There are various ways of relaxing (and indeed, thinking), and one of these is by reading a book, or even a series of books. I follow my mood when I look for something that is stimulating but not too taxing: for example, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or some of Chaucer’s Tales. But recently, I have re-read, with pleasure, the seven full-length novels of Raymond Chandler that feature his private detective Philip Marlowe: The Big Sleep (1939), Farewell, My Lovely (1940), The High Window (1943), The Lady in The Lake (1944) [my second favourite], The Little Sister (1949), The Long Goodbye (1953) [my favourite], and Playback (1958).
Much has already been written about these detective novels, and I do not wish to repeat all the typical comments, but I shall make a few points of my own here.
Marlowe himself is quixotic. He is tenacious, to the point of stubbornness. He goes far beyond the call of duty, at times. He is susceptible to the charms of women:
She was slim and quite tall in a white linen tailor-made with a black and white polka-dotted scarf around her throat. Her hair was the pale gold of a fairy princess. There was a small hat on it into which the pale gold hair nestled like a bird in its nest. Her eyes were cornflour blue, and the lashes were long and almost too pale…..She was unclassifiable, as remote and clear as mountain water, as elusive as its colour.
The Long Goodbye, Chapter 13
Marlowe should have been killed or maimed on numerous occasions, in the course of his work as a private detective:
You don’t get rich, you don’t often have fun. Sometimes you get beaten up or shot at or tossed in the jailhouse. Once in a long while you get dead.
The Long Goodbye, Chapter 21
But somehow he always survives his ordeals.
While Marlowe prides himself on his respect for his employers’ privacy and the principle of confidentiality, it is doubtful whether he should withhold evidence from the Police when there has been a murder. One of the recurring themes of the novels is the rough, hard attitude that many police officers display towards Marlowe. Some officers are undoubtedly corrupt. (An excuse given is that they are badly paid and poorly led.) Marlowe’s own approach is to assess officers on a case by case basis, and to co-operate with those that show him some consideration.
The novels feature a great number of female murderers – at a higher ratio to men than in real life.
Marlowe relies a lot on his intuition rather than the hard evidence he has uncovered; and it generally turns out that his mind takes him in the right direction.
Chandler vividly depicts mid-20th century Southern California: the countryside, the ocean, city streets, offices, hotels, private houses and apartment houses, bars, cars, and above all people (honest and dishonest) – their features, their clothes, and their moods:
He had a sweat-stained Stetson on the back of his head and his large hairless hands were clasped comfortably over his stomach, above the waistband of a pair of khaki pants that had been scrubbed thin years ago. His shirt matched the pants except that it was even more faded. It was buttoned tight to the man’s thick neck and undecorated by a tie. His hair was mousy brown except at the temples, where it was the colour of old snow….The star on his left breast had a bent point.
He had large ears and friendly eyes and his jaws munched slowly and he looked as dangerous as a squirrel and much less nervous. I liked everything about him.
The Lady in the Lake, Chapter 7
The first person narrative works well, as does the snappy dialogue between characters. The narrator does share much information – and his own thinking – with the reader, but sometimes the reasons for his next move (led by his intuition) are left out, until an explanation appears later.
Chandler’s plots are complicated. However, one can perceive a pattern, common to most of the books. Marlowe is offered two assignments, in fairly quick succession. The two tasks do not appear to be related, at first, but it turns out that they are. Frequently, one task is set by an employer, and has strictly defined limits, while the other one is chosen by Marlowe on his own initiative, without a clear prospect of payment. Marlowe is led by his own curiosity to fill in the blank parts of the big picture.
For example, the early focus of The High Window (1943) is on the retrieval of a rare coin, stolen from a family’s collection. Marlowe spends much time searching for it and the reason for the theft (while, as usual, discovering dead bodies on the way). But the emphasis shifts towards the unhealthy relationship between his domineering female employer and her submissive secretary. He is chivalrous towards the young woman and starts to help her. When he consults his friend Dr Carl Moss about her, the doctor calls him, in an Arthurian reference, a “shop-soiled Galahad” [Chapter 28].
Now, detective stories are about good and evil, plot and resolution, mystery and revelation, and the pursuit of justice (and sometimes the pursuit of revenge). They address, in varying degrees, the ultimate challenge to human identity – death:
What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same to you as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of that nastiness now.
The Big Sleep, Chapter 32
In Chandler’s Marlowe stories, the detective is both a “Galahad” and “shop-soiled”. He fears that, in the course of his investigations, he himself becomes contaminated by his continual association with violent death. He is imperfect, but he tries to live a good life, even if not an exemplary one. He is not complacent but self-critical. He is human.
The Marlowe novels have breadth (albeit with a tilt towards the seamy side of life) and depth. Insofar as they depict a particular time and place and constants of human behaviour, they have universal value. They are great literature – a delight to read and re-read. To the best of my knowledge, they have never been out of print.
davidronaldharries 