DEAD HAND
“I think you’re a sexist, misogynist dinosaur. A relic of the Cold War, whose boyish charms, though lost on me, obviously appealed to that young girl I sent out to evaluate you.” — M.
“I shall not waste my days prolonging them. I shall use my time.” — Ian Lancaster Fleming.
Continuation novels: the unloved, neglected stepchildren of fiction. Never quite able to capture the magic of the original author’s work, even when they’re excellently written in their own right, critics and certain fans will wail that the final product is inferior. Recently, however, two books have bucked this trend. The first was The Survivor by Kyle Mills. The second is the book I’m reviewing today: Ian Fleming’s Trigger Mortis. For half a century, the Fleming estate has released continuation novels for James Bond. Many were bad, some improved with age, and the rest are best left unmentioned.
Most recently, there have been three books. The first, Devil May Care, was a horrendous, blundering wreck of a story whose author butchered Bond to the point of unrecognizability. Second came Carte Blanche, a failed experiment that tried to modernize Bond but did so at the cost of the Fleming touch. Finally, there was Solo, which according to many reviews was just plain boring.
So when a fourth 007 continuation novel was announced, many of the more fanatical Bond fans and serious literary critics despaired. Trigger Mortis. The title was unjustly savaged as corny, and concerns grew due to the over-hyped return of a character from a previous book. It therefore came as a major surprise when virtually every literary critic lavished the book with praise and every Bond fan site toasted the arrival of author Anthony Horowitz. All were in unanimous agreement: Trigger Mortis is the best James Bond continuation novel ever released and, standing on its own, a damn good story.
How did this happen?
For starters, the Fleming estate gave Horowitz a TV treatment written by Fleming for an unproduced James Bond episode. Next, the book is set in the original timeline, only months after the Goldfinger novel—giving it an authentic Fleming-era feel. But the greatest reason for the book’s success is quite simply the author himself.
Horowitz made his name as a TV writer and young adult novelist. His most famous creation, Alex Rider, was the first genuinely successful teenage spy series of the last decade. I borrowed some of the books from a young nephew and found them to be brutally dark deconstructions of the very concept of a teenage spy, highlighting how psychologically crushed a teenager would become in such a profession. So when he was announced as the next Bond continuation novelist, I was in the minority who were delighted.
And Horowitz did not disappoint. Unlike the authors of DMC, CB and Solo, Horowitz is a Bond purist par excellence. He understood what makes a Bond novel great, yet resisted the urge to impose his own vision so heavily that it would blot out Fleming’s—a sin committed by all three authors before him.
Horowitz studiously replicated Fleming’s writing style and characterization of Bond: Her Majesty’s blunt instrument, a well-dressed, martini-swilling government assassin with social views that would give half of today’s social justice warriors a seizure. Yet paradoxically, Horowitz also balanced this fidelity with a willingness to deconstruct some of the more unpleasant tropes and conventions that made Fleming notorious.
Now to the review. What happens when a casualty of the Cold War rises from the grave?
The novel begins on the East Coast of America. A German-American rocket scientist who took advantage of the OSS’s Operation Paperclip is busy betraying his adopted country for money. He meets a shadowy individual in a diner to receive payment for a service conducted at a rocket facility on behalf of this man’s boss. Returning home, he tells his wife to pack—but she promptly stabs him, steals the money, and leaves him to die in a towering inferno.
We then cut to London.
Bond is summoned by M for a strange assignment. Intelligence gathered by a murdered Czech asset indicates that the Soviets plan to kill Britain’s top racing driver at the upcoming German Grand Prix.
Bond, being literature and cinema’s premier badass driver, is well suited to the task. He is sent to train at the Nürburgring with a female racing driver. They play off each other well; she assists him when a problem from his past returns to haunt him, and they part on good terms—with someone special in the bargain. Heading to Germany, 007 enters the race and neutralizes the Soviet assassin by running him off the track before he can kill his target. But Bond knows he is not finished. Before the race, he spotted a high-value target, the leader of SMERSH’s black ops division, arguing with a Korean man.
Wrangling an invitation to the after-race party at the Korean’s castle, Bond learns that the man is Jae Sung Sin, a multimillionaire American businessman. Sneaking into the upper levels of the castle, Bond finds documents hinting at a conspiracy and encounters a mysterious American woman. Seconds later, Sin’s security bursts in, sending 007 into a new race—one that will take him across the Atlantic and into the bowels of a scheme that, if successful, would alter the balance of power in the Cold War with no one the wiser. With the clock ticking toward rocket launch and a major assault planned against a Western metropolis, one question remains: in a battle between two dead men walking, who will survive?
Plot
Trigger Mortis is executed to perfection. Horowitz aims to replicate the feel and style of the original novels—as far as modern standards allow. The story is packed with the surreal, absurd, yet thrilling threats that defined the middle era of Fleming’s work. It’s back to the 1950s, complete with period detail, atmosphere, oceans of alcohol and fogs of cigarette smoke. While inspired by threads and themes from the original books, Trigger Mortis also provides the pace and intensity expected of a modern spy thriller.
As a continuation novel, how does it fare?
Extremely well. Like Kyle Mills when finishing Vince Flynn’s The Survivor, Horowitz emulates the original author’s style while subtly making his own mark on the series.
The writing heavily echoes Fleming—from vivid metaphors to exclamation-mark-laden internal monologue, to the infamous censored swearing conventions of Goldfinger. Bond’s characterization is also a standout: the killer all men want to be and all women lust after, the martini-chugging blunt instrument of British foreign policy. Despite some unenlightened views, he means well and possesses the moral fortitude to defend civilization from those who would destroy it.
At the same time, this is not a total clone of Fleming. In today’s world, that would be impossible. To balance nostalgia, Horowitz downplays certain tropes, pokes fun at others, and demolishes the rest. Bond does not get the girl; she rightly concludes he could never be long-term commitment material. The Bond girl herself is far more competent than those of the original novels, saving Bond multiple times through quick thinking.
Then there is the mature resolution to the Pussy Galore thread from Goldfinger. Horowitz deconstructs the infamous “heterosexual conversion” trope, showing the hollowness of her relationship with Bond and ultimately having her find the right woman—specifically the racing driver training Bond—and leave with her. Horowitz skilfully dissects and overturns many of Fleming’s notorious conventions while faithfully recreating the style itself.
Before writing this, I read an analysis of the novel from a Bond fan site whose findings I agreed with: Trigger Mortis contains a running theme of letting go of the past. Pussy Galore’s appearance is meta—irrelevant to the plot, serving only as a reminder of the original timeline. Horowitz uses her to highlight that we cannot cling to certain aspects of Bond in this day and age, no matter what the films pretend.
Within the narrative, multiple characters struggle to break free from their pasts. The villain failed to do so and was consumed by madness. Even the secondary protagonist recognizes that her relationship with Bond could never last and maturely tells him to move on—contrasting sharply with Bond’s naive delusion at the start that he and Pussy Galore might work.
Setting and Characters
The story takes place largely in snow-swept Germany and the American East Coast. From a harrowing black-bag job in a surreal German castle to a bloody gunfight in a New Jersey motel and a breathtaking race along the Coney Island subway line, Horowitz provides excellent backdrops for Bond’s violent exploits.
Three characters deserve focus: Bond, the girl, and the target.
Bond
Horowitz’s Bond is the closest to Fleming’s original: a skilled Cold Warrior with absolute certainty that killing Britain’s enemies is right and necessary. He’s undeniably badass—getting buried alive at a New Jersey construction site doesn’t stop him from breaking necks once he digs himself out. The Bond of earlier continuation novels was more passive; Horowitz’s Bond taunts his enemies before trying to kill them. Yet this Bond is also forced to confront moral ambiguity he hasn’t faced since Casino Royale.
Jeopardy Lane
Jeopardy Lane, the Bond girl, is an agent of the USSS, specializing in counterfeiting investigations. A former showgirl and stuntwoman, she meets Bond in Germany and—much to his irritation—outwits him, stealing a package meant for London. Later in America, they join forces.
Lane is an excellent character: professional, competent, unimpressed by Bond’s charm, and absolutely capable of defending herself. She possesses skills Bond lacks, and one of them proves decisive in the climax.
Jae Sung Sin
The villain, Jae Sung Sin, is a Korean-American millionaire whose life was destroyed during the Korean War. He rebuilt himself in the United States but was later warped by trauma and cultivated as a Soviet asset. Unlike many Fleming villains, Sin is not a cartoonish monster; his motivations are rooted in real historical atrocity—specifically the No Gun Ri incident, which shattered his sanity and worldview.
He is obsessed with death, having narrowly escaped it, and aspires to obtain the power of death through a unique card game (which inspired the title of this review). His confrontation with Bond, fiction’s most famous dealer of death, is enthralling.
Criticism?
The main henchman meets an anticlimactic end. Though formidable in his attempt to kill Bond, his shallow characterization and abrupt disposal—courtesy of Jeopardy’s car—felt like a missed opportunity.
Verdict
Trigger Mortis is the best James Bond continuation novel ever written and one of the finest continuation novels in general. Authored by someone who respected the series he contributed to, it serves up a well-shaken cocktail of nostalgia, solid plotting, a surprisingly deep narrative beneath its winks to the past, and all the thrills readers expect from a good spy novel. If you’re a Bond fan who has despaired at the previous continuation works, rest easy: Trigger Mortis hits dead center where its predecessors missed time and again.