Book Review – Thunderball by Ian Fleming #1961Club

About the Book

James Bond is in disgrace. His monthly medical report is critical of the high-living that is ruining his health, and M packs him off for a fortnight in a nature-cure clinic to be tuned-up to his former pitch of exceptional fitness.

Furiously, Bond undergoes the shame of the carrot-juice and nut-cutlet regime – and thereby minutlely upsets the plans of S.P.E.C.T.R.E, a new adversary, more deadly, more ruthless even than Smersh.

What is S.P.E.C.T.R.E? What are its plans? Alas, the organisation is all too realistically described, its plans all too contemporary for comfort. This, the latest James Bond adventure, casts a long and terrible shadow.

Format: Hardcover (191 pages) Publisher: Jonathan Cape
Publication date: March 1961 Genre: Thriller

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My Review

Thunderball is the book I read for the #1961Club, the reading event hosted by Simon at Stuck in a Book and Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings that ends today. It’s also one of the books on my second Classics Club list.

Thunderball is the ninth book in Ian Fleming’s spy thriller series starring James Bond. I only know James Bond from the film versions, expecially the classic ones starring Sean Connery, so I was surprised by how closely events in the book resemble the film. As I discovered, there’s a reason for this because the novel is based on an at the time unpublished screenplay that was a collaboration between Ian Fleming and four other people. When it was published under Ian Fleming’s name only a legal case followed.

Thunderball introduces Bond’s future arch-enemy Enrst Stavro Blofeld and his crime organisation S.P.E.C.T.R.E. (the Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion). Blofeld runs S.P.E.C.T.R.E with ruthless fanaticism, despatching members who disappoint him in inventive ways. The book also sees the return of Bond’s friend Felix Leiter, seconded back into the CIA. This is where it can get confusing if you’ve only seen the films because Leiter is bearing the physical evidence of a deadly encounter in an earlier book.

The plot concerns the theft of two atomic bombs by S.P.E.C.T.R.E in a plan to extort a huge ransom from the UK and US governments or risk the bombs being detonated in unnamed locations. The location of the airplane which carried the bombs is unknown but Bond’s boss M has a hunch it might be the Bahamas. Bond’s not so sure but resigns himself to being posted there. After all, there are worse places to be sent. ‘He would get himself a good sunburn, and watch the show from the wings.’ It will come as no surprise that Bond finds himself not on the sidelines but in the thick of it.

The man in charge of S.P.E.C.T.R.E’s plan on the ground is Blofeld’s second-in-command Emilio Largo whose super-yacht, the Disco Volante, is the operation’s headquarters. Aboard the yacht is Largo’s girlfriend, Domino, with whom Bond – naturally – becomes involved. Unknown to Domino she has a connection to S.P.E.C.T.R.E.’s plan and, when she discovers it, she agrees to help Bond, with unpleasant consequences.

Thunderball was a lot of fun. Yes, some of it is dated but I actually found Bond less misogynistic than I expected. There’s actually a quite tender scene at the end. The plot cleverly feeds in to contemporary concerns about nuclear weapons and introduces some great villains. There are exciting underwater scenes, especially towards the end of the book.

You get the sense Fleming’s Bond possesses many of the characteristics of his creator. A heavy smoker, a connoisseur of cocktails, thoroughly at home at the gaming table and with a taste for fast cars.

In three words: Exciting, glamorous, suspensful

About the Author

Ian Fleming was born in 1908. Best known for his post-war James Bond series of spy novels, he came from a wealthy family. Educated at Eton, Sandhurst, and, briefly, the universities of Munich and Geneva, Fleming moved through several jobs before he started writing. He worked for Britain’s Naval Intelligence Division during the Second World War, drawing from his wartime service and career as a journalist for much of the background, detail, and depth of his James Bond novels. Fleming wrote his first Bond novel, Casino Royale, in 1952. It was a success and eleven Bond novels and two collections of short stories followed between 1953 and 1966. Fleming was a heavy smoker and drinker for most of his life and succumbed to heart disease in 1964 at the age of 56. Two of his James Bond books were published posthumously; other writers have since produced Bond novels. Fleming’s creation has appeared in film twenty-seven times, portrayed by six actors in the official film series.

An excerpt from The Unforgettable Mailman by April Howells @alcovepress

My guest today on What Cathy Read Next is author April Howells whose debut novel The Unforgettable Mailman will be published on 21st April 2026 by Alcove Press and is available to pre-order now.

The Unforgettable Mailman is described as ‘a heartwarming story about intergenerational friendship and the power of human connection, perfect for fans of Fredrik Backman’. Personally it sounds really lovely but you can make up your own mind by reading the excerpt below.

About the Book

It’s never too late for the adventure of a lifetime, even if you can’t remember why you started.

1966, Chicago. Backlogged with millions of undelivered letters, the post office announces a temporary closure. But eighty-one-year-old Henry Walton can’t stand idly by when there’s mail waiting to be delivered. He believes letters are what keep people connected, and he’s not about to let them get lost in the chaos.

Plus, connection keeps the mind sharp – according to a note someone’s pinned up in his kitchen.

While the post office scrambles to get things under control, Henry races against time and forgetfulness. Taking it upon himself to deliver the mail, he discovers hatred and tragedy, triumph and joy in the letters he carries and the people he meets along the way.

Inspired by true events, this delightful story will linger with readers long after they turn the last page – and might just inspire someone to write a letter, the old-fashioned way.

Find The Unforgettable Mailman on Goodreads

Excerpt from The Unforgettable Mailman by April Howells

1

Thursday, October 13, 1966
10:03 AM

A note on the counter prompted Henry to shave every day. Another told him in faded ink that he should not, under any circumstances, try to use the iron. And one, scrawled on the back of an old paper bag, screamed CONNECTION IS CRITICAL TO KEEP YOUR MINDSHARP.

None of them explained where he’d put the stamps.

The letter to his son languished on the kitchen table, its bare corner a constant reminder of the missing postage. Leaning his cane against the wall, he tugged at the middle drawer. A squeal filled the room, expanded wood groaning at the disturbance. Shoving items out of the way— rusting scissors, loose matches, three rubber bands—he searched for the roll.

At the bottom, a fork stared up at him, out of place. There were no stamps.Henry’s chest tightened. Someone had stolen them. They’d climbed in through the window and taken them in the night. All he’d wanted was a light breeze, and now he was paying the price. The window would need to stay closed permanently.

And he would need to replace the pilfered roll.


The post office spanned two Chicago blocks. Henry took the steps oneat a time, careful not to trip. At the top, nine doors all led to the same lobby. He chose the third door from the left.

It was locked.

Moving over, he tried the next. By the time he’d checked all nine, his knee throbbed with the effort. Cupping a hand, Henry peered inside. Shadows floated through the expansive lobby, washing every thing out. With a huff, he tapped his cane on the window. The ting of wood on glass sounded hollow. Gripping the handle firmly, he banged louder: ten quick raps that echoed down the steps.

There had to be someone inside.

Minutes passed, and a dull ache pulsed its way up his arm. He lowered his cane, jaw clenched. Turning his back to the building, Henry took the first step, placing one foot down and then the next.

Behind him, someone grunted. “What?”

Henry spun around to find a rotund man in a security uniform leaning halfway out the door, drops of sweat dripping from his brow onto the limestone in tiny bursts.

“I need to buy some stamps.” Henry took the step again and moved toward the door.

The guard didn’t budge. “We’re closed.”

“Closed?” Henry repeated. It was the middle of the day.

“Yeah, closed. Shut. Not open.” Thick fingers wiped at a wet brow. Henry thought they looked like the sausages his wife, Elsie, liked to burn.

“I must be missing something,” Henry insisted, knuckles turning white on the handle of his cane. “I just need stamps.” It would only take a moment. No need to make a fuss.

“Like I said.” The guard dragged the words out, rather unnecessarily. “The post office is closed. There’s no one here to sell you stamps.”

Without waiting for a reply, the man squeezed his oversized body through the gap and slammed the door shut.

Henry watched him slouch away and tried to make sense of the news.

About the Author

April is a storyteller who finds heartwarming inspiration in little-known pieces of history. With a background in magazine publishing, she’s spent the last decade leading Global Internal Communications and Employee Engagement for premium apparel brand lululemon. Raised in southern Ontario, she now resides on the west coast of Canada with her husband and a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog named Chief. The Unforgettable Mailman is her debut novel. (Photo: Publisher website)

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