The Big Sleep

Chandler's staccato sentences and outrageous metaphors make for a fantastic read. And the book zips along at a rollicking pace which fits the story perfectly. Yet for all that it does seem to lose a little momentum half way through and there's a while where nothing much is happening at breakneck speed, culminating in the slightly rushed climax and clever dénouement.

I suspect if I read a few more of Philip Marlowe's adventures I'll adore them.

On a side note, I've always felt that Tolkien was incredibly good at creating a plot, but mildly let down by his abilities as a storyteller. Chandler, meanwhile, can clearly tell a story, and this book's only fault was a little stalling of the plot after the half way mark. So, if Tolkien had show more planned the plot of Lord of the Rings and Chandler had actually written it ... greatest book ever? I think it might have been. show less

Chandler's staccato sentences and outrageous metaphors make for a fantastic read. And the book zips along at a rollicking pace which fits the story perfectly. Yet for all that it does seem to lose a little momentum half way through and there's a while where nothing much is happening at breakneck speed, culminating in the slightly rushed climax and clever dénouement.

I suspect if I read a few more of Philip Marlowe's adventures I'll adore them.

On a side note, I've always felt that Tolkien was incredibly good at creating a plot, but mildly let down by his abilities as a storyteller. Chandler, meanwhile, can clearly tell a story, and this book's only fault was a little stalling of the plot after the half way mark. So, if Tolkien had show more planned the plot of Lord of the Rings and Chandler had actually written it ... greatest book ever? I think it might have been. show less

The film is an absolute classic. In fact the book made me want to see it again. But the book made the film. Bogart was made for the book too. He even played chess like Philip Marlowe. Despite the plot being hard to follow at points, I thoroughly enjoyed this.

It isn’t that Chandler knows how to write a good detective story with twists and turns and then some more. It’s that he managed to create a complete world of fiction in which to set the story. His cynical humour, the backdrop of urban California and his lightly sketched but heavily complex protagonist Marlowe are all absolute genius.

Faulkner was involved in the screenplay for the film but it must have been money for nothing. Chandler had already done all the work. Throughout, show more Marlowe uses one-liners that are classics. And when he doesn’t, he finds other characters to play off so that the exchange becomes classic itself. I wish I’d actually had the physical book in front of me to write some down but it isn’t that easy to grab a pen and start writing when you’re chopping a bucket of onions and listening to the audio.

Finally, I appreciated Marlowe’s coolness, seeming luck and stumble-upon method of solving crime. It’s a breath of air after the likes of Holmes and Poirot who are way too cerebral to be part of my universe.

Great book. show less

Some winking stars from Chandler’s hardboiled cosmos:

“I’m unmarried because I don’t like policemen’s wives.”

“I don’t see what there is to be cagey about,” she snapped. “And I don’t like your manners.”

“I’m not crazy about yours,” I said. “I didn’t ask to see you. You sent for me. I don’t mind your ritzing me or drinking your lunch out of a Scotch bottle. I don’t mind your showing me your legs. They’re very swell legs and it’s a pleasure to make their acquaintance. I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners. They’re pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings. But don’t waste your time trying to cross-examine me.”

“There’s been a lot of killing going on around me,” show more I said. “I haven’t been getting my share of it.”

This thing was absolutely choked with similes and I didn’t mind the lack of oxygen. Sinewy, smart and swaggering with its head and eyes set squarely forward. Sometimes with books this pervasive, I get bored halfway through. Imitators are legion, but they only usually copy the attitude and violence, skipping the atmosphere for flamboyant characters and gory acts instead of populating that world with warm-blooded, cool-headed beings eyestrained on the ever-churning cycle of that horror. It’s no wonder they turned this into a classic movie. It’s no surprise to me that the book is better show less

It’s a shame because there is some absolutely wonderful writing here. But the thoroughgoing distaste for women (as well as gay men) simply drips off the page, like the condensation on a cold glass of … whatever hard boiled detectives that hate women drink.

At the end, Marlowe’s put-upon self justification, his martyrdom, will sound very familiar in this age of white male martyrdom and self pity; in that respect, Marlowe is less of a relic of an era many of us had hoped was bygone, than a harbinger of what has come back and seems on course to flourish further. I hope, but do not expect, the day he and these attitudes are a relic again comes soon.

My interest in The Big Sleep spawned from my love of the Coen brothers’ loose adaptation of it, The Big Lebowski. I'm sure I'm not alone in using that as a frame of reference for picking up Chandler's work, and though I want to focus much of this review on The Big Sleep, I'd be remiss not to spend a little time collecting my thoughts on the comparison between the book and the film. I absolutely love their interpretation of Marlowe, turning the unflappable and dryly sarcastic ladies' man into an unwitting, unintentionally funny bum who is deluded into thinking he's still got it. Both Marlowe and the Dude are, underneath their exteriors, ethical people in some way, which helps our ability to empathize with them despite their show more eccentricities. I love the sense of humor consistent throughout the book; it's no wonder that the Coen brothers were drawn to it in the first place. Police are treated much the same as well: condescending, unhelpful, or both. Both Marlowe and the Dude find themselves caught amid a growing web of characters who all look to use them for their own undisclosed personal gain. That tension is really palpable, creating drama that drew me in from the opening scene to the conclusion.

The Big Sleep really shines in its evocation of 1930s back-alley Los Angeles. Dirty and damp sidewalks, smoke-filled parlors, the tense interior of a cramped car waiting for someone to appear, dingy apartment building hallways filled with mildew and refuse; the places that Marlowe prowls feel tangible. The spell that Chandler casts to make you feel as if you're really right there with Marlowe wears off easily, though. This is the type of book best read all at once, in no small part due to its confusing narrative and numerous plot holes. I lost track of these threads easily and found it a struggle to pick them back up again if I stopped reading for more than an hour.

Many people complain about the lack of resolution, that the narrative doesn't really amount to anything in the end. While I agree with that conclusion, it's that sense of hopelessness and ambiguity that I found myself enjoying, perfectly matched to the dreary setting and atmosphere. Chandler's Los Angeles is a city beset by murder, gambling, racketeering, and illicit sex. How could a 'satisfying' ending feel right in this context?

What I didn’t enjoy are the clearly dated sensibilities that litter the text: condescending, womanizing, and smarmy male figures; offhanded homophobia; casual misogyny. Certainly, it's a product of its time, and if that sort of stuff makes something unreadable for you, then this is a safe skip. For all of its sore points, though, The Big Sleep is really fast-paced, with something always happening to keep you off balance. Chandler writes assuming the reader is competent, smart enough to understand subtext. A nice amount of subtlety and unspoken actions, emotions, and tones made it fun and engaging to read.

Out of my limited experience with crime fiction, Chandler is definitely a step above the rest, though I'm still not convinced this stuff is exactly my cup of tea. show less

Dames! Gangsters! Banter! Crime! We all know what to expect from a hard-boiled detective novel and this is one of the novels that set the rules for the genre. Author Raymond Chandler began his career writing short stories for pulp magazines and then moved on to writing books, all about his private eye, Phillip Marlowe. Marlowe is a loner with a love of banter, a misogynist with white knight syndrome, a guy who doesn't carry a gun but knows how to throw a punch (and take one). The story is a little muddy, with lots of different criminal groups with complicated relationships, but the point of this book isn't the plot, but how fun it is to watch Marlowe do his thing. There are a few striking pictures of life in Los Angeles during the show more Depression, with some people living in luxury, others scrambling to find a few bucks and others living in back staircases or alleyways.

It's fun to think of a book written as a pulp novel, not intended to be more than a fun, escapist read, has endured and become a classic. Of course, it's still a fun read. show less