Bibliographic record
Abstract
In 1981, I discovered the joys of James Bond. I was shy teenager, on a date to see For Your Eyes Only, with a dashing blond I would later marry. We loved the film so much that we methodically went through every Bond film yet made, VCRs having just become affordable. I then, just as methodically, read every Bond book, a budding feminist with a love-hate relationship with misogynist thriller writer Ian Fleming. If you've never read a Bond book, I'd invite you to pick one up. Fleming was a keen observer of both physical details and the human condition, and if his characters hadn't been made into such icons of pop culture, my opinion is that he'd be critically more revered. Like Dorothy Parker or F. Scott Fitzgerald, he has an efficiency of words, and his heroes/antiheroes are similarly exaggerated. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] On a personal note, as a teen, I'd never gone farther from my hometown of Glens Falls than to Rutland, Vermont. In Fleming's books, I could live the good life, explore Istanbul or Paris, play 21 in noisy casinos, dive in the warm salt water of the Caribbean, eat fabulous soft-shell crabs swimming in butter, and solve mysteries with my trusty Walther PPK. It was at odds with my Catholic schoolgirl upbringing, but I devoured the adventures, and then it happened: I read The Who Loved Me. If you know the movie with this title, you know nothing about the book. The book is the only attempt Fleming made to write from a female point of view, and he was so unsuccessful that Fleming not only never tried this approach again, he refused to allow the book to come out in paperback. Although Fleming was well known as a roue, he must have been a terrible liar, for his introduction comes off as so much nonsense. He claims he found a manuscript on his desk, which he was glad to publish for the woman who left it there, a woman who had had an affair with Bond. Even at 16, I could see through that, but picked it up anyway. As usual, I was delighted to be taken away--to London, to Montreal, to Lake George. Lake George? Ian Fleming famously wrote about places he had actually been. My antihero had been to Lake George? How much time Fleming spent here I have not been able to ascertain, but clearly, he was here. He sets The Who Loved Me somewhere between Glens Falls and Lake George, in the Dreamy Pines Motor Court, where our heroine tries to hold off but is unable to escape the thugs until James Bond shows up. The Spy is Bond himself, not a Russian woman Bond gets mixed up with, as in the movie. Fleming tried to write as though he were a young woman writing, just after having her heart broken, and speaking as someone in first when I read it, he did a surprisingly good job. The giddiness, self-absorption, and myopic good spirits of early romance are uncomfortably familiar, and everything is portentous: Before I met Kurt, I was a bird with one wing down. Now I had been shot in the other (her take on her failed affair) (Fleming 2003, 53). Yes, this was a man to love (an hour or so after meeting Bond) (149). However, she's neither the glamorous girl in a casino nor an ingenue on an island; she's middle class. Hers is the Lake George of the tour boats (harmless steamers that ply up to Fort Ticonderoga and back (62)) and of Storytown (a terrifying babyland nightmare which I need not describe (63)), not of Millionaires' Row. Fleming was known for his vivid description and offers a better look at Lake George than my own diary entries in 1981. The Adirondacks are described in their wonder as Viv takes her Vespa down Route 9 from Montreal: there was hardly an old fort, museum, waterfall, cave or high mountain that I didn't visit ... I just went on a kind of sightseeing splurge that was part genuine curiosity but mostly wanting to put off the day when I would have to leave these lakes and rivers and forests and hurry on to the harsh Eldollarado of the superhighways, the hot dog stands, and the ribboning lights of neon (62). …
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How this classification was reachedexpand
Full frame machine prediction
Teacher imitationNot calibrated prevalence, not ground truth. Human validation pending. The Gemma side is a direct model label for every work in the frame, read from the title-only record. The Codex side is a classifier learned from the 10,348 direct Codex labels and calibrated to design-weighted sample rates; fields without enough sample support carry no Codex call. Candidate is the union of the two sides; consensus is their intersection. These outputs are machine_predicted_unvalidated and are not human labels.
Distilled classifier scores by category (both heads)
| Category | Codex | Gemma |
|---|---|---|
| Metaresearch | 0.001 | 0.004 |
| Meta-epidemiology (narrow) | 0.001 | 0.000 |
| Meta-epidemiology (broad) | 0.001 | 0.000 |
| Bibliometrics | 0.001 | 0.001 |
| Science and technology studies | 0.015 | 0.003 |
| Scholarly communication | 0.006 | 0.004 |
| Open science | 0.001 | 0.006 |
| Research integrity | 0.002 | 0.008 |
| Insufficient payload (model declined to judge) | 0.142 | 0.072 |
Machine scores (provisional)
The two teacher heads of the student model, read on this work. A score orders the frame for review; it never asserts a category, and the validation status ships verbatim with every row.
Baseline scores from an immature model (maturity gate not passed, 7 training rounds). Scores rank; they never assert a category.
score_only:v0-immature-baseline · verbatim from the scoring run: score_only means the number may rank works, and no category label ships from itClassification
machine, unvalidatedMachine predicted; a candidate call from one source (direct Gemma or distilled Codex), not a consensus.
How this classification was reached, model by model and score by score, is at the end of the page under "How this classification was reached".