Люби і дай померти: Джеймс Бонд, «Бітлз» і британський характер

by John Higgs

Одного жовтневого дня 1962 року у світ вийшов Love Me Do — дебютний альбом «Бітлз», і «Доктор Ноу» — перший фільм про Джеймса Бонда. Невдовзі «Бітлз» стали найвпливовішим гуртом в історії музики, а неперевершений агент 007 — найуспішнішим кіногероєм усіх часів. Ці новинки цілковито змінили музичну та кіноіндустрії й репутацію Британії у світі: зненацька замість червоних мундирів і гармат Англія почала штампувати шпигунські трилери і альбоми патлатих хлопців. Більшість країн могли тільки мріяти про перетворення культурного експорту на всесвітнє явище такого масштабу. А те, що постімперська Британія одночасно народила дві сенсації такого рівня — безпрецедентний випадок.

«Люби і дай померти» — це історія двох величезних культурних феноменів, що означили американські прагнення, фантазії та уявлення людей про самих себе. Джон Гіґґз назавжди змінить ваше уявлення про Beatles, Джеймса Бонда та трансатлантичну попкультуру: від першопричин ненависті Бонда до Beatles та чому Пол Маккартні так хотів бути агентом 007 і до історії Рінґо — завойовника дівчини Бонда.

Genres: Music, History, Nonfiction, Film, Biography, Audiobook, Sociology

448 pages, Hardcover

First published February 7, 2023

About the author

Also see J.M.R. Higgs

Reviews

[Scott · Rating 4 out of 5]

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!!! 😉

[Nigeyb · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Wee Lassie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Considering it’s subject matter, not nearly enough Ringo in the book.

[Dave · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Igor Mogilnyak · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5⭐️

Якщо вам подобається Бітлз, Бонд та Британія ( як і мені), то вам точно увесь текст зайде і буде маса цікавої інфи, стікерів понаклеював багато.

[CJ · Rating 4 out of 5]

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!

[James Peak · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Tolkien InMySleep · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

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?

[William Connelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[ScottyEnn · Rating 3 out of 5]

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

[Jon Arnold · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Robbie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Nearing the end of Emma Warren’s Dance Your Way Home, she muses:

“The old story of ‘Rule Britannia’ and glorious empire is aging, and we haven’t developed a new one that enough of us can believe in.“

In the context of her book, this mostly refers to how the British establishment continues to consciously ignore the contribution of the Windrush generation on British culture, especially on dance music and the music industry at large. In ‘Love And Let Die’, John Higgins similarly highlights the constant cognitive dissonance within the post-war British psyche.

Even before going back to the 1960s, this isn’t hard to imagine. Any time discussions surrounding who Daniel Craig’s successor as Bond might be, you will definitely read a headline along the lines of “Is Bond ‘woke’ now?” And the popular implication that Bond could be played by a black actor is met with outrage. Beyond that, when the establishment can’t sow seeds of division and purity, it will just retcon the nuances of British icons. For example, discussions about Alan Turing and Freddie Mercury’s sexuality are often omitted when talking about their contribution to the empire in the same way that Sean Connery’s woman-beating and Ian Fleming’s (and a lot of British aristocrats) brushes with fascism are omitted. A lot of this is covered later in the book, and Higgs spends the majority of the book weaving through 6 decades of popular culture, a pretty thorough history of the Beatles’ story, and an insane amount of coincidences, parallels and anecdotes.

I actually loved this. I think any time I thought I was starting to notice a potential shortcoming in the book I quickly started to appreciate John’s approach to his chronology. For example, at times when I wanted him to get deeper into specific people’s psyche or expand on the cultural climate of a decade (e.g. there aren’t a lot of references to other contemporaries and culture-makers), he made reference to something and moved on, and this actually benefitted the flow of the book and didn’t allow the narrative to get lost in tangents, e.g. I think everything that needs to be said about Ian Fleming is covered, unsavoury characters are noted but never laboriously condemned, and even trivial parallels don’t feel like excess. Even the title (which I thought was a bit cringe at first) works in highlighting how the two monoliths failed to exist harmoniously in the tale of the empire.

The final part of the book, ‘AFTERMATH’ is a lot of fun and at times fascinating. I feel like at this point there’s this kind of vibe that Higgs has a lot more to gush about, and this sees topics which could be namedropped in other chapters getting a short but dedicated chapter. Take ‘Desmond Llewelyn’, where Higgs clearly wants to give a shout out to the longest-appearing Bond character, and somehow justifies this by tying in an anecdote about The Beatles being bad drivers. Then on the other hand, you have the topic of Russia, which rises suddenly as an existential threat from ‘Come on, Mr. Putin!’ onwards. This is the chapter I thought was fascinating as it risked coming off as a reach or filler (there was a jump of 11 years in the chapters at one point) but managed to inject some context and some blood into The Beatles’ twilight years and justify Bond’s continued existence.

This is then proceeded by what I feel is the crescendo of the whole book, ‘Golden Thread’. These two chapters I feel like he just absolutely goes for it, and using the Olympics as a culmination point for most of what is covered in the entire book, especially the ‘recuperation’ of the Beatles into the establishment, is almost showstopping.

Although I haven’t watched a Bond film in years (last one I seen was Spectre), this book did encourage me to finally listen to all of the Beatles albums (Sgt. Pepper and Revolver have always been and still are my favourites), but that being said, the way Higgs tells the story means that anyone could read this book without having listened to the Beatles beyond the inescapable hits. One thing Higgs didn’t mention which I often see is that millennials and Gen-Z typically undermine the Beatles as “4 white men” whereas if the Beatles started out with today’s culture wars they would be classed as “woke” by the establishment. As Higgs implies, I would say Bond’s relevancy hinges on coming to an end judging by Marvel’s decline, but with each new generation the Beatles always seem to be relevant yet underrated. The legacy of the Beatles never really struggles to sustain itself, and even missteps, like the genuinely shit AI-assisted song ‘Then and Now’ don’t sully their legacy, and modern reevaluations can’t find anything particularly damning in their past either (beyond Lennon’s abusive nature). In terms of the “story of Rule Britannia”, there is much to still be discovered in the Beatles story which could actually make someone proud to be British.

“It is one thing to be famous, but quite another to be history.” - Paul McCartney

[Douglas Noakes · Rating 5 out of 5]

"If the Beatles are an expression of yes and the Bond is a statement of no, they are an ability to choose the right response at any given moment. The fantasy of being Bond has always been a desire to be confident, skilled and brave. To make it modern it also has to be wise, there is no reason why you can’t be emotionally intelligent behind the wheel of a really fast sports car. Or to put it another way they need an ambition and mastery of Paul, the bravery and honesty of John, the sense of higher purpose and great cause of George and an ability to enjoy life of Ringo.”--John Higgs, Love and Let Die

This book is easy to put a negative spin on. Lots of books have already been written on the subject of the four Beatles, and a passel of others cover Ian Fleming's fictional James Bond. So this is just some pop culture overkill job, right?

Well not so fast.

John Higgs' book reminds us that both the Beatles' first single ("Love Me Do") and the first 007 film ("Doctor No") premiered on the same day in record stores and cinemas on the same Friday in October of 1962. Fifty years later, the Opening Ceremonies of the Summer Olympics in London featured Sir Paul McCartney but several other modern rock acts covering other familiar Beatles tunes.

There was also a skit where Daniel Craig, playing Bond, escorts the real Queen Elizabeth II to a helicopter to open the games. A lot had changed in a half-century, but these two institutions were still a vibrant representation of their country of origin. How did it all happen? And what does it say about the creative powers of these two very different pop culture enterprises--Beatle music and Bond films--that made each so successful in 2012 and beyond?

You might not agree with all of Higgs' takes on these two institutions. Yet he is always provocative and on point, not letting the narrative of the Liverpool Lads, for instance, get bogged down by the well-covered peccadilloes of their private lives. He also chronicles the succeeding waves of attempts by the producers to keep 007 relevant in a world he no longer makes sense in if they followed Fleming's original sex, sadism, and snobbery playbook.

This is a good book that weaves the respective stories of these icons, real and fictional. Mr. Higgs sees the Beatles' legacy as more relevant to modern times. Paul McCartney and Ringo are still with us, thankfully, but due coverage is given to the legacy of the most revered Beatle, John Lennon.

“His voice was proof that no matter how lost you may be you are never alone because there are people like John Lennon who could reach you.”--John Higgs

And due credit is given to the most spiritual and aloof of the group, George Harrison.

Mr. Higgs points up ways that Fleming's James Bond can become an evolved masculine agent, retain a healthy but not predatory sexual appetite, and still protect King and Country (and the odd pretty lady) while injecting a bit of fun into the often spectacular and lethal proceedings.

[Josef Komensky · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Claire Binkley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maybe I still haven't really "gotten it." And that's why I still need to go. I still haven't ventured there. I have spoken to several brilliant English people, and I've seen a certain amount of photography of what it's like.

Well, I don't know if I understand, but I think coming closer is worth further investigation now that there is a new monarch, Charles III.

My mother had always told me to read everything I could about a place (and those from there) before I went, so I am following her suggestion.

[Danielle · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Peter · Rating 5 out of 5]

A really entertaining and informative read. If you think you know a lot about the Beatles (like I did before I started reading) or Bond there are plenty of new stories and cultural connections for you here.

Having sped through the book in what seems like double-quick time, I now feel like going back and picking out my favourite chapters to re-read. I actually think that it’s as much a book you can dip into serendipitously as follow the chronological flow from cover to cover.

I also like how Higgs doesn’t shy away from describing the darker side of the characters involved, in particular giving a nicely rounded view of the personalities of the four Beatles in an age when there seems to be an increasing tendency to present them as almost infallible human beings.

[jaroiva · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Zdá se, že někde mezi Bondem a Beatles existuje identita, o kterou stojí za to usilovat."

[Jose Vidal · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quizás mejor cuando se dedica al análisis cultural o de la sociedad británica que cuando se lanza con la política internacional, pero aún así una lectura interesante. También da la sensación de que tiene mucho más interés en una parte de la "comparación" (los Beatles) que la otra (James Bond) y a veces parece buscar comparaciones o conexiones un poco peregrinas para sustentar la unión de ambos temas.
Curioso a pesar de todo

[Steve Harrison · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fascinating parallel story of the James Bond and Beatles and their enduring influence on British culture and attitudes. Very highly recommended.

[Andrew Fish · Rating 1 out of 5]

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.

[Michael Reilly · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book starts from a fabulous coincidence. On Friday, October 5, 1962, the Beatles released their first record, "Love Me Do" and the first James Bond film, "Dr. No", premiered.

Higgs traces both the Beatles and Bond to the present day. He starts with the two different roles they played. The Beatles were the explosion of young fun after WW2 and the grim 1950s in Britian. James Bond was the last gasp of the vision of England as the great power manipulating the world with class and cleverness. The Beatles were love and silliness. Bond was cool and violence.

Higgs knows how to tell stories of popular culture. His book "KLF" is a classic. He thrives on the details that are telling. He shows how the structure of the Bond films is based on Alfred Hitchcock's "North by Norhtwest". He tells how Ian Fleming, an unpleasant, insecure, semi-fascist, spoiled rich guy, created James Bond as the model of who he wished he was.

There are not many new stories left about the Beatles, but Higgs has interesting takes. John wrote mostly songs about himself. Paul never learned to read music. George was haunted by his inability to come to grips with the fact that being a Beatle was a life sentence. Ringo was not the smartest Beatle, but he may have been the wisest.

The later parts of the story are fascinating. In 1962 the Beatles and Bond were the opposite poles of English pop culture. They merged over the years. Bond became more camp and more morally ambivalent. The post-Beatles became more mainstream. Paul wrote the theme song to "Live and Let Die". That would have been unthinkable in 1962.

Higgs makes the point that the wild opening stunts in the Bond films were done live by stunt people. There was no CGI. He has some harrowing stories about filming the stunts.

I particularly enjoyed learning the Ringo's wife, Barbara Bach, was the Bond girl in "The Spy Who Loved Me.". He also has a chapter on Desmond LLewelyn. He played "Q" in seventeen Bond films. He was the guy who outfitted Bond with his special cars and weapons. Everybody loved him. Ironically, he died in a head on car crash.

This is a very well told story. Higgs likes dropping clever lines like, "cocaine in particular acts as fascism in powdered form." The grand theorizing about the connections between the society, Bond and the Beatles are interesting and well thought out, but I enjoyed the good stories that are packed into this book.

[Alex Sarll]

Since his majestic KLF opus, I've read most of John Higgs' books as soon as they're out, or in one case before. But then they mostly covered subjects I like, or at least am interested in; hell, even the misguidedly optimistic one about the 21st century came out during what now looks like the early, funny stuff. Whereas this... one franchise that lost its way at the turn of the century, one where I've only ever liked a handful of songs? This could wait for either libraries (who have never obliged, presumably to avoid the headache of where to shelve it) or a heavily discounted ebook. Which eventually materialised, but I'm left wondering if I might have been better off continuing not to bother. The founding detail is perfectly Higgsian – the first Beatles single and the first Bond film were released on the same day. And the interpretation he puts on this – Beatles as Eros, Bond as Thanatos; Beatles as the new, temporarily more classless Britain, Bond as the old hierarchical one – are resonant enough that they could certainly have made for an excellent chapter, maybe even a brief ebook. But fuck me, they don't half feel hammered home over 400 pages. And that doesn't just mean this book was a bit of a trial, it also puts retroactive cracks in my love for his other books. Is this how his KLF and Who books read to people somehow unaware that those are the best things since sliced bread*? Was he always coasting on halos of goodwill?

Truthfully, I don't think so. Not least because Higgs' fingerwagging tendencies do surface a lot here, which is mostly fair enough when applied to Lennon in particular, the world still not having entirely processed quite what a wanker he was, but surely pretty superfluous when it comes to Bond and his creator, whose problematic tendencies were commonly understood even before online twerps started telling people to buckle up. But my word, the hagiographic tendency can become grating when it comes to the Beatles' work. Consider his thoughts on the early singles, where apparently "The words sung by John, Paul and George might appear simple, but this was a feature rather than a bug – those simple phrases bypassed the nets of the intellect and, propelled by the confidence of the music, arrived undiluted in the heart. The boys sang of wanting to hold a hand or asked the listener to please please him – words which held enormous emotional power. They would only have been weakened by the kind of literary ambitions that better-educated songwriters believed were necessary." Which is not only a strained defence of some crushingly inane records, but surely ought to return as a black mark later once the band become more ambitious? I much prefer George's assessment, quoted separately: "We were lucky. We got away with it first." More broadly, while determined to yoke the Beatles to wider social changes, Higgs seems insistent on never showing them as one band among many. The whole 'Beatles and Stones' concept is only brought up to be pooh-poohed as an absurd comparison; the creative rivalry with the Beach Boys gets one mention. There's one passing reference to the sixties British songwriter I think is the best of the decade and thus maybe a quarter as good as Higgs' pedestalled Beatles, and given the book's frequent invocation of Eros and Thanatos, I find something very Freudian in his diminishment to 'Ray Davis'. You'd certainly never know from here that the top five biggest selling singles of the sixties saw four Beatles entries joined by one from Ken Dodd. Most glaring of all, Higgs doesn't even seem to realise that Imagine sucks in a way black holes can only dream of. Though he does at least quote a note from Elton John to John and Yoko which more accurately reflects their approach and makes me think better of Elton than I ever have before: "Imagine six apartments, it isn't hard to do. One is full of fur coats, the other full of shoes." But the constant exaltation of the music feels particularly daft when, elsewhere, Higgs has quite correctly noted the absurdity and bathos of Bond's constant insistence that everything he has and does is the best. Especially when, although Higgs doesn't note it, the recipe for Bond's famous martini specifies bloody Gordon's.

Still, in between wading through that fulsome drivel, there were enough excellent details to keep me going, the sort of symbolic conjunctions Higgs is so good at digging up. Sometimes it's intersections between the two subjects; the song which becomes the title is an obvious one, but there are plenty more, like the actor who appeared in Bond and Beatles films in the same year, arguably playing the same character. Not always, though; if Bond is a fantasy of Britain's post-imperial potency, how perfect that Anthony Eden recovered from his post-Suez collapse at Fleming's Goldeneye retreat! And when Higgs stops abasing himself at the altar of the Fab Four, his dry humour intermittently returns: "The 'Paul Is Dead' conspiracy claimed that Paul McCartney was killed in a car crash in November 1966. This was not true, although in December 1965 he did crash a moped on the Wirral." He's good on various sidelights, such as why the very approach that served McCartney so well as a songwriter was never likely to transfer to screenwriting. But elsewhere he'll finesse or simply fumble the facts: yes, a lot of Bond's friends and lovers get killed, but it's absurd to say "The usual rule is that if an ally (other than Q or M) returns for a second film, then they won't make it to the end" and not add Moneypenny to those exceptions. Indeed, she's something of an absence throughout, possibly because she torpedoes or at least complicates the thesis that, at least until the later Craig films, Bond is death to women. Similarly, in order to make Craig having time to die after all seem like the shamanic big deal he wants it to be, Higgs has to act like all the actors were absolutely, definitely supposed to be playing the same Bond, never allowing Lazenby's "This never happened to the other fellow" to darken his pages (though he's otherwise very interesting on that brief blip of an era, especially how it began and ended). As for describing Bond as "the Lancelot of the Second Elizabethan Era", I can't decide whether that suggests 007 was shagging Liz or Phil.

So yeah. Bit of a mistake, all told.

*Stupid expression, come to think of it; it is better for sandwiches, but I'd definitely rather lose it than either the Doctor or the JAMMs.

[Jonathan Cosgrove · Rating 5 out of 5]

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!

[Two Envelopes And A Phone · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Radella Hardwick · Rating 4 out of 5]

There was less analysis of the British psyche than I was hoping for. And, while the Bond franchise was subjected to some critical thought, The Beatles were juat accepted as amazing with the verve of a fanboy.

As a Millennial woman who has never yet come across a Beatles song I'd actively choose to listen to (but has had to tour the Beatles' museum for work), this attitude became quite tiresome.

[John Bleasdale · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent fascinating series of essays casting a web of connections of two massive English cultural phenomena which began on the same afternoon with the release of the first Beatles single and the first James Bond movie.

[Ellen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Liked the sociology; found the psychology tedious.

[David Jennings · Rating 4 out of 5]

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,

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.