Oftentimes, we hear the phrase “the book was better than the movie,” and oftentimes that is true. Well, true to a certain degree; relying upon the way in which we as viewers allow the two mediums, film and literature, to come into being. Film and literature are two entirely different things; two separate appendages in which stories are contrived, tales woven, imaginations expressed. It is important to understand that film and literature are different. They are. Film is the eyes and literature is the heart.They are not one-and-the-same, though they serve the same purpose. They are not the same apparatus, though serve the same master.

Expectations of a film to replicate a book to a “T” will more often than not leave you with the impression of disappointment. There have also been times (few and far between) where the book disappointed where the film had not. I watched a film (E.T.) that was later turned into a novel ("E.T.: The Book of the Green Planet") and thought to myself, “eh, the movie was better.”

The question isn’t entirely about the direct translation of a story we’ve become familiar with, or the lack of translation; the fact is that when telling a story using the mediums of either film or literature there are tactics in which the author/ auteur use to display certain qualities.

This being said, the use of tactics in order to portray pivotal aspects of women in the John Le Carre novel “The Spy Who Came In From The Cold” are drastically different from the female appearances in the sexy, suave James Bond action flick “Goldfinger.”

“Liz Gold, a woman in her early twenties, naïve, idealistic and a member of the Communist Party. Liz is working in a London library when she meets Leamas and becomes his lover. Tall, awkward, intelligent and serious, Liz believes passionately in the future of world communism. She is warm and loving toward Leamas, and she remains ignorant of the true nature of his work until she becomes an unwitting participant in the espionage plot.”

Liz Gold, described above according to Frank Magill, plays a large and important role in the Le Carre novel “The Spy Who Came in From The Cold.” She becomes Leamas’ lover and ends up as the key piece of the end trial. She ends up saving Leamas multiple times, once when Leamas is sick and at the end when she gets him out of the trial. Although Both Liz and Leamas die at the end, Liz is indispensable to Leamas’ survival throughout the book. Thing is however, there’s nothing sexy about Liz...there’s really nothing sexy about Le Carre’s spy world he’s created in the novel. Liz is never described in depth as some female characters would be. We get no solid representation of her other than some of her thoughts on the Communist party, and that she’s a clerk working at a pretty dull library. Liz’s circumstances encapsulate the physical appearance she has. Her function in the novel is what leads to a more visceral understanding of her character.

Then we have Pussy Galore. I mean, the name itself is enough to describe her role in a nutshell. But that’s not quite the main issue. The fact that the “Bond girl” in “Goldfinger” is called “Pussy Galore” becomes a harbinger of sorts. Had Galore been portrayed on screen as we imagined Liz Gold in the novel, however, could perhaps have erected feelings of situational irony to viewers.

Alas, Pussy Galore is a the bombshell blonde we expect, who is portrayed as a strong independent woman, though not strong enough to ward off Bond’s unquenchable charm, so it seems. She’s a woman who has everything under control including her emotions and motifs. Galore, like Liz, is indeed responsible for saving Bond’s life more than once, however. Bond and Galore also become lovers while on the job.

There are interesting parallels between Liz and Pussy. They do similar things within their individual stories. They are both undercover in their own ways, Pussy Galore not actually working for Goldfinger, Liz Gold not really on the side of communism by saving Leamas at the end.

Now here’s another way they differ. Pussy Galore decides to save Bond after he’s sort of,well, forcefully seduced her. This somehow suggests that Bond has some magical love making abilities that can make even the strongest, most level-headed woman see his side. Pussy Galore is obviously overly sexualized in the 1964 film. Pussy ( like all the women in the film) are eye candy, so to speak. It’s obvious the medium of film uses visual stimulation of sexuality and beauty in order to extrapolate interest and appeal in ways that literature has a difficult time achieving.

The differences in the way the two women are presented have real impacts on the stories in which they are portrayed. While Liz Gold is shown as an intelligent woman, she does not have the sex appeal for a honey pot or the cunning of a hardened spy to have any intentional influence or insight into Leamas’ purpose. Her one true asset is the love she’s got for Leamas. It is a true and pure love, something that shines a small ray of hope in the bleak world of the novel. Her ability to be truthful and feel are genuinely pivotal to Leamas’ life and the over arching story thus aiding her visceral function within the story.

Pussy Galore, on the other hand, has everything under control, really. She gives off the air of a smart, sexy, confident woman who knows exactly what she wants out of her life. She’s almost as mysterious as James Bond; making for a formidable counterpart. Her looks are enough to woo any man into love and lust, and she sure knows it. Pussy Galore in no way has the same love and caring for Bond that Liz has for Leamas. Their attraction seems to stem solely from Bond’s magical sexual prowess and amazing good looks, all of which salaciously exemplified by the constant danger and primal urge heightened in the balance of life and death; thus displaying the visual impacts and influences the medium of film use to augment the female character in this spy flick.