This one did not age well. Not at all, but without the timelessness of “Huckleberry Finn.” Just try and remember that this was written by a cisgender hetero white guy in 1954 who I’m pretty sure never visited Harlem.

Regardless, it’s a rushed spy novel. You know James Bond already. You’re thrust into a fast-paced story. Don’t expect a deep story. The sentence structure is not at all varied. But, it’s a fun little adventure, despite being a product of its time.