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Philip Marlowe #1-2
The Big Sleep & Farewell, My Lovely
For wise-cracking Private Eye Philip Marlowe, murder is all in a day's work...
There are no streets meaner than those of L.A.'s underworld - but luckily one detective has more than his fair share of street smarts. Here, in the first two novels featuring the immortal creation Philip Marlowe, we see the cynical sleuth taking on a nasty case of blackmail involving a Californian millionaire and his two devil-may-care daughters; then dealing with a missing nightclub crooner (plus several gangsters with a habit of shooting first and talking later).
There are no streets meaner than those of L.A.'s underworld - but luckily one detective has more than his fair share of street smarts. Here, in the first two novels featuring the immortal creation Philip Marlowe, we see the cynical sleuth taking on a nasty case of blackmail involving a Californian millionaire and his two devil-may-care daughters; then dealing with a missing nightclub crooner (plus several gangsters with a habit of shooting first and talking later).
512 pages, Paperback
Published October 5, 2023
76 people are currently reading
607 people want to read
About the author
Raymond Chandler
449 books5,604 followersRaymond Thornton Chandler was an American-British novelist and screenwriter. In 1932, at the age of forty-four, Chandler became a detective fiction writer after losing his job as an oil company executive during the Great Depression. His first short story, "Blackmailers Don't Shoot", was published in 1933 in Black Mask, a popular pulp magazine. His first novel, The Big Sleep, was published in 1939. In addition to his short stories, Chandler published seven novels during his lifetime (an eighth, in progress at the time of his death, was completed by Robert B. Parker). All but Playback have been made into motion pictures, some more than once. In the year before his death, he was elected president of the Mystery Writers of America.
Chandler had an immense stylistic influence on American popular literature. He is a founder of the hardboiled school of detective fiction, along with Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain and other Black Mask writers. The protagonist of his novels, Philip Marlowe, like Hammett's Sam Spade, is considered by some to be synonymous with "private detective". Both were played in films by Humphrey Bogart, whom many consider to be the quintessential Marlowe.
The Big Sleep placed second on the Crime Writers Association poll of the 100 best crime novels; Farewell, My Lovely (1940), The Lady in the Lake (1943) and The Long Goodbye (1953) also made the list. The latter novel was praised in an anthology of American crime stories as "arguably the first book since Hammett's The Glass Key, published more than twenty years earlier, to qualify as a serious and significant mainstream novel that just happened to possess elements of mystery". Chandler was also a perceptive critic of detective fiction; his "The Simple Art of Murder" is the canonical essay in the field. In it he wrote: "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."
Parker wrote that, with Marlowe, "Chandler seems to have created the culminating American hero: wised up, hopeful, thoughtful, adventurous, sentimental, cynical and rebellious—an innocent who knows better, a Romantic who is tough enough to sustain Romanticism in a world that has seen the eternal footman hold its coat and snicker. Living at the end of the Far West, where the American dream ran out of room, no hero has ever been more congruent with his landscape. Chandler had the right hero in the right place, and engaged him in the consideration of good and evil at precisely the time when our central certainty of good no longer held."
Chandler had an immense stylistic influence on American popular literature. He is a founder of the hardboiled school of detective fiction, along with Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain and other Black Mask writers. The protagonist of his novels, Philip Marlowe, like Hammett's Sam Spade, is considered by some to be synonymous with "private detective". Both were played in films by Humphrey Bogart, whom many consider to be the quintessential Marlowe.
The Big Sleep placed second on the Crime Writers Association poll of the 100 best crime novels; Farewell, My Lovely (1940), The Lady in the Lake (1943) and The Long Goodbye (1953) also made the list. The latter novel was praised in an anthology of American crime stories as "arguably the first book since Hammett's The Glass Key, published more than twenty years earlier, to qualify as a serious and significant mainstream novel that just happened to possess elements of mystery". Chandler was also a perceptive critic of detective fiction; his "The Simple Art of Murder" is the canonical essay in the field. In it he wrote: "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."
Parker wrote that, with Marlowe, "Chandler seems to have created the culminating American hero: wised up, hopeful, thoughtful, adventurous, sentimental, cynical and rebellious—an innocent who knows better, a Romantic who is tough enough to sustain Romanticism in a world that has seen the eternal footman hold its coat and snicker. Living at the end of the Far West, where the American dream ran out of room, no hero has ever been more congruent with his landscape. Chandler had the right hero in the right place, and engaged him in the consideration of good and evil at precisely the time when our central certainty of good no longer held."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 65 reviews
October 11, 2007
Raymond Chandler seems to be everywhere. His style, his language, his worldview have been recycled so many times they've almost turned into a cliche: cynical loner navigating a diverse and morally ambiguous modern landscape with nothing but his wits and a biting sense of humor. So it's a total revelation to actually read him and find just how fresh, funny, exciting, appealing and beautiful his writing is.
March 31, 2021
OK, I'm going to give this genre a break for awhile. But these two are worth the read. Chandler is a descriptive genius. Open these titles to any page and the similies and metaphors jump off the page. Philip Marlowe is one smart and tough cookie. He is relentless in his job as a PI. He does drink alot but he can hold his liquor quite well. And he is good at what he does. The people he deals with are pretty despicable and will fo just about anything to get away with whatever they are doing. Usually there is a crime involved...murder, pornography, balckmail, crooked cops. But through it all Marlowe perservers. The topics are adult in nature. Be prepared for uncomfortable conversations. But these are bad people who do and say bad things. Through it all Marlowe solves the case. It's not always a straight line to the end. And that's the joy of a mystery. You might know who is guilty but the trip to capture is worth it. Good stuff.
May 5, 2016
Review of The Big Sleep only
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… ~ Philip Marlowe
This is the first time I’ve read The Big Sleep or Raymond Chandler. The novel is the first in Chandler’s detective series about private detective Philip Marlowe. It is a hardboiled (that’s actually a genre…I didn’t know that), crime and/or detective novel, set in late 1930s Los Angeles.
My full review: http://100greatestnovelsofalltimeques...
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… ~ Philip Marlowe
This is the first time I’ve read The Big Sleep or Raymond Chandler. The novel is the first in Chandler’s detective series about private detective Philip Marlowe. It is a hardboiled (that’s actually a genre…I didn’t know that), crime and/or detective novel, set in late 1930s Los Angeles.
My full review: http://100greatestnovelsofalltimeques...
March 27, 2013
Farewell, My Lovely was Raymond Chandler’s second novel, following The Big Sleep, and I suppose I wouldn’t have read it this week, having read The Big Sleep last week, if it didn’t come in a two-novel edition issued by the Modern Library. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy The Big Sleep or Farewell, My Lovely, I just tend to let a writer cool off a bit before picking up his or her next book.
But in this case I didn’t do that. Here’s what I thought: Farewell, My Lovely sustains Chandler’s uncanny gift for physical descriptions, similes, quick, idiosyncratic dialogue, and ability to toss plot(s) up in the wind early in a novel and then weave some elements together while discarding others toward the end.
Here’s a sample of Chandler’s distinctive style:
“Outside the narrow street fumed, the sidewalks swarmed with fat stomachs. Across the street a bingo parlor was going full blast and beside it a couple of sailors with girls were coming out of a photographer’s shop where they had probably been having their photos taken riding on camels. The voice of the hot dog merchant split the dusk like an axe. A big blue bus blared down the street to the little circle where the street car used to turn on a turntable. I walked that way...”
One of my friends says writing like that is enough to keep him reading regardless of Chandler’s characters, themes, or plots. I don’t know if I’d go that far. I like the physical quality of the writing, the unnecessary bit about the sailors, their girlfriends and the camels, the characterization of the hot dog merchant’s voice, and the big blue bus, but I look for more in a novel, and there is more to Farewell, My Lovely.
The principal characters, led by Philip Marlowe, the detective, all get the Chandler treatment in two senses: what they look like (features, clothes, style of walking) and how they talk. They are vivid if tightly gathered around a thin slice of underworld life.
Then there is Marlowe’s crazy curiosity and emblematic sense of ethics: time and again he turns away or gives back money when he feels he hasn’t performed a job to his employer’s specifications. This is a quirk that distinguishes him from almost everyone else in the novel. Either they have tons of money and money isn’t an issue for them (Marlowe doesn’t have tons of money, far from it) or they will do anything to get it.
The paradox of Marlowe is the juxtaposition of his curiosity and his sense of ethics: he takes risks that, no, you wouldn’t take, and neither would I, in order to fulfill his verbal contracts with people who, in the end, prove to be “beneath” him.
This makes him predictably maddening and interesting, and probably makes the reader wish he or she also lived such an untethered life, able to act on any thought, travel here or there in an interesting city, drink at odd hours, recover quickly from being sapped, and able to consistently accept criticism and indulge in self-criticism. In Marlowe’s world, you often lose, but that’s in the nature of things. Shakespeare must have said something like that, and somewhere or other, Marlowe has learned enough Shakespeare to quote him from time to time.
Does it matter that many of Chandler’s vivid characters are fundamentally caricatures, lacking depth? Does it matter that the contortions of the plot, when they come unsprung, make glancing sense? It’s impossible not to say yes, it matters. But even bit players in Chandler possess an almost Chaucerian humanity, which is to say they are compelling moral portraits, conditioned by bad luck, bad friends, bad enemies, and the ravages of time. Even outside the narrative framework, these figures possess a certain alluring authenticity. Chandler’s artistry lies in constructing that authenticity with his quirky details, the snap in his dialogue, the sordid fragmentary back stories that have wrapped them up in the mysteries Philip Marlowe is determined to crack between drinks.
For more of my comments on contemporary and classic fiction, see Tuppence Reviews (Kindle).
But in this case I didn’t do that. Here’s what I thought: Farewell, My Lovely sustains Chandler’s uncanny gift for physical descriptions, similes, quick, idiosyncratic dialogue, and ability to toss plot(s) up in the wind early in a novel and then weave some elements together while discarding others toward the end.
Here’s a sample of Chandler’s distinctive style:
“Outside the narrow street fumed, the sidewalks swarmed with fat stomachs. Across the street a bingo parlor was going full blast and beside it a couple of sailors with girls were coming out of a photographer’s shop where they had probably been having their photos taken riding on camels. The voice of the hot dog merchant split the dusk like an axe. A big blue bus blared down the street to the little circle where the street car used to turn on a turntable. I walked that way...”
One of my friends says writing like that is enough to keep him reading regardless of Chandler’s characters, themes, or plots. I don’t know if I’d go that far. I like the physical quality of the writing, the unnecessary bit about the sailors, their girlfriends and the camels, the characterization of the hot dog merchant’s voice, and the big blue bus, but I look for more in a novel, and there is more to Farewell, My Lovely.
The principal characters, led by Philip Marlowe, the detective, all get the Chandler treatment in two senses: what they look like (features, clothes, style of walking) and how they talk. They are vivid if tightly gathered around a thin slice of underworld life.
Then there is Marlowe’s crazy curiosity and emblematic sense of ethics: time and again he turns away or gives back money when he feels he hasn’t performed a job to his employer’s specifications. This is a quirk that distinguishes him from almost everyone else in the novel. Either they have tons of money and money isn’t an issue for them (Marlowe doesn’t have tons of money, far from it) or they will do anything to get it.
The paradox of Marlowe is the juxtaposition of his curiosity and his sense of ethics: he takes risks that, no, you wouldn’t take, and neither would I, in order to fulfill his verbal contracts with people who, in the end, prove to be “beneath” him.
This makes him predictably maddening and interesting, and probably makes the reader wish he or she also lived such an untethered life, able to act on any thought, travel here or there in an interesting city, drink at odd hours, recover quickly from being sapped, and able to consistently accept criticism and indulge in self-criticism. In Marlowe’s world, you often lose, but that’s in the nature of things. Shakespeare must have said something like that, and somewhere or other, Marlowe has learned enough Shakespeare to quote him from time to time.
Does it matter that many of Chandler’s vivid characters are fundamentally caricatures, lacking depth? Does it matter that the contortions of the plot, when they come unsprung, make glancing sense? It’s impossible not to say yes, it matters. But even bit players in Chandler possess an almost Chaucerian humanity, which is to say they are compelling moral portraits, conditioned by bad luck, bad friends, bad enemies, and the ravages of time. Even outside the narrative framework, these figures possess a certain alluring authenticity. Chandler’s artistry lies in constructing that authenticity with his quirky details, the snap in his dialogue, the sordid fragmentary back stories that have wrapped them up in the mysteries Philip Marlowe is determined to crack between drinks.
For more of my comments on contemporary and classic fiction, see Tuppence Reviews (Kindle).
April 15, 2022
My first hardboiled/noir literary classic. I've seen plenty of noir movies, but don't recall reading Chandler, Hammett, or Cain etc.'s prose before, so it was hard not to read The Big Sleep without imagining it as a film playing in my head. That's not entirely fair to what Chandler achieves here, which is a mood piece of considerable warped charm. Chandler's portrait of 1930's Southern California is arresting - especially its overwhelmingly fetid (and anomalously damp) atmosphere of corruption, both ethical and organic. LA at that point was barely 150 years old, a young city by almost any measure. And yet in Chandler's eyes, the town and its people have already begun to rot. Old fortunes are fading, oil derricks and houses falling into disrepair, and whatever social cohesion the place once enjoyed has dissipated to the point that its residents are mostly unmoored, unbalanced, and only out for themselves. Chandler's Marlowe makes an ideal guide to this world: a loner willingly and often sentimentally engaging with - even attracted to - the sordidly exploitative and violent, while trying to make some kind of principled way through it. The novel's casual sexism was hard to take, even if it was a genuine feature of the world it depicts. The same goes for its homophobia. But the punchy, slangy dialog is a treat and the meandering plot - the story of a man who doesn't really know what he's looking for or why he cares - is the perfect vehicle for an existentialist-era detective with little idea of why his life might be worth living.
June 1, 2017
When The Big Sleep was published in 1939. It wasn't all that popular until after the Howard Hawks' film starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall came to theaters. The movie was minus a couple of the book's chapters but kept all the best lines. My rating: 3-1/2
The Big Sleep introduced readers and movie goers to Philip Marlowe, according to the Los Angeles Times, the "quintessential urban private eye." There were a whole lot of writers that later imitated Raymond Chandler's hero. In the book (not so much in the films) he was a misogynist, homophobic, and smoked a cigarette or had a drink or two on just about every other page.
The storyline is very complicated and convoluted. A dying millionaire hires Marlowe to handle the blackmailer of one of his two troublesome daughters (Carmen and Vivian), and Marlowe finds himself involved with more than extortion. Kidnapping, pornography, seduction, and murder are just a few of the complications he gets caught up in.
Sometimes it is a bit confusing. Marlowe is single and attractive to women and the movie has more fun with that than the novel. In the book when Marlowe finds Carmen naked in his bed, he tosses her out of his apartment and rips out the sheets so he won't have to sleep in them and afterward complains that he woke up with a hangover, not from alcohol, but from women. In the movie (the first one) everyone is horny. When Marlowe takes a cab, it 's driven by a good looking woman, and she makes a pass at him. When he walked into a bookstore to keep an eye on the store across the street, the brainy, lusty, bespectacled bookstore clerk immediately closes the store. The gay men in the novel have that part of their identity ignored in the movie.
There is just a lot in the book that doesn't add up, i.e., the whacko drug addled Carmen who in the novel has some sort of mental illness, but in the movie comes off as more believable--mostly a spoiled rich kid living a hedonistic lifestyle.
The actions of Marlowe in one chapter put him in the bad guys camp and in the next chapter, he is on the side of the angels. None of the inconsistencies or flaws in the characters matter nor do factual flaws such as "the smell of cordite" (copied by so many other writers) instead of gunpowder since Cordite was used in artillery shells during WW I and not in the handguns during the time period of this story. Despite the book despite being around 80 years old and its factual flaws is still a page turner.
In Chandler's second novel, Farewell My Lovely, Philip Marlowe, private detective uses the "N" word more than any Spike Lee movie as he witnesses the killing of a bartender, in a Negro nightclub, and then of a client, who seems to be connected to a jewelry theft ring, illegal drug sales, and probably more. My rating: 2-1/2.
Marlowe's head gets clobbered more often than anyone in the NFL as he defies the police and prowls on his own. With the help of a redhead, Marlowe follows the trail which leads from a bar to a rich seductive blonde to a spurious occultist to a graft-ridden small California town police set-up with visits to a quack's hospital and a gambling ship anchored 3 miles off the coast.
In this second Philip Marlowe novel the detective may not drink as often as in the first, but when he does, he really does put the booze away.
There are characters in the novel that seem to be there for the sole purpose of providing the exposition necessary to understand the plot(s), sometimes not helped by their use of (now very dated) criminal argot.
The Big Sleep introduced readers and movie goers to Philip Marlowe, according to the Los Angeles Times, the "quintessential urban private eye." There were a whole lot of writers that later imitated Raymond Chandler's hero. In the book (not so much in the films) he was a misogynist, homophobic, and smoked a cigarette or had a drink or two on just about every other page.
The storyline is very complicated and convoluted. A dying millionaire hires Marlowe to handle the blackmailer of one of his two troublesome daughters (Carmen and Vivian), and Marlowe finds himself involved with more than extortion. Kidnapping, pornography, seduction, and murder are just a few of the complications he gets caught up in.
Sometimes it is a bit confusing. Marlowe is single and attractive to women and the movie has more fun with that than the novel. In the book when Marlowe finds Carmen naked in his bed, he tosses her out of his apartment and rips out the sheets so he won't have to sleep in them and afterward complains that he woke up with a hangover, not from alcohol, but from women. In the movie (the first one) everyone is horny. When Marlowe takes a cab, it 's driven by a good looking woman, and she makes a pass at him. When he walked into a bookstore to keep an eye on the store across the street, the brainy, lusty, bespectacled bookstore clerk immediately closes the store. The gay men in the novel have that part of their identity ignored in the movie.
There is just a lot in the book that doesn't add up, i.e., the whacko drug addled Carmen who in the novel has some sort of mental illness, but in the movie comes off as more believable--mostly a spoiled rich kid living a hedonistic lifestyle.
The actions of Marlowe in one chapter put him in the bad guys camp and in the next chapter, he is on the side of the angels. None of the inconsistencies or flaws in the characters matter nor do factual flaws such as "the smell of cordite" (copied by so many other writers) instead of gunpowder since Cordite was used in artillery shells during WW I and not in the handguns during the time period of this story. Despite the book despite being around 80 years old and its factual flaws is still a page turner.
In Chandler's second novel, Farewell My Lovely, Philip Marlowe, private detective uses the "N" word more than any Spike Lee movie as he witnesses the killing of a bartender, in a Negro nightclub, and then of a client, who seems to be connected to a jewelry theft ring, illegal drug sales, and probably more. My rating: 2-1/2.
Marlowe's head gets clobbered more often than anyone in the NFL as he defies the police and prowls on his own. With the help of a redhead, Marlowe follows the trail which leads from a bar to a rich seductive blonde to a spurious occultist to a graft-ridden small California town police set-up with visits to a quack's hospital and a gambling ship anchored 3 miles off the coast.
In this second Philip Marlowe novel the detective may not drink as often as in the first, but when he does, he really does put the booze away.
There are characters in the novel that seem to be there for the sole purpose of providing the exposition necessary to understand the plot(s), sometimes not helped by their use of (now very dated) criminal argot.
November 21, 2017
The last time I had seen Dr. Cliff Harbour, we had spent time talking about the book I was writing as well as the book that he had written,
John Dewey and the Future of Community College Education
. During that visit, he insisted that I read
The Big Sleep & Farewell, My Lovely
by Raymond Chandler. In fact, he opened the book to the first page and had me read the first couple paragraphs. He wanted to point it out, and what I noted while reading the book, was that Raymond Chandler sparingly used his words. Yet, he was able to elicit an emotion. Read more
September 19, 2024
Ok, I’ve read Chandler. Definitely some entertaining elements (and a lot of smoking!).
June 30, 2009
I wasn't planning on reading both books, but since Chandler's novels are such quick reads, I plowed through The Big Sleep in a couple of days and was stranded without anything else to do but go on. The hardboiled, sarcastic dialogue of Phil Marlowe was the real treat of both of these noir mysteries. Being a fan of the genre of film, I was lured to check out one of the most influential writers of 50s pulp crime fiction. The Big Sleep was by far the best yarn, and one that takes the reader on the discovery with Marlowe. Farewell, My Lovely was an exciting adventure, but the narrative feels a bit more 3rd person. (e.g. We don't know what was written on the back of the card for Moose Malloy.) Personally, I felt like the ending was too suddenly revealed and neatly wrapped up... however I may be a bit daft and just didn't see it coming. However, the real joy in Chandler's stories is the sardonic and gritty writing, regardless of how the case is solved. Separately, I give The Big Sleep 5 stars and Farewell, My Lovely 4.
June 10, 2009
The Big Sleep and Farewell, My Lovely are both great mystery stories with beautiful writing. Well written crime novels are an unusual thing! The detective, Philip Marlowe, is such a funny and interesting character. The mystery thing keeps you guessing what's going to happen, but the visual descriptions are also surprisingly enjoyable. I remember an incredibly beautiful passage describing rain. I think Raymond Chandler is the best of his genre! (Hammett is also great, but his writing isn't as beautiful. Spillane is okay... and Robert Parker is fun and funny and light, but his writing is just not at Chandler's level)
September 23, 2013
Didn't particularly feel concerned about the results of the plot, as the stakes didn't feel high, but the characterization made up for it to the point that I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Sat this down too often and never made a lot of sense, and I was Ok with that too. Lots of memorable scenes. Zippy reads l, but if these were long I'd be having doubts about whether it is worth it. The constant rain is never ending, and it's implausibility (for LA!) means that the novel has a surreal, Carnival of Horrors -type atmosphere. I keep getting this writer mixed up with Raymond Carver, who was Murakami's big influence, so I'd keep thinking of Murakami as I read this. Or did he like both? I got to research that.
June 21, 2007
Chandler is one of my favorite all time authors. I still havne't read everything he's ever written, but I'm working on it. but of all his work, The Big Sleep was his first and best novel. Funny, with a characters you can't help but like, and not a word wasted anywhere. Too bad Chandler himself was reputedly a total bastard, and an alcoholic, too.
September 5, 2008
I find myself drawn more and more to detective stories. These are quite good. Detective Marlowe always seems to be a step ahead of the rest of the players and, even though he might get beat up a little, he always comes out on top. It's also great to see someone solve crime without a cell phone and DNA evidence.
March 8, 2009
Chandler's prose is remarkable but I found myself never able to get going with this. I love Marlowe's snappy self-effacement but there was something about the long blocks of description that made my eyes glaze over. I'd read more once I'm done getting through Sin City. Too much noir can make an even keeled guy like myself feel a little less than jake.
Read
January 4, 2009The writing was fabulous! It was disappointing to not have one of the murders solved. Apparently Chandler thought he made it clear in the novel and when he went back and read it, he realized it was not clear.
March 24, 2012
Classic hardboiled private investigator stuff. The best the genre ever got. With all the humor and the crazy language, all the dark scenes, all the twisted plots. You have to read this at some point in your life.
July 26, 2014
Slogged through The Bi Sleep. No character development, uninteresting plot, weak ending. Cool old time slang. Didn't even attempt Farewell My Lovely.
April 1, 2013
The noirish detective genre has been parodied so many times in so many ways that when someone is playing it absolutely straight you automatically start looking for an ironic angle or some kind of post-modern recontextualization, some wink toward modern times that seems to suggest "Isn't this silly?" while acknowledging the awesome parts of it at the same time. You wait for the rain to hit the roof like hammers and the dames to be dangerous and sexy, for all the most important conversational pieces to be relayed with fists and of course, for the mystery to be solved.
But what if what you're reading is the real thing? Would you even be able to recognize it? If the thing in question is Raymond Chandler, chances are the answer is yes. I'm not sure if he invented the style that is on display in these two books, but he's so well associated with it that he might as well be the originator. Still, generally in a case like this when you're going so far back in the past to read the source material for the hordes of book that came along later to rip it off, you don't get the shock of the new that greeted audiences back in the early 1940s who were encountering this material for the first time. Elements that were supposed to be novel are repeated so many times that they've become old hat, or worse, cliches. You're reading everyone's favorite memories, basically, like looking through a photo album of people who aren't related to you. You get the sense that it once held importance to someone, but you don't feel any real connection. It's been blunted or blocked.
Oddly enough, there was no sense of that for me here. Maybe because the style is so pure and Chandler so sure of himself that even though I was reading scenes that have probably been repeated and homaged and parodied too many times to count over the decades, it felt like I was reading a book that had been released last week. For one, his grasp on his own style is impressive. All the typical hard boiled rhythms are there but the difference is that Chandler knows how to actually write and not string a whole bunch of metaphors together in the hopes of creating atmosphere. Nearly every page has an off-kilter description that rings perfectly true, and they come one after the other like building blocks putting together a world made of gangrenous shadows. It should sound ridiculous and even moreso when you start to recognize the style as something that has spawned legions of imitators. But it somehow never falls into the black hole of cliche, maybe because all the fancy descriptions are more than just thin drapes propping up a rickety skeleton. Chandler's world has definition, his characters have lives outside the pages that just happen to spiral into each other in the stories, glimpses into underground clockwork that doesn't so much keep the world moving as prevent itself from breaking down further. The backdrop of his Los Angeles is a negative projection, night inverted into the day and with us drawn into the new daylight so we can see what we weren't supposed to. It's all your suspicions come true. It's like finding out that Santa Claus is real, but he really doesn't like you.
And through it all moves Philip Marlowe, a man whose every step sends splashes of copycats futilely attempting to emulate what for him is merely living. The books here are his first two appearances and from the start he commands the page with a moral view that suits the times and the location, honest and unwavering but willing to find the dirty places where the unpleasantness is done. He's out of place wherever he goes, but everyone on some level either needs him or needs him dead. He has a moral code that doesn't need to be explained but seems drawn from his life and molded from experience. Out of everything else its his determination that impresses the most, having taken the case he sees it through to the end, no matter how much punishment is in store along the way. He plows through.
He seems to arrive fully formed as well. Perhaps because both novels are conglomerations of short stories that Chandler had already written, with scenarios given better life with the new insertion of Marlowe. "The Big Sleep" perhaps best demonstrates the seams of his odd sewing together of plots, as Marlowe navigates so many twists that he almost seems to forget to solve the case (indeed, one loose end in particular will strike you as glaring). Asked to investigate why an old rich man is being blackmailed, what seems to be simple runs itself adrift on complicated shores, as the old man's nigh-sociopathic daughters seem bent on keeping half the criminal element of the city employed one way or another. What I like about this one is not only how the case keeps complicating itself as the bodies start to stack up, but how it exposes the machinations of a secret world, with all the various elements moving in and out of the shadow, old friends to Marlowe but new to us, an economy dependent on nothing honest but oddly vital all the same. He keeps the pieces moving often enough that the particulars of the case hardly seem important and the real joy comes in watching Marlowe attempt to wind his way amongst factions who all seem to be working at cross-purposes and together with each other. And then when the solution unknots itself, it's so left-field that it's perfect in a way.
But as decent as that novel was (its closing paragraphs seem to encapsulate not only Marlowe but the world he lives in), "Farewell, My Lovely" takes all that it was and squares it. The mystery is more cutting, the scope is larger, the prose sharper, the dangers more bracing. Stumbling into a case nearly by accident, Marlowe begins to unravel complications like a series of Russian dolls without end, none of which he intended, or were intended to be exposed. He's faster on his feet in this one, using his brain as often as his fists, impressing his enemies and intimidating them in equal measure. Chandler sketches out a universe where literally everyone is corrupt but some are more corrupt than others, and deciding who to deal with isn't a matter of what you can stand but what gets the job done. Yet Marlowe remains stainless even when bloodied, understanding the world even as he's smart enough not to try and make any real sense of it. The twists here are dizzying and delirious, lights shining in the corners where the cockroaches go, and following them to where they scatter. His LA is a place where the decay has become beautiful, and you can stay alive as long as you're useful, even if the who changes from day to day. The mystery is even less important than telling the story here and when the finale arrives it almost seems off-handed, one more loose end that becomes snipped, told as a bedtime story to people who'd rather not go to sleep. But the book almost says we have to close our eyes to avoid really seeing what surrounds us, what makes the world go, and how we don't realize the extent of the depths because we've sunk so far ourselves. These are fables told to inhabit our monochrome dreams, in the vain hopes that we can one day see as much with our eyes closed as Marlowe does with his eyes open, unflinching and weary and clear.
But what if what you're reading is the real thing? Would you even be able to recognize it? If the thing in question is Raymond Chandler, chances are the answer is yes. I'm not sure if he invented the style that is on display in these two books, but he's so well associated with it that he might as well be the originator. Still, generally in a case like this when you're going so far back in the past to read the source material for the hordes of book that came along later to rip it off, you don't get the shock of the new that greeted audiences back in the early 1940s who were encountering this material for the first time. Elements that were supposed to be novel are repeated so many times that they've become old hat, or worse, cliches. You're reading everyone's favorite memories, basically, like looking through a photo album of people who aren't related to you. You get the sense that it once held importance to someone, but you don't feel any real connection. It's been blunted or blocked.
Oddly enough, there was no sense of that for me here. Maybe because the style is so pure and Chandler so sure of himself that even though I was reading scenes that have probably been repeated and homaged and parodied too many times to count over the decades, it felt like I was reading a book that had been released last week. For one, his grasp on his own style is impressive. All the typical hard boiled rhythms are there but the difference is that Chandler knows how to actually write and not string a whole bunch of metaphors together in the hopes of creating atmosphere. Nearly every page has an off-kilter description that rings perfectly true, and they come one after the other like building blocks putting together a world made of gangrenous shadows. It should sound ridiculous and even moreso when you start to recognize the style as something that has spawned legions of imitators. But it somehow never falls into the black hole of cliche, maybe because all the fancy descriptions are more than just thin drapes propping up a rickety skeleton. Chandler's world has definition, his characters have lives outside the pages that just happen to spiral into each other in the stories, glimpses into underground clockwork that doesn't so much keep the world moving as prevent itself from breaking down further. The backdrop of his Los Angeles is a negative projection, night inverted into the day and with us drawn into the new daylight so we can see what we weren't supposed to. It's all your suspicions come true. It's like finding out that Santa Claus is real, but he really doesn't like you.
And through it all moves Philip Marlowe, a man whose every step sends splashes of copycats futilely attempting to emulate what for him is merely living. The books here are his first two appearances and from the start he commands the page with a moral view that suits the times and the location, honest and unwavering but willing to find the dirty places where the unpleasantness is done. He's out of place wherever he goes, but everyone on some level either needs him or needs him dead. He has a moral code that doesn't need to be explained but seems drawn from his life and molded from experience. Out of everything else its his determination that impresses the most, having taken the case he sees it through to the end, no matter how much punishment is in store along the way. He plows through.
He seems to arrive fully formed as well. Perhaps because both novels are conglomerations of short stories that Chandler had already written, with scenarios given better life with the new insertion of Marlowe. "The Big Sleep" perhaps best demonstrates the seams of his odd sewing together of plots, as Marlowe navigates so many twists that he almost seems to forget to solve the case (indeed, one loose end in particular will strike you as glaring). Asked to investigate why an old rich man is being blackmailed, what seems to be simple runs itself adrift on complicated shores, as the old man's nigh-sociopathic daughters seem bent on keeping half the criminal element of the city employed one way or another. What I like about this one is not only how the case keeps complicating itself as the bodies start to stack up, but how it exposes the machinations of a secret world, with all the various elements moving in and out of the shadow, old friends to Marlowe but new to us, an economy dependent on nothing honest but oddly vital all the same. He keeps the pieces moving often enough that the particulars of the case hardly seem important and the real joy comes in watching Marlowe attempt to wind his way amongst factions who all seem to be working at cross-purposes and together with each other. And then when the solution unknots itself, it's so left-field that it's perfect in a way.
But as decent as that novel was (its closing paragraphs seem to encapsulate not only Marlowe but the world he lives in), "Farewell, My Lovely" takes all that it was and squares it. The mystery is more cutting, the scope is larger, the prose sharper, the dangers more bracing. Stumbling into a case nearly by accident, Marlowe begins to unravel complications like a series of Russian dolls without end, none of which he intended, or were intended to be exposed. He's faster on his feet in this one, using his brain as often as his fists, impressing his enemies and intimidating them in equal measure. Chandler sketches out a universe where literally everyone is corrupt but some are more corrupt than others, and deciding who to deal with isn't a matter of what you can stand but what gets the job done. Yet Marlowe remains stainless even when bloodied, understanding the world even as he's smart enough not to try and make any real sense of it. The twists here are dizzying and delirious, lights shining in the corners where the cockroaches go, and following them to where they scatter. His LA is a place where the decay has become beautiful, and you can stay alive as long as you're useful, even if the who changes from day to day. The mystery is even less important than telling the story here and when the finale arrives it almost seems off-handed, one more loose end that becomes snipped, told as a bedtime story to people who'd rather not go to sleep. But the book almost says we have to close our eyes to avoid really seeing what surrounds us, what makes the world go, and how we don't realize the extent of the depths because we've sunk so far ourselves. These are fables told to inhabit our monochrome dreams, in the vain hopes that we can one day see as much with our eyes closed as Marlowe does with his eyes open, unflinching and weary and clear.
February 11, 2025
I can see why The Big Sleep is considered a classic. Raymond Chandler’s writing is the star here—his descriptions are so vivid and atmospheric that you feel the grit of 1930s L.A. The way he builds a scene is unlike anything I’ve read before, and Marlowe as a character carries the whole book with his sharp wit and unshakable presence. He walks into every situation fully himself, and that strong, no-nonsense attitude makes him compelling to follow.
That said, I had mixed feelings about the plot. It was a little too chaotic at times—there were so many moving pieces and double-crosses that it felt convoluted rather than thrilling. The two sisters were wild, but their drama felt over the top in a way that sometimes lost me. And even though I liked Chandler’s writing style, I did find myself getting bored in parts, just trying to push through to the next big moment.
The tone, though? Spot on. It’s got that “Beat it, toots” energy that really nails the noir vibe, which made the dialogue entertaining. Even when the story dragged, the way people talked to each other kept things fun.
Overall, I liked it, but I don’t feel the need to immediately jump into Farewell, My Lovely. l If you love noir and atmosphere-driven books, this one is worth the read—but if you need a super engaging plot, it might not hit as hard.
That said, I had mixed feelings about the plot. It was a little too chaotic at times—there were so many moving pieces and double-crosses that it felt convoluted rather than thrilling. The two sisters were wild, but their drama felt over the top in a way that sometimes lost me. And even though I liked Chandler’s writing style, I did find myself getting bored in parts, just trying to push through to the next big moment.
The tone, though? Spot on. It’s got that “Beat it, toots” energy that really nails the noir vibe, which made the dialogue entertaining. Even when the story dragged, the way people talked to each other kept things fun.
Overall, I liked it, but I don’t feel the need to immediately jump into Farewell, My Lovely. l If you love noir and atmosphere-driven books, this one is worth the read—but if you need a super engaging plot, it might not hit as hard.
July 28, 2025
The first novel is 'The Big Sleep' and I couldn't read it without seeing Bogart & Bacall in the primary roles. The one thing I noticed about Chandler's writing style is his dependence on creating a mood in his settings. Also, he doesn't think much of people's ability to stay on their moral high ground. Also, I sense his style owes something to Hemingway, sparingly using words.
In 'Farewell My Lovely' Chandler crafts what he called his finest novel, set in the fictional Southern California town of Bay City, which in reality is Santa Monica, private dick Phillip Marlowe takes a missing person's case from an ex- con who doesn't know his own strength. He's just finished 8 years in the slammer, and wants to find a girl he loved. A surprising twist ends Marlowe's sleuthing on the case. Plenty of sleazy characters from both sides of the street populate this probe into the corruption of the human spirit, which Chandler claims he wrote about - not crime novels. He certainly succeeded in this novel. He explores the underbelly of L.A. society, masked by the thin veneer of money and sexuality that, mishandled, eventually corrupts. The only 'okey' character remotely displaying morals is hard-boiled detective Marlowe.
These novels follow Jesus' view of all of us, whether Chandler knew it or not (Mark 10:18): "There is none good but God."
One star less for language taking God's name in vain, although less than one would expect.
In 'Farewell My Lovely' Chandler crafts what he called his finest novel, set in the fictional Southern California town of Bay City, which in reality is Santa Monica, private dick Phillip Marlowe takes a missing person's case from an ex- con who doesn't know his own strength. He's just finished 8 years in the slammer, and wants to find a girl he loved. A surprising twist ends Marlowe's sleuthing on the case. Plenty of sleazy characters from both sides of the street populate this probe into the corruption of the human spirit, which Chandler claims he wrote about - not crime novels. He certainly succeeded in this novel. He explores the underbelly of L.A. society, masked by the thin veneer of money and sexuality that, mishandled, eventually corrupts. The only 'okey' character remotely displaying morals is hard-boiled detective Marlowe.
These novels follow Jesus' view of all of us, whether Chandler knew it or not (Mark 10:18): "There is none good but God."
One star less for language taking God's name in vain, although less than one would expect.
July 21, 2017
I loved reading Chandler in my teens, his writing style is easy to get into.
Rereading it now in my 60's I am a bit more critical of the plots which in all honesty aren't very good (Who did kill the Sternwood's Chauffeur ?). The truth is however its all about Marlowe, and his interaction with the sleazy world and even sleazier characters that he investigates. Enjoy it on that level and forget about the plot.
Rereading it now in my 60's I am a bit more critical of the plots which in all honesty aren't very good (Who did kill the Sternwood's Chauffeur ?). The truth is however its all about Marlowe, and his interaction with the sleazy world and even sleazier characters that he investigates. Enjoy it on that level and forget about the plot.
May 1, 2023
Chandler's first two Philip Marlowe novels - together they more or less create the self-narrating (and self-amused), world-weary, hard-boiled private eye that has been copied and parodied countless times. The Big Sleep is a masterpiece - a dark, sad, memorable story about the sins and selfishness of the idle rich, and one man who tries to do something about it, full of great lines and indelible images. Farewell, My Lovely doesn't work as well - it's a little long and more than a little implausible (there's really no good reason why Marlowe gets himself involved with any of these pointless dangers and obvious setups), with too many ideas and locales (along with alleyways, police stations, and murder scenes, we've got gambling boats, Hollywood psychics, sanitariums, and Central LA - and Chandler writing about Black people is more than a little uncomfortable. The argument that this novel was of its time wears a little thin the fourth or fifth time Marlowe uses a racial epithet). It's overstuffed, but Chandler's voice is still sharp and sad and wry, and worth reading. Two great, seminal detective stories.
September 1, 2025
Raymond Chandler is a giant of the crime writing world and in this book we have two of his private detective Philip Marlowe stories. The first story, The Big Sleep, sees Marlowe dealing with a blackmail case, the second, Farewell, My Lovely, deals with missing nightclub crooner and a mix of gangsters which leave Marlowe's life on the line. Two good stories probably a 3.5 star rating.
February 2, 2018
The Big Sleep Only - a little dated for me but some of Chandler’s descriptions are clever “her eyelashes cuddled her cheeks”
November 4, 2018
Well written but a little dated. Touch guy detective is a bit worn out, but must remember that is started here. Good writing.
April 5, 2019
Loved the eccentric, quirky metaphors
The main character, Marlow has such a dry, unusual sense of humor.
Murakami Haruki mentioned about the influence of Raymond Chandler on his works- I could see resemblance on the points mentioned above.
Only complain I had about these stories were in the world of hard-boiled American mystery, it seems like women do not hold very nice reputation- they are cold-hearted crooks or nutty coo coos.
The main character, Marlow has such a dry, unusual sense of humor.
Murakami Haruki mentioned about the influence of Raymond Chandler on his works- I could see resemblance on the points mentioned above.
Only complain I had about these stories were in the world of hard-boiled American mystery, it seems like women do not hold very nice reputation- they are cold-hearted crooks or nutty coo coos.
February 20, 2022
Slow going. Wonderful writing but I just couldn’t get into it.
May 24, 2020
Et mysterium byggs upp kring en 'Rusty Reagan' som alla tror att Marlow letar efter, samtidigt som han säger att han inte gör det, att han inte fått det uppdraget. Och värdlen är smutsig och falsk...
March 16, 2018
Farewell, My Lovely was the second Philip Marlowe novel Raymond Chandler wrote, but it was the first to be adapted for the screen as a Philip Marlowe movie. This was the movie retitled as Murder, My Sweet (1944), the film which refashioned the image of crooner Dick Powell and turned him into a popular movie tough guy.
The movie hews closely to the plot of the book, with a couple of exceptions, though it leaves much out (as inevitably happens). Marlowe is working on a case that is going nowhere when he stumbles across ex-con Moose Malloy. Malloy, just out of prison after serving eight years for robbery, is looking for his ex-girlfriend, Velma Valento. His curiosity getting the better of him, Marlowe follows Malloy into the nightclub where Velma used to work. Thus begins a chain of events which will see Marlowe getting involved with shady psychics, crooked cops, jewel thieves, the beautiful, young wife of an elderly man, and, naturally, stumbling over a corpse or two.
As is often the case in Chandler's novels, much of the action is motivated by the past. Specifically, people's desire to keep it buried as far down as possible. People will kill to keep the past hidden, or to bring it to light. They'll blackmail and threaten first, but if that fails, the bodies will begin to pile up. You can run from the past, but it catches up sooner or later.
Chandler's writing is strong in this novel. His use of metaphor is one of his most admired traits, and it is on full display here. I'll select just one to highlight. Driving at night, Marlowe sees some flowers by the side of the road. Chandler describes them this way: "On the other side of the road was a raw clay bank at the edge of which a few unbeatable wild flowers hung on like naughty children that won't go to bed" (378). Metaphor is one of the hardest literary devices to use well. Chandler had the gift.
Another sentence, from late in the novel, conveys Chandler's mastery of compression, his ability to cram thoughts and words into a narrow space without having them explode. Marlowe is about to deliver a message that will set the endgame in motion. It will be a dangerous trip, and Marlowe would rather not make it. But he will anyway. "I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun" (470). They are, as they are always for Marlowe, enough.
Another thing I admire about Chandler is that he made Marlowe intelligent. He is educated and well-read. At the end of the story, Marlowe describes the old man who married a much younger woman by quoting Shakespeare; the old man, Marlowe says, "had loved not wisely, but too well" (524).
Marlowe has a reputation as a cynic, but what is overlooked is that the cynicism never wins out. It is a tempered cynicism. After being sent to a private sanatorium by a couple of crooked cops, Marlowe tracks one of them down. To his surprise, he finds the cop is a decent fellow who thought he was doing the right thing. Even the racketeer to whom Marlowe has to deliver his message at the end is honorable after his fashion. And Marlowe even finds a kind word for Velma, this after her having set in train a chain of events that has led to several deaths, including, in the end, her own.
The stuff with the racketeer and Marlowe's journey to see him isn't in Murder, My Sweet. There are other changes, the biggest one being that the character played by Anne Shirley in the movie here isn't the daughter of the old man and step-daughter of his young wife (played by Claire Trevor in the movie), but simply a bystander who stumbles randomly onto the scene of the first murder. (She's out riding her horse, sees some suspicious activity, and decides to investigate.) Personally, I think the movie works better on this point. At any rate, given the need to compress the book for film, it was a sensible change to make, as it solves the problem of incorporating the character into the story.
In the next Marlowe novel, The High Window, Marlowe is described as someone to whom things happen, which makes him dangerous. That's a fair summation of the plot. Marlowe happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that means no end of trouble for a whole lot of people. For everyone, in fact, except the reader. And we wouldn't have it otherwise.
Posted April 2, 2015
The movie hews closely to the plot of the book, with a couple of exceptions, though it leaves much out (as inevitably happens). Marlowe is working on a case that is going nowhere when he stumbles across ex-con Moose Malloy. Malloy, just out of prison after serving eight years for robbery, is looking for his ex-girlfriend, Velma Valento. His curiosity getting the better of him, Marlowe follows Malloy into the nightclub where Velma used to work. Thus begins a chain of events which will see Marlowe getting involved with shady psychics, crooked cops, jewel thieves, the beautiful, young wife of an elderly man, and, naturally, stumbling over a corpse or two.
As is often the case in Chandler's novels, much of the action is motivated by the past. Specifically, people's desire to keep it buried as far down as possible. People will kill to keep the past hidden, or to bring it to light. They'll blackmail and threaten first, but if that fails, the bodies will begin to pile up. You can run from the past, but it catches up sooner or later.
Chandler's writing is strong in this novel. His use of metaphor is one of his most admired traits, and it is on full display here. I'll select just one to highlight. Driving at night, Marlowe sees some flowers by the side of the road. Chandler describes them this way: "On the other side of the road was a raw clay bank at the edge of which a few unbeatable wild flowers hung on like naughty children that won't go to bed" (378). Metaphor is one of the hardest literary devices to use well. Chandler had the gift.
Another sentence, from late in the novel, conveys Chandler's mastery of compression, his ability to cram thoughts and words into a narrow space without having them explode. Marlowe is about to deliver a message that will set the endgame in motion. It will be a dangerous trip, and Marlowe would rather not make it. But he will anyway. "I needed a drink, I needed a lot of life insurance, I needed a vacation, I needed a home in the country. What I had was a coat, a hat and a gun" (470). They are, as they are always for Marlowe, enough.
Another thing I admire about Chandler is that he made Marlowe intelligent. He is educated and well-read. At the end of the story, Marlowe describes the old man who married a much younger woman by quoting Shakespeare; the old man, Marlowe says, "had loved not wisely, but too well" (524).
Marlowe has a reputation as a cynic, but what is overlooked is that the cynicism never wins out. It is a tempered cynicism. After being sent to a private sanatorium by a couple of crooked cops, Marlowe tracks one of them down. To his surprise, he finds the cop is a decent fellow who thought he was doing the right thing. Even the racketeer to whom Marlowe has to deliver his message at the end is honorable after his fashion. And Marlowe even finds a kind word for Velma, this after her having set in train a chain of events that has led to several deaths, including, in the end, her own.
The stuff with the racketeer and Marlowe's journey to see him isn't in Murder, My Sweet. There are other changes, the biggest one being that the character played by Anne Shirley in the movie here isn't the daughter of the old man and step-daughter of his young wife (played by Claire Trevor in the movie), but simply a bystander who stumbles randomly onto the scene of the first murder. (She's out riding her horse, sees some suspicious activity, and decides to investigate.) Personally, I think the movie works better on this point. At any rate, given the need to compress the book for film, it was a sensible change to make, as it solves the problem of incorporating the character into the story.
In the next Marlowe novel, The High Window, Marlowe is described as someone to whom things happen, which makes him dangerous. That's a fair summation of the plot. Marlowe happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that means no end of trouble for a whole lot of people. For everyone, in fact, except the reader. And we wouldn't have it otherwise.
Posted April 2, 2015
January 6, 2021
Big Sleep, A hardboiled and complex crime novel, opens with General Sternwood who wants Marlowe to investigate a blackmail attempt on his wild young daughter, Carmen.
Farewell My Lovely, a noir novel, begins with a murder of a bar owner by Moose Malloy. Marlow searches for Velma, Moose’s old flame, and uncovers a larger mystery.
Both books are a fun escape!
Farewell My Lovely, a noir novel, begins with a murder of a bar owner by Moose Malloy. Marlow searches for Velma, Moose’s old flame, and uncovers a larger mystery.
Both books are a fun escape!
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