Casino Royale by Ian Fleming
Perhaps (probably?) because I am a woman, I find that the prose of Ian Fleming leaves me cold. The reason I read this book is that it was our book club selection for the month. I confess that otherwise, I would never have attempted it. But when a friend selected it for the book club, I was glad, because it would coerce me into reading something I would otherwise not have read. For good reason, as it turns out. I think 007 is pretty horrid as a character; I would not like to know him. So hanging out with him throughout 181 pages was a prescription for pain.
Also, this book is full of three things I don’t enjoy: detailed action scenes (yawn), lots of French phrases (pretension!), and descriptions of card games/gambling (another big yawn, because I’m happily clueless about that topic).
One thing I did like: the page numbers appear as “002,” “010,” etc. That I liked. How’s that for damning with faint praise? I’ll leave this one on the shelves for the fellas.