On 31 May 1961 Ian Fleming wrote to Michael Howard at Jonathan Cape, publisher of his James Bond novels: ‘I am now sending you the first two “volumes” of Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang. Heaven knows what your children’s book readers will think of them.’ He ended his letter: ‘I am gradually reactivating myself and I hope to be up in London for about two days each week. Though much will depend on a gigantic medical conference this afternoon.’
Six weeks earlier, Fleming had suffered a serious heart attack. He was 52. Despatched to convalesce at a seaside hotel on the south coast and forbidden a typewriter to prevent him from working, he passed the time writing out in longhand the story for his eight-year-old son, Caspar.
Michael Howard replied: ‘Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang’s adventures have me enthralled. She is truly an invention of genius, and I trust you can reel off at least ten more episodes with no trouble at all.’
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