Boyd’s bond

VOGUE Hommes International (English) - - DON’T MISS -

James Bond is afraid of grow­ing old. Al­ready in the last in­stal­ment of the se­ries, Skyfall, he spends his time suck­ing up dis­parag­ing re­marks about age lim­its and be­ing old–school in a world of geeks and meta­data. At least the on–screen Bond lives in the 21st cen­tury. Less can be said about his nov­el­is­tic coun­ter­part, penned by Wil­liam Boyd. Solo takes us back to 1969 when Bond raises a soli­tary glass of cham­pagne to his 45th birth­day. While other men get through their mid–life cri­sis by chew­ing their nails, the Bri­tish nov­el­ist sends Bond to a West African na­tion in the midst of civil war, with a métisse by his side ( and, shortly after, in his bed ). The ul­ti­mate beach novel, with the As­ton Martin parked

out­side the lo­cal su­per­mar­ket. Pub­lished by Jonathan Cape / HarperCollins.

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