After reviewing nearly 1550 books over the last 14 years, most of which are thrillers and murder mysteries, I thought it might be fun to read one of the original authors in this genre, The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. It was published in 1939, and movies of the same title were made in 1946 (screenplay by William Faulkner, starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Becall), and 1978 (starring Robert Mitchum, Sarah Miles, and Richard Boone). Chandler’s private detective was Phillip Marlowe, and there was also a television series about Marlowe that ran for two seasons in 1983 and 1986 (of which I have no recall).
As is typical of so many modern day sleuths, Marlowe was a flawed character who drank to excess, but who was honest and capable of solving complex crimes. The story is based in L.A. and portrays a dark side of life in the 1930s which is rife with violence and dishonesty. On the one hand, this was not good literature and there were problems with the plot as the characters jumped from one scene to another. There were too many coincidences for the plot to be taken seriously. Chandler wrote nearly nonstop similes that were supposed to represent the tough language of the way his bad guys talked to each other, and thought to themselves. Really, the characters were impossible to be believed. His mistreatment of minorities and gays would not be tolerated in the current world of publishing. On the other hand, there was still a charming quality to the book that I enjoyed. However, I’m not tempted to read any more of the seven book series that Chandler wrote. There is no denying that he was one of the early masters of this genre.
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