Trigger Mortis is a pitch-perfect Bond. Possibly the closest to Fleming’s Bond in any of the Bond stories I’ve read. Once I got past the seemingly-daft title (which does make sense as played out in the story), we get to a cracking tale of classic Bond adventure. Trigger Mortis follows immediately on the heels of Goldfinger, with Bond and Pussy Galore back in London. It’s not long before Bond is off on another mission, this time to race the Nürburgring and foil an assassination attempt against a British driver. But not all is as it seems, and soon Bond is embroiled in a bigger tale, one which threatens New York.
Horowitz’s Bond is superbly authentic, with a real feel for the character as written by Fleming. There are a couple of places in the book which, plot-wise, feel like slight mis-steps, but the action is such that they’re soon forgotten.
Very confidently written, and I hope Mr Horowitz has the chance to dabble in 007’s world again soon.
3 thoughts on “Trigger Mortis, by Anthony Horowitz”