Anybody into this guy? I've read a couple of his books so far. I just finished "The High Window". Really good, IMO.

the big sleep is awesome.

I've only seen the movie, which did nothing for me.

thanks for posting

I can't believe you've said that ! That movie is awesome ! And the first lines of the novel, man, that put an ambiance in so little time !


And the movie just makes this ambiance so real. I'm thinking this movie is a masterpiece.

That was my problem with the movie. I don't think it ever created any memorable atmosphere or ambience. Film Noir without atmosphere is like sex without an orgasm.

Man, I totally disagree with you on this one. I think it has a really "noir" atmosphere. Bogart is nailing the Marlowe character. The opening scene with General Sternwood in the warmth of the veranda is terrific. And all the scenes on the boulevard with Geiger's bookstore...
But hey to each its own, as I'm talking with you about the movie I feel the urge to watch it again.

I guess the Noir atmospheres we like differ. Movies that come to mind for me when I want Noir atmosphere are Mann's Raw Deal, Preminger's Laura, Kazan's Panic In The Streets, etc. I love that rich, foggy look.

I also like Laura. For me, the quintessential Film noir is "The Asphalt Jungle". Characters that we know from the start are doomed, City atmosphere, no large shots, everything seems condensed, trapped.

Another one that leaves me lukewarm. Like I said, we just like different Noir atmospheres, I think.

I love Raymond Chandler. I think that I've read everything that he ever wrote. For what it's worth I don't think that there is any film that has captured the sensibility of his novels. I'm not a fan of The Big Sleep. It doesn't capture the deeply poetic style, the feeling of sickness within a brilliant exterior, that so typifies the novels. I'm not sure if most people know this, but Chandler began his writing career as a writer of deeply romantic poetry and brilliant literary essays. The pulse of his writing can be traced through his own turbulent, tragic romantic life. The promising, impetuous, romantic poetry of his youth was distilled down to the cynical, sharply honed prose of his detective novels. It's a fascinating study.

From young Raymond Chandler:

Come with me, love,
Across the world,
Ere glory fades
And wings are furled,
And we will wander hand in hand,
Like a boy and girl in a playroom land.

Stay with me, love,
In the city's murk,
Where the sun but dares
Shyly to lurk,
And we will watch life hand in hand,
Like a boy and girl in a grown-up land.

Go from me, love,
If thou 'lt not stay;
Follow thy bent,
'Tis the better way.
And I will seem to hold thy hand,
Like a child in dreams of fairyland.

I must leave thee, love?
'Tis I must go?
Then as thou wilt,
For thou must know.
Let me but think I hold thy hand,
I'll roam content in any land.

From the older, more cynical Raymond Chandler:

Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off.

I have to say, I was heartbroken when I first saw a picture of Raymond Chandler. He was supposed to look like Humphrey Bogart, dammit.

He was raised in England. If you've read his essays, you'll know that he was a brilliant literary scholar. If he had stayed in England, he might have become a war poet like Wilfred Owen or Siegfried Sassoon.

I prefer his writing to that of Dashiell Hammett.

Oh definitely. I like Hammett, but in terms of flat-out writing Chandler has him by a million miles.

SLH916, I didn't know that part of his writing, that's quite astounding, given what he wrote later.
A good read is Chandler's correspondance. The man is really lucid on his experience in Hollywood and he's struggling trying to make a decent living with his works. Quite pathetic in certain moments but a good inside look at his life and his works.

Thanks. I haven't read his correspondence. So I guess that I still have more of him to discover.

I'm struck by this two voices. The voice of the literary analyst:

Everything a writer learns about the art or craft of fiction takes just a little away from his need or desire to write at all. In the end he knows all the tricks and has nothing to say.

And the voice of the author of his fiction:

From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.

Which one would you rather go out to dinner with?