
I've always thought of Bond as a '60s phenomenon but of Fleming as a '50s writer. A quick check shows that he died in 1963, the same year that Gavin Lyall turned to full-time writing. Lyall was my favourite of the postwar adventure writers, though Alistair Maclean was probably the best-known.
It may have been Maclean who first led me to think about the 'third acts' of creative careers. Some people seem to do their best work as their experience accumulates; others, their worst as their energy and interest diminishes.
I'd even be willing to believe that anything with Maclean's name on it from The Golden Gate onwards might be of dubious origin. It was sent to me as a book club selection and I remember wondering at the complete disappearance of the author's familiar style and personality. Hard to describe it, but everyone's writing has a texture and Maclean's was no longer there.
Seawitch and Athabasca were even worse - The Golden Gate at least had a functioning story but I remember thinking of Seawitch that almost nothing actually happened plotwise, and that its male protagonist team was a lazy lift of Starsky and Hutch. I left the book club shortly after, and not much more than a decade after that they stopped trying to entice me back.
The inability to portray a world with credible women is, for me, the one major flaw that dates most of the post-WWII school-of-Buchan writers that I loved so much; mostly the women were either resistible bitches or idealised girl-figures, free-spirited but compliant, accessories to the hero's manliness ("Let the girl go!"), and his eventual reward. Invariably the resistible bitches would melt, their inner girl-figures released by exposure to that same manly influence.

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Film directors especially fall in to that category. Take John Carpenter - he made some excellent science fiction and horror in the 70s and 80s, yet seems to have forgotten how to make anything like decent films now. Even David Lean whose birth centenary is this year and who is always quoted as one of the greatest directors ever, flagged (in my opinion) toward the latter part of his career.
On the other hand, Michael Powell's last proper film was among his best - Age of Conent. Powell caught every nuance of Norman Lindsay's original.
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