Raymond Chandler. Later Novels and Other Writings (Library of America edition). 1995.

Hooray for the Library of America.

This volume contains The Lady in the Lake, which I had already read in the Chandler Omnibus, the later novels, the screenplay for Double Indemnity (which I skipped--after the Vollman Reader I may never try to read another screeplay--but it's a good movie), and some essays on murder mysteries and writing in Hollywood that failed to engage me.

The Little Sister (1949)

Chandler's work from this novel on is considered substandard by the editor of the Chandler OmnibusI>. I find myself in agreement with this assessment from the first paragraph on. There are lines that are meant to be sharp that are instead flat and baffling. There are scenes in which it is unclear who the characters are. The plot remains obscure long after it has been revealed, and the reader is not inclined to care, as there isn't much at stake in knowing exactly which rat screwed which. On the other hand, the depression that seems to infuse both the protagonist and the author has some literary substance, and the depiction of Los Angeles is about as cynical as you are likely to find. The man who invented neon, Marlowe grumbles, deserves acclaim for creating something out of nothing. By extension, this holds true for perhaps the entire desert city.

The Long Goodbye (1953)

Chandler's longest novel opens not with a client but with--unexpectedly--a friendship. Marlowe's first? So for the first time we are asked to follow not a mystery but... the character. The writing is not as sharp as in the earlier novels, nor as drunk as The Little Sister. Two of the characters are alcoholic to a degree that is more sad than sinister. One of them is a commercial writer who doesn't believe in himself. Marlowe is living large, in a house with television and music. So much money has been thrown at him that his involvement in the plot is gratis, voluntary. There is the usual use of the word "usual," and the usual promiscuous women, described with more than the usual venom. There are more descriptions of insects, weather, and chess. But there are passages where the writing seems tired, as if a Chandler parody would have more spark. A few odd lapses in point-of-view take us out of Marlowe's mind and give me the impression that the author is becoming alienated from his character. Marlowe also loses his virginity, in a casual, tender, satisfying encounter with a woman he does not despise. Surprises abound.

If the differences in style reflect changes in the author's life, the author must find himself with money, invitations to elitist parties, and an obsession with alcoholism. It seems as though Chandler, who starting writing for money when destitute, is now rich and famous, doubts he deserves it, and is relapsing into the alcoholism that will claim his life as he goes through motions he no longer enjoys to crank out another bestseller he doesn't need. He wants to be seen as he is: sad.

The first time I read this novel, it was nourishing, but it was an open question whether I would feel that way if I had not read the others first, as this slower, more thoughtful book served as a relief from the tough compression of the first four and the clumsy anger of the fifth (The Little Sister). The second time I read it, I was impatient for it to end. The plot accumulates the typical chess-problem complexity, more trouble to unravel than it seems worth, given the absence of any worthy characters or motivations.

Playback (1958)

Forgettable. I forgot to write a book view upon finishing it last week, and it's already too late.

13 April, 2006