John Higgs provides in this wonderful book. He adds perspective, information and detailed interpretations that helped me solidify further my already strong understandings. Higgs' research and instincts were invaluable.
I was also a huge fan of Ian Fleming novels, James Bond books, long before any of them were made into films. In the late 1950's and early days of the 60's my friends and I devoured all of the Bond books as fresh, amazingly written spy stories that spoke to our teenage need for excitement and adventure. We easily read at least 10 of the novels before any were films, and at that time felt that we had the best kept secret in great new fiction. Aside from the spy games, his license to kill and Bond challenges from a host of monstrous bad guys, I never looked upon his connection to death as anything unusual. It was all just part of the rules of the game, so to speak, like the misogyny, technological innovations bordering on the magical, and abstract literary freedom of adventure novels. We never thought more deeply than that...at least not back then.
Five decades later the Beatles' body of musical work still contains its magic and quality. They remain icons of a time that crosses over to many generations. Despite occasional flaws and later personal issues and judgmental errors after the band split up, they still have a place at the top of musical spectrum. The gifts they gave us all are still being realized and make tapestries of love and creativity that have been unmatched in history.
Two dozen of so Bond movies scattered over the exact same time frame as the Beatles have also made an impact on us. Like all art, these individual films are collectively stronger or weaker, but have evolved into deeply insightful sociopolitical reflections of the world of the past five decades. Higgs points out that they transcend mere film entertainment and reflect a real image of the place British culture has played in the world. I never realized that the first James Bond film was released the same year as the first Beatles single, one of history's greatest ironies!
At times Higgs beats his points to death a bit and makes them almost too clear. But they are unmistakable and remarkable, and much to his credit he stays clear and direct and easy to follow. Even if you haven't seen all the Bond films or heard all of the Beatles' music, his points resonate. My first thought when I saw this book was it might be boring or just rehashed history. It wasn't like that at all. It was fun, readable, interesting and intelligent. It was a wonderful summary of art and history and sociology and politics and pop culture and the interplay of them all.
I was also a huge fan of Ian Fleming novels, James Bond books, long before any of them were made into films. In the late 1950's and early days of the 60's my friends and I devoured all of the Bond books as fresh, amazingly written spy stories that spoke to our teenage need for excitement and adventure. We easily read at least 10 of the novels before any were films, and at that time felt that we had the best kept secret in great new fiction. Aside from the spy games, his license to kill and Bond challenges from a host of monstrous bad guys, I never looked upon his connection to death as anything unusual. It was all just part of the rules of the game, so to speak, like the misogyny, technological innovations bordering on the magical, and abstract literary freedom of adventure novels. We never thought more deeply than that...at least not back then.
Five decades later the Beatles' body of musical work still contains its magic and quality. They remain icons of a time that crosses over to many generations. Despite occasional flaws and later personal issues and judgmental errors after the band split up, they still have a place at the top of musical spectrum. The gifts they gave us all are still being realized and make tapestries of love and creativity that have been unmatched in history.
Two dozen of so Bond movies scattered over the exact same time frame as the Beatles have also made an impact on us. Like all art, these individual films are collectively stronger or weaker, but have evolved into deeply insightful sociopolitical reflections of the world of the past five decades. Higgs points out that they transcend mere film entertainment and reflect a real image of the place British culture has played in the world. I never realized that the first James Bond film was released the same year as the first Beatles single, one of history's greatest ironies!
At times Higgs beats his points to death a bit and makes them almost too clear. But they are unmistakable and remarkable, and much to his credit he stays clear and direct and easy to follow. Even if you haven't seen all the Bond films or heard all of the Beatles' music, his points resonate. My first thought when I saw this book was it might be boring or just rehashed history. It wasn't like that at all. It was fun, readable, interesting and intelligent. It was a wonderful summary of art and history and sociology and politics and pop culture and the interplay of them all.
February 17, 2023
Like me, you may have seen mixed reviews for this book, which has as its central thesis an inextricable link between The Beatles and James Bond, both ‘born’ on the same day. As far as James Bond is concerned, Higgs is referring to the EON-produced films (first appearing in the shape of Dr No); and as far as The Beatles are concerned, he is referring to their Parlophone releases, starting with “Love Me Do”.
So, yes, starting on 5 October 1962 (it was a very good year), Britain produced two cultural phenomena which have endured down the decades.
Which is nice.
Which is unusual, because nothing lasts that long. Consider Elvis. You might have said, in the first couple of decades following his death, that Elvis has endured. And of course there was a biopic released not long ago. But really? Teenagers don’t tend to talk about Elvis. I meet a lot of them. Just the other day, I saw one with Craig Brown’s One Two Three Four sitting at the top of her school bag. But you don’t see them with Elvis books, badges, merch. Except (very) ironically.
And the same sort-of goes for film franchises, if you’re talking about a sequence of films featuring the same central character. Rival Jason Bourne lasted for three good films and then everyone wished there weren’t any more. Indiana Jones, likewise.
So this book has an interesting premise and a good thesis: Bond is Death (thanatos) and the Beatles are Love (eros), and they are the weft and warp of the British cultural psyche, each balancing the other.
And, for a while, it works quite well. But then it gets messy. Once you get into the 90s and the early 2000s and beyond, there’s more to say about Bond and less to say about The Beatles (beyond repeating yourself), and the book kind of sprawls into a series of anecdotes. Each on its own would make for an interesting blog post, but the sense that it all hangs together in a book starts to fall apart. At 300 pages, Higgs might have had something; at 515 pages (including notes etc.), it loses focus and becomes less convincing.
Enjoyable enough: I didn’t know much about Bond, so I felt educated. In terms of The Beatles, there was nothing new to me (bar this link to Bond), but it was good to see how bang up to date Higgs is with the fandom, making reference to the critical reappraisal of McCartney and podcasts who have challenged the Beatles narrative (Another Kind of Mind and One Sweet Dream — although they don’t make it into the index, unfortunately). But perhaps it was that attempt to bring the book as up to date as possible that was its undoing, because the final chapters do feel less cohesive.
So, yes, starting on 5 October 1962 (it was a very good year), Britain produced two cultural phenomena which have endured down the decades.
Which is nice.
Which is unusual, because nothing lasts that long. Consider Elvis. You might have said, in the first couple of decades following his death, that Elvis has endured. And of course there was a biopic released not long ago. But really? Teenagers don’t tend to talk about Elvis. I meet a lot of them. Just the other day, I saw one with Craig Brown’s One Two Three Four sitting at the top of her school bag. But you don’t see them with Elvis books, badges, merch. Except (very) ironically.
And the same sort-of goes for film franchises, if you’re talking about a sequence of films featuring the same central character. Rival Jason Bourne lasted for three good films and then everyone wished there weren’t any more. Indiana Jones, likewise.
So this book has an interesting premise and a good thesis: Bond is Death (thanatos) and the Beatles are Love (eros), and they are the weft and warp of the British cultural psyche, each balancing the other.
And, for a while, it works quite well. But then it gets messy. Once you get into the 90s and the early 2000s and beyond, there’s more to say about Bond and less to say about The Beatles (beyond repeating yourself), and the book kind of sprawls into a series of anecdotes. Each on its own would make for an interesting blog post, but the sense that it all hangs together in a book starts to fall apart. At 300 pages, Higgs might have had something; at 515 pages (including notes etc.), it loses focus and becomes less convincing.
Enjoyable enough: I didn’t know much about Bond, so I felt educated. In terms of The Beatles, there was nothing new to me (bar this link to Bond), but it was good to see how bang up to date Higgs is with the fandom, making reference to the critical reappraisal of McCartney and podcasts who have challenged the Beatles narrative (Another Kind of Mind and One Sweet Dream — although they don’t make it into the index, unfortunately). But perhaps it was that attempt to bring the book as up to date as possible that was its undoing, because the final chapters do feel less cohesive.
March 30, 2024
Literally insane. The amount of work that has gone into this...
Was pleasantly surprised at how radical and critical the book is, especially in terms of masculinity and class in Britain. Most of the time, the analysis is absolute perfection, razor-sharp and brilliantly written. I ADORED how Higgs writes this (with such humour!) and how he circles back to his previous sentences in later chapters to form such complex, creative arguments. I loved, in particular, the juxtaposition of Fleming's and Ringo's early lives - especially with the mention of the NHS. Such stellar writing exposes the infrastructure of class, masculinity and welfare in Britain. This book could so easily have been an absolute dud, but Higgs is a clear talent: able to interweave these two cultural icons across British history without it feeling like we're clutching at straws or stretching the context to fit the argument.
For only 500 pages, Higgs references so much. From Norman England ideology to Russian interference in the 2016 elections and everything in between. As a result, there were times when I did feel like it bit off more than it could chew. That's not to say that Higgs writes it in a way that seems congested or unnecessary as every cultural touchstone adds something meaningful to his wider argument. But, especially at the end, it did feel like there was so much ground to cover/include that the book could do with a couple more hundred pages or a swift cut.
I will also say that I felt that this book is definitely more for the Beatles fans than the Bonds, which obviously worked out well for me. This is one of the best Beatles analyses I've read, Higgs doesn't just settle for an oral history of the band but offers valuable and often ingenious insight into not only their work but their personalities.
All in all, a really enjoyable read that may be too ambitious at times but has such humour and heart to it that it's easy to forgive.
Was pleasantly surprised at how radical and critical the book is, especially in terms of masculinity and class in Britain. Most of the time, the analysis is absolute perfection, razor-sharp and brilliantly written. I ADORED how Higgs writes this (with such humour!) and how he circles back to his previous sentences in later chapters to form such complex, creative arguments. I loved, in particular, the juxtaposition of Fleming's and Ringo's early lives - especially with the mention of the NHS. Such stellar writing exposes the infrastructure of class, masculinity and welfare in Britain. This book could so easily have been an absolute dud, but Higgs is a clear talent: able to interweave these two cultural icons across British history without it feeling like we're clutching at straws or stretching the context to fit the argument.
For only 500 pages, Higgs references so much. From Norman England ideology to Russian interference in the 2016 elections and everything in between. As a result, there were times when I did feel like it bit off more than it could chew. That's not to say that Higgs writes it in a way that seems congested or unnecessary as every cultural touchstone adds something meaningful to his wider argument. But, especially at the end, it did feel like there was so much ground to cover/include that the book could do with a couple more hundred pages or a swift cut.
I will also say that I felt that this book is definitely more for the Beatles fans than the Bonds, which obviously worked out well for me. This is one of the best Beatles analyses I've read, Higgs doesn't just settle for an oral history of the band but offers valuable and often ingenious insight into not only their work but their personalities.
All in all, a really enjoyable read that may be too ambitious at times but has such humour and heart to it that it's easy to forgive.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 20, 2023
Let the record show that I detest The Beatles, and don't really give more than rat's flatulence for James Bond, books or movies! So, why am I reading this and tremendously enjoying it? Because John Higgs could write about cowdung hardening, and make it essential reading! He looks for, and finds, the narratives that are less well trodden upon, and puts a fresh and interesting coat of paint on top. He's a man who understands cultures and the effect of such on the wider community, often points that you may never have considered.
It's likely you may have read his fascinating exploration into the KLF's money burning, or even his slant on Timothy Leary's wild trip, but this study starts from a single point - that The Beatles first single, and the first James Bond film were released on the same day in 1962. I don't think that it's debatable, that The Beatles were the biggest band on the planet, Bond the biggest film series, and Higgs runs with this, detailing the parallels, coincidences, and physical crossovers (more than you might think) of the franchises, dropping in interesting diversions, facts and generally taking the short and straight roads (see what I did there?) to insightful scenarios.
Higgs is always essential reading for me, certainly my favourite living author of non-fiction, and I'd say it would be a safe purchase to pick up any of his books, including his two excursions into fiction!
It's likely you may have read his fascinating exploration into the KLF's money burning, or even his slant on Timothy Leary's wild trip, but this study starts from a single point - that The Beatles first single, and the first James Bond film were released on the same day in 1962. I don't think that it's debatable, that The Beatles were the biggest band on the planet, Bond the biggest film series, and Higgs runs with this, detailing the parallels, coincidences, and physical crossovers (more than you might think) of the franchises, dropping in interesting diversions, facts and generally taking the short and straight roads (see what I did there?) to insightful scenarios.
Higgs is always essential reading for me, certainly my favourite living author of non-fiction, and I'd say it would be a safe purchase to pick up any of his books, including his two excursions into fiction!
February 4, 2023
"Love and Let Die: Bond, the Beatles and the British Psyche" by John Higgs is a comprehensive analysis of the connection between James Bond and The Beatles and their impact on British society in the 1960s. This book is perfect for anyone who wants to understand the cultural atmosphere of the decade and its significance.
Higgs' writing style is engaging and full of witty references that keep the reader hooked. He expertly ties together the bond and Beatles phenomena, showing how they are connected in unexpected ways. The book takes an in-depth look at the social and political context of the 1960s, showing how these two franchises were shaped by and in turn, shaped the era.
One of the highlights of the book is Higgs' personal take on the subject matter. He is not afraid to express his opinions, be it positive or critical, and adds humor to the mix, making the reading experience both informative and entertaining.
In conclusion, "Love and Let Die: Bond, the Beatles and the British Psyche" is a well-written and insightful book that is perfect for anyone interested in the cultural history of the 1960s, or fans of James Bond and The Beatles. Despite some questionable claims about the overarching themes of the book, it is best enjoyed as a collection of fascinating stories.
Higgs' writing style is engaging and full of witty references that keep the reader hooked. He expertly ties together the bond and Beatles phenomena, showing how they are connected in unexpected ways. The book takes an in-depth look at the social and political context of the 1960s, showing how these two franchises were shaped by and in turn, shaped the era.
One of the highlights of the book is Higgs' personal take on the subject matter. He is not afraid to express his opinions, be it positive or critical, and adds humor to the mix, making the reading experience both informative and entertaining.
In conclusion, "Love and Let Die: Bond, the Beatles and the British Psyche" is a well-written and insightful book that is perfect for anyone interested in the cultural history of the 1960s, or fans of James Bond and The Beatles. Despite some questionable claims about the overarching themes of the book, it is best enjoyed as a collection of fascinating stories.
April 15, 2023
This book had potential, but it reads like two separate ideas that Higgs couldn't sell individually crammed together into one overly long tome. After 1967 or so, the Beatles and James Bond didn't really share that much cultural space, and LOVE AND LET DIE strains to tie them together. There's also the glaring difference that the Beatles were real people who stopped working together in 1970 and suffered from mortality while James Bond is a fictional character (as much as he reflected Ian Fleming's fantasies) interpreted by a shifting group of actors, directors and writers for more than 60 years. Higgs' separation of the Beatles and Bond into symbols of love and death is too simplistic; as much as he writes about John Lennon's flaws and violence, he still idealizes him, while only analyzing the lyrics of a few Beatles songs ("Can't Buy Me Love," "All You Need Is Love".) Higgs has little respect for the Bond franchise, so it's strange that the book ends by wondering how it could be re-interpreted in a way completely free from imperialism and misogyny. I don't think it can be, but the series has some interesting nuances Higgs doesn't mention, like the camera's gaze on Sean Connery and Daniel Craig's bodies allowing space for queer male spectators.
September 11, 2023
If, like me, you already know and like John Higgs and, on top of that, you have an undying love for The Beatles, then this is a good book to read. If not, it might not be the best choice.
Some random comments:
- I had wrongly expected him to like Bond as much as he likes the Beatles, which, in retrospect was very unlikely. Still, if I liked Bond as much as I love The Beatles, I would be annoyed at how little effort he makes to try to understand why people like the films so much. It's not that he doesn't try, but it's not a very convincing effort.
- I really wish Higgs, or his editor, would drop at least half of the "of course..." phrases and the preemptives corrections of potential reader thoughts like "you might think that...".
- One of Higgs' talents is finding coincidences and assigning meaning to them without taking them too seriously or going overboard. He's really good at this and one of the reasons I like him. But there are some instances in this book were this skill seems to be used just for fluff. The chapter about Christopher Lee, for example, seems entirely unnecessary, even if it was fun to read.
Anyway: I'm still buying his next book, whatever it's about.
Some random comments:
- I had wrongly expected him to like Bond as much as he likes the Beatles, which, in retrospect was very unlikely. Still, if I liked Bond as much as I love The Beatles, I would be annoyed at how little effort he makes to try to understand why people like the films so much. It's not that he doesn't try, but it's not a very convincing effort.
- I really wish Higgs, or his editor, would drop at least half of the "of course..." phrases and the preemptives corrections of potential reader thoughts like "you might think that...".
- One of Higgs' talents is finding coincidences and assigning meaning to them without taking them too seriously or going overboard. He's really good at this and one of the reasons I like him. But there are some instances in this book were this skill seems to be used just for fluff. The chapter about Christopher Lee, for example, seems entirely unnecessary, even if it was fun to read.
Anyway: I'm still buying his next book, whatever it's about.
October 13, 2023
Fascinating: beyond the superficial parallels (Dr. No’s release date coinciding with that of Please Please Me) and into the cultural ramifications of the creators and their myriad influences on Britain, it mostly connects.
Higgs scrutinizes and deliberates and admits that light also has its shadow; so it comes as no surprise when he travails into the still-developing criticism (more often for Bond than The Beatles, but their foibles are not overlooked here).
Like many a fan Higgs occasionally bites off more than he can chew. It’s a relatable plight: glutted with information (and despite great editing done here) Higgs sometimes plays it fast and loose with the conclusions.
One such example (which he concedes in a great interview at the end of the audiobook with Chris Shaw) is the single-parent tragedy that threads through almost all the protagonists (Bond, three of the Beatles, Fleming) despite the fact that this was not uncommon in post-Second-World-War Britain.
But if we didn’t have such minutiae to complain about, this book might be less satisfying.
Well-structured chronologically (with often relevant deviations or leaps) and a must-read for fans of Bond and The Beatles.
Higgs scrutinizes and deliberates and admits that light also has its shadow; so it comes as no surprise when he travails into the still-developing criticism (more often for Bond than The Beatles, but their foibles are not overlooked here).
Like many a fan Higgs occasionally bites off more than he can chew. It’s a relatable plight: glutted with information (and despite great editing done here) Higgs sometimes plays it fast and loose with the conclusions.
One such example (which he concedes in a great interview at the end of the audiobook with Chris Shaw) is the single-parent tragedy that threads through almost all the protagonists (Bond, three of the Beatles, Fleming) despite the fact that this was not uncommon in post-Second-World-War Britain.
But if we didn’t have such minutiae to complain about, this book might be less satisfying.
Well-structured chronologically (with often relevant deviations or leaps) and a must-read for fans of Bond and The Beatles.
February 10, 2023
Love & Let Die by John Higgs! Did you know that both The Beatle’s first single, Love Me Do & the first James Bond films, Dr. No, came out on October 5, 1962?! Because I certainly didn’t! It is bonkers to me to think how epic that day was looking back at the effect of both of those had on society.
The author describes the dichotomy between the two mega phenomenons with the Beatles representing love & James Bond having a closer relation to death, but they both still managed to have such a colossal effect on culture & history.
I knew more about The Beatles going into this than James Bond. One of my dogs is named Lennon, but I actually learned quite a bit about both.
I appreciated the fact that this was a very honest showcase that didn’t sugarcoat things that may be an unfortunate reminders of history. I also liked the fact that it had relatively short chapters. It went more in-depth than I expected.
If you are a fan of non-fiction, history, The Beatles &/or James Bond, this is a unique read that chronicles a pivotal time that may be an intriguing read for you!
Massive thanks to Pegasus for the free arc, which I voluntarily read & reviewed.
The author describes the dichotomy between the two mega phenomenons with the Beatles representing love & James Bond having a closer relation to death, but they both still managed to have such a colossal effect on culture & history.
I knew more about The Beatles going into this than James Bond. One of my dogs is named Lennon, but I actually learned quite a bit about both.
I appreciated the fact that this was a very honest showcase that didn’t sugarcoat things that may be an unfortunate reminders of history. I also liked the fact that it had relatively short chapters. It went more in-depth than I expected.
If you are a fan of non-fiction, history, The Beatles &/or James Bond, this is a unique read that chronicles a pivotal time that may be an intriguing read for you!
Massive thanks to Pegasus for the free arc, which I voluntarily read & reviewed.
July 14, 2023
In his book, Love and Let Live, the author, John Higgs, manages to entreatingly tell the interconnected stories of the Beatles and James Bond, two pop symbols of British origin, created in the 60s and still present in our modern psyche. Mr. Higgs has a great imagination and links events in these past decades involving these characters in a very thrilling and captivating way. More interesting is how he manages also to fit in historical facts that happened during this period to Bond and the Beatles, not as active personas, but as ideas that shaped the outcome or, at least, contribute to the decision-making process. Here he portrays Bond as the conservative, misogynist, racist, violent, and selfish energy and the Beatles as the exact opposite, exemplifying love, acceptance, tolerance, and union. Again, this is done in a fascinating way that keeps the reading interesting and agile. John Higgs is a huge Beatle fan, a critic of classist Britain, especially those in power (or behind the power). Very biased towards Paul McCartney, but I let that pass. Fun reading, very unexpected the way the book unfolds.
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