Did E Phillips Oppenheim invent James Bond?

Who do the following two literary characters remind you of? The first is a resourceful, tough, sardonic man of action. He's attractive to women. He travels the world, he's handy with a gun, and uses gadgets in his pursuit of the villain. He's a bit of a daredevil, too. At one point, he jumps off a bridge on to a moving train.

The second is a former military officer and a spy. He's attractive to women. He's not afraid of danger, and is also handy with a gun. He travels widely, and knows his way around the Alps and the casino. He enjoys a cocktail or two and a game of golf, and he drives a high-powered sports car.

Sound familiar? No, neither is James Bond, but they could be. The first is American detective, Sanford Quest, the hero of the novel, The Black Box (1915). The second is another American, Major Martin Fawley, a freelance spy in the novel The Spy Paramount (1934). Both books are by the English thriller writer, E Philips Oppenheim, who was also one of Ian Fleming's favourite authors.

I'm not actually going to argue that Oppenheim invented James Bond, but reading The Black Box, The Spy Paramount, and others, Bond appears to be cut from the same cloth as Oppenheim's heroes, and we could make just as good a case as Simon Winder and Nigel West did when they argued that a contemporary author, Phyllis Bottome invented a prototype James Bond in her novel, The Lifeline (1946). Indeed, Oppenheim has the advantage, because Fleming identifies him as an influence. He told Jack Fishman that 'I was considerably influenced by those masters of the modern thriller, Hammett and Chandler, and, to some extent, in my childhood, by E Phillips Oppenheim, and Sax Rohmer.'

And perhaps not just in Fleming's childhood. The Spy Paramount is packed with Bondian moments. Having ostensibly offered his services to Italy, Fawley drives in his powerful Lancia into the Alps on the French/Italian border in search of a secret mountain base that houses a superweapon. He succeeds, but not without being discovered and shooting his way out. He returns to his hotel and nonchalantly orders café complet. Later, he plays golf with a scheming German politician in a chapter that gives Fleming's account of Bond's game of golf with Goldfinger a run for its money.

The book contains descriptions of food and drink that wouldn't be out of place in a Bond novel: 'The cocktails tasted good, as indeed they were, for granted the right material, the American touch on the shaker is after all the most subtle in the world.' Or, as Fawley's brother says: 'French champagne tastes all wrong in Italy, and though food is good enough for a time, it's monotonous.' At one point, Fawley consumes rounds of caviar sandwiches, just as Bond does in Goldfinger.

We also have a physical description of Fawley: visionary eyes, an air of immense self-control, a firm mouth, and a little wave in his hair brushed back by the ears. Not so different from Bond's calm grey-blue eyes with a hint of ironical inquiry, thick comma of hair above his right eyebrow, and cruel mouth.

Much of the story is set in the luxury hotels, clubs and casinos of Monte Carlo (as are a number of Oppenheim's spy novels), and though Fawley doesn't visit the gaming tables himself during his mission, the scene is familiar to readers of the Bond novels.

In another of Oppenheim's spy novels, The Spymaster (1938), it's the hero's attitude towards female agents that's familiar to Bond's readers. Admiral Guy Cheshire, head of British naval intelligence, responds to the opinion of his counterpart in the army, General Mallinson, that in espionage work, 'women... are the biggest nuisance,' with the view that 'they are in the way, of course.' He and James Bond would get on well: Bond also thinks that 'on a job, [women] got in the way.' 

At another point of the novel, Cheshire plays bridge in his club and demonstrates his skill with the cards, both impressing and irritating his fellow players with his winning form and ability to shuffle the pack to his advantage; Cheshire performs these tricks for amusement, so he avoids the accusation of cheating. Bond's abilities with the cards, as demonstrated during a game of bridge at Blades, is no less impressive, but even so, Bond might find Cheshire a tricky opponent at the card table.

Actually, given Guy Cheshire's position as head of naval intelligence, membership of a London club, and, as we learn in the novel, access to the highest political level (he has the ear, for instance, of the Prime Minister), he is more M than Bond. If M were to feature in his own novel – and it's about time – the book might look something like The Spymaster.

Fleming's Bond novels and Oppenheim's thrillers have much in common. It is going too far to claim that Fleming based Bond on any aspects of Oppenheim's work specifically, but the influence is clear, and it is fair to say that Bond emerged out of the literary tradition represented by the novels of Oppenheim, Phyllis Bottome and others. Indeed, Bond could not have existed without them. But while it's easy enough to spot the similarities, there are lots of differences too. The Spy Paramount, The Spymaster and others could not be mistaken for Bond books. After all, the Bond books reflect other influences, such as American detective fiction, the Second World War, the Cold War, and Fleming's own experiences.

The result is that while the Bond books express some of the traits and memes of the earlier literary tradition, they have diverged from it too - and are different enough, as we know, to have created their own tradition and become influential in turn.

Returning to E Phillips Oppenheim, his novels are fast-paced, exciting thrillers, and it's no surprise Ian Fleming enjoyed them. Oppenheim's detective story, The Black Box (coincidentally (almost) the title of the latest James Bond comic book), is somewhat corny, with a story involving mad professors, ape-men, and stupid policemen, but his spy novels are superb, being full of intrigue, action, and, unsurprising given the context in which they were written, growing foreboding of war.

Did Phyllis Bottome invent James Bond? The case against

The Lifeline, first edition

Ian Fleming's first adventure story was 'A Poor Man Escapes', which was written in 1927 while studying under Ernan Forbes Dennis and the novelist Phyllis Bottome at their 'finishing school' at the Tannerhof in Austria. There is no doubt that Phyllis Bottome encouraged the young Fleming to write the story, and it is quite possible that her influence extended to Fleming's later writing too. Just how influential she had been was the subject of a Radio 4 documentary. Critical, according to some, who argued that Bottome's 1946 novel, The Lifeline, was a James Bond novel in all but name.

The case that Ian Fleming had substantially based James Bond on the main character and events of Bottome's novel was championed by espionage writer Nigel West. He has form in the matter, having made the case in his 2009 book, Historical Dictionary of Ian Fleming's World of Espionage. West was supported by critic and publisher Simon Winder, who's own book on James Bond, The Man who Saved Britain (2006), far from being a celebration of Fleming's creation, was an exercise in subtle denigration and damning with faint praise.

Casting a more cautious eye on the matter were Pam Hirsch, who wrote a biography of Phyllis Bottome called The Constant Liberal, and John Pearson, the biographer of both Ian Fleming and James Bond. 

So what were the principal arguments? The case for the prosecution, as it were, focused on two key points. The first was that the protagonist of The Lifeline, Mark Chalmers, is near-identical to James Bond. Describe Chalmers' appearance (slim, six-feet tall), attitudes (particularly towards women), philosophy, and pastimes (skiing, climbing) without mentioning his name, and anyone listening would think you were describing James Bond.

The second point concerned the events at the end of Bottome's novel. Chalmers, who has been on a secret mission in Austria gathering Nazi secrets for British intelligence on the eve of the Second World War, is captured by the Gestapo, given a severe beating, saved in the nick of time, recuperates in a hospital (actually a mental asylum where Chalmers has been resident as part of his cover), falls in love with a fellow agent (Ida Eichhorn) who has been caring for him and whom he initially disliked, and has a bedside discussion about his purpose and the nature of good and evil with a local contact (Father Martin).

Compare that to the end of Casino Royale, in which Bond is captured by a SMERSH agent, given a severe beating, saved in the nick of time, recuperates in a hospital, falls in love with a fellow agent (Vesper Lynd) who has been caring for him and whom he initially disliked, and has a bedside discussion about his purpose and the nature of good and evil with a local contact (René Mathis).

Of the two arguments, the second is strongest, yet even that only suggests that Fleming was inspired by one specific element of Bottome's book (apparently Bottome sent Fleming all her books, and it is highly likely that he had read The Lifeline before writing Casino Royale). Claiming that Bottome had invented James Bond and that, as was hinted at in the programme, a case of plagiarism could be made against Fleming, is rather more of a leap, and to me is without foundation.  

Other points raised by Nigel West are minor and easily dismissed. The spy chief in The Lifeline is called B; Ian Fleming called his M. And Somerset Maugham's spy chief is R and the real one is C. Isn't it more plausible that the naming of M simply follows a convention well established in spy fiction (and reality), rather than the style of a single book? West also suggests that, like Mark Chalmers, Bond can climb like a mountain goat. In the films maybe, but evidence for this in the books, certainly Casino Royale, is lacking.

One obvious difficulty, apart from the fact that Ian Fleming first had the idea for 'the spy story to end all spy stories' during the war and before The Lifeline was published, is that The Lifeline and Casino Royale simply do not compare stylistically. Having read The Lifeline, I can confirm that it reads more like a John Buchan novel than a Fleming novel. It contains long philosophical passages and monologues, and has none of the pace and spare prose of Casino Royale. If Ian Fleming used The Lifeline as a model, then he failed miserably to follow it.

Another problem is that the events depicted in Casino Royale, except those at the end, do not mirror the events of The Lifeline whatsoever. In fact, James Bond would not feature in an Alpine-set adventure until On Her Majesty's Secret Service, published 10 years after Casino Royale. And Fleming's only story set in Austria, 'Octopussy', has Bond in a peripheral role – in Jamaica.

True, the character of Mark Chalmers is similar to Bond, but then again, so too is Ian Fleming; there is no dispute that Fleming gave Bond many of his own traits. It is worth pointing out as well (not mentioned in the documentary) that Ian Fleming acknowledged that the events of Casino Royale were based on his own experiences in the casino of Estoril in Portugal. Nigel West makes the supplementary case that Mark Chalmers was based on Ian Fleming, but this has the whiff of a circular argument. James Bond was inspired by Mark Chalmers who was inspired by Ian Fleming who provided the inspiration for James Bond. Why have a middle man at all? It seems to me that there is little need to invoke Mark Chalmers as the catalyst for James Bond when Ian Fleming's own life accounts for many of the details.

Something else that the programme didn't mention was that Ian Fleming was a literary magpie. He read widely, was in awe of certain writers (among them Raymond Chandler and Somerset Maugham), wrote fulsome reviews and bought copies of his favourite books for all his friends. Inevitably, aspects of the books he enjoyed crept into his own work. Indeed, this blog is about the things that inspired Fleming, and identifies the ideas or memes that the Bond novels share with the works of one novelist or another. Most recently, for example, I pointed out similarities between John Buchan's novel, The Three Hostages, and Moonraker, and I have made the case that the Bond novels are a British form of American hard-boiled thriller. This doesn't mean, however, that John Buchan or Raymond Chandler invented James Bond.

James Bond could not have been created unless The Lifeline and other books like it had not existed, just as the work of John le Carré and Len Deighton – the antitheses of Bond – could not have existed without Bond. Culture is created by taking or passing on, building on, and transforming ideas that already exist in the cultural environment. It lives or dies by being replicated (in the case of Bond books by being read and reprinted), exploiting a cultural niche (no one wrote quite the sort of books that Fleming wrote and the public was ready for it), and adapting to changing conditions (being made into Bond films).

So, did Phyllis Bottome invent James Bond? Not in my view, although I accept that Fleming recreated the ending of The Lifeline in Casino Royale. On balance, I'm with Pam Hirsch when she says that Bottome invented Ian Fleming as a writer. Still, I enjoyed the programme, and the fact that such a debate is the subject of a BBC documentary is testament to the continued success and cultural relevance of Ian Fleming's creation.