WHEN a writer's books are taken over by others posthumously, characterisation can prove a problem for the new scribe. Either they risk the wrath of fans by changing much-loved figures, or become mired in cliche as they strain to stay close to original blueprints.

Boyd is the fourth writer to take on Ian Fleming's iconic Bond since his death (the others are Kingsley Amis, Sebastian Faulks and Jeffery Deaver), and at first seems to have fallen into the latter trap.

As soon as the first chapter begins, a series of tableaux show off Bond's trademark character traits: a lustful encounter with a blonde in a lift, dining at the Dorchester, test driving a car through Sixties Chelsea.

M, Q and Moneypenny are present and predictable; there's a delightfully evil line-up of villains straight out of central casting - including a Rhodesian mercenary with terrible facial deformities - and the usual cluster of beauties for Bond to ogle and then, of course, bed.

And yet, there are hints at another, deeper man with flashbacks to a military past and moments of guilt and empathy, even with his conquests. And, despite the cliches - which, let's face it, are part of Bond's charm - I enjoyed the read.

Boyd's own background - born and brought up in Africa - allows him to paint a convincing picture of the fictional West African country of Zanzarim.

Posing as a journalist for a French agency, Bond joins other foreign press behind enemy lines to try and bring an end to a bitter civil war.

With more than a sniff of Evelyn Waugh's Scoop about proceedings (perhaps unsurprisingly, given that Boyd's considerable output has included a screenplay of that book), events escalate, leaving Bond with a score to settle that will take him around the world and on his first rogue mission - going 'solo'.

Much like the character, one imagines that the literati's relations with Solo will be short lived, but for those just looking for an enjoyable romp, it's a handsome prospect.

Rating: 7/10
Review: Sarah Warwick