It is unlikely that, back in 1953 when Ian Fleming wrote “Casino Royale,” the first James Bond novel, that he, his publishers, or his readers could have anticipated the position into which he would blossom more than a half-century later. The first printing of that landmark volume was fewer than 5,000 copies — about the same as a guidebook to the edible fungi of Nova Scotia.

In America, his sales languished until President Kennedy publicly lavished praise on Fleming’s heroic, if improbable hero. The first film, “Dr. No,” starring the charismatic Sean Connery and the luscious Ursula Andress, was released in 1963, after which it was Katy-bar-thedoor.

Sales of the books skyrocketed and the films became the single most successful movie franchise in history. For most of us who grew up reading the books and watching the movies, these adventures seemed about as good as it gets for fantasy and escapism. The slogan that “Bond is who every man wants to be and every woman wants to be with” may end in a preposition, but is no less true for its grammatical shortcoming.

Fleming wrote 14 books about Bond, John Gardner wrote 16 more, followed by an additional nine by Raymond Benson. Kingsley Amis wrote one (“Colonel Sun,” under the pseudonym Robert Markham) and there were scores of parodies and a few pastiches by others. There is precedent for this sincerest form of flattery, most notably with Sherlock Holmes, who has appeared in serious and comedic stories and novels now numbering more than a thousand. Also like Holmes, Bond has been the subject of numerous volumes of analysis, both literary and philosophical, with a recent tidal wave of books that, together, dissect and microscopically investigate every facet of a character who seems, superficially, to require very little examination. One of the most interesting is “The Man Who Saved Britain” (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 288 pages, $25) by Simon Winder, who has invested in Bond (and Fleming) an entirely political raison d’être. As the author more than once invokes his “little Red commissar,” it should not come as a blinding shock that he approves of Fleming not at all and, after early years of obsessive fandom, Bond almost as little.

Mr. Winder, the publishing director of Penguin Books (UK), holds Bond up as the embodiment of all that is wrong with British culture: Imperialism (though most of the empire was relinquished bloodlessly), racism (which, if it exists, is generally no more toxic than verbal manifestation, unlike that in, say, Iraq, where tribes slaughter on the basis of ethnicity, not to mention Darfur, Ethiopia, and Rwanda).

The tone of “The Man Who Saved Britain” is often sarcastic, beginning with its title. The conceit is that because Britain had been reduced to a powerless, impoverished, hopeless little island after World War II, it needed a hero to restore its pride, and that Fleming produced him at just the right moment. Whatever literary failings the books might have had, Bond provided a vicarious sense of confidence and excellence for a needy population.

Naturally, there is no reference to the enormous popularity of the books and films in America, a country in the 1950s and ’60s that lacked neither confidence nor power. Or, for that matter, the affection for Bond throughout most of the world where the books and movies have been available.

Mr. Winder loathes some Bond movies so thoroughly that he presents himself as nauseated and embarrassed to have liked them as a youngster. One has to wonder, with so much disgust of the work, the author, and the character, why he chose to write this book.

“The Science of James Bond” (Wiley, 212 pages, $14.95) by Lois H. Gresh and Robert Weinberg is far less portentous but more fun, especially if you think that a highlight of a Bond movie (well, after the Bond girls, it’s understood) is the moment when Q shows Bond a new set of gadgets.

There are surprises in learning how many apparently outré devices that seemed to be pure science fiction had already been developed (cameras small enough to function in a cigarette case or necktie; a lipstick gun and cigarette case gun, each with a single bullet; a wristwatch microphone, a rectal kit with escape tools), as well as disappointments in the impossible (steel sliding doors on a car can’t be thick enough to be bulletproof or else they would be so heavy the car would zip along like a Zamboni).

The sprightly tone is consistent with the Bond films yet has a solid foundation in science, as does “Death Rays, Jet Packs, Stunts & Supercards” (Johns Hopkins, 231 pages, $25) by Barry Parker, which covers much of the same material in an equally user-friendly manner (if physics can ever be userfriendly).

“James Bond in the 21st Century” (Benbella Books, 197 pages, $17.95), edited by Glenn Yeffeth, poses the question of whether 007 is still relevant in today’s world, and answers it with the sub-title: “Why We Still Need 007.”

A comprehensive overview of the hero is provided in this collection of essays, covering such topics as “Can the Cinematic Bond Ever Be the Literary Bond?” by Raymond Benson, “The Sexual Subtext of 007” by John Cox, and “So You Want to Be an Evil Genius” by David Morefield.

If you don’t think we need James Bond now, perhaps more than ever, then you probably don’t think there are villains who wish harm to the West or, if they do exist, that we are powerless to stop them. Bond, without spilling his martini or rumpling his dinner jacket, will bravely, if politically incorrectly, save you.

Mr. Penzler is the proprietor of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan and the series editor of the annual “Best American Mystery Stories.” He can be reached at ottopenzler@mysteriousbookshop.com.