This is Chandler’s fourth Philip Marlowe book. I had read The Big Sleep and The Long Goodbye several years ago. However, this one served as a reminder of just how cool these books are. They are well-crafted mysteries with a great noir vibe. Some people credit Chandler with inventing the genre. They are so much fun that I think I’m going to need to read them all.

I’m just going to go ahead and save a handful of lines I highlighted along the way.

She looked playful and eager, but not quite sure of herself, like a new kitten in a house where they don't care much about kittens.

Mr. Christopher Lavery was bound for the edge of the broad Pacific, to lie in the sun and let the girls see what they didn't necessarily have to go on missing.

Doctors are just people, born to sorrow, fighting the long grim fight like the rest of us.

\\"He was quite easy to hate,\\" she said emptily. \\"And poisonously easy to love. Women--even decent women--make such ghastly mistakes about men.\\"

Grayson was a long stooped yellow-faced man with high shoulders, bristly eyebrows and almost no chin. The upper part of his face meant business. The lower part was just saying goodby. He wore bifocals and he had been gnawing fretfully at the evening paper. I had looked him up in the city directory. He was a C.P.A. and looked it very inch. He even had ink on his fingers and there were four pencils in the pocket of his open vest.

\\"Police business,\\" he said almost gently, \\"is a hell of a problem. It's a good deal like politics. It asks for the highest type of men, and there's nothing in it to attract the highest type of men. So we have to work with what we get and we get things like this.\\"

We went back into the living room. Miss Fromsett poked her head out of her kitchenette and said she was making coffee, and did we want any. We had some coffee and sat around looking like people seeing friends off at the railroad station.

This is the ultimate end of the fog belt, and the beginning of that semi-desert region where the sun is as light and dry as old sherry in the morning, as hot as a blast furnace at noon, and drops like an angry brick at nightfall.

\\"I'm all done with hating you,\\" I said. \\"It's all washed out of me. I hate people hard, but I don't hate them very long.\\"

I have just re-read this for probably the 6th or 7th time.

It is still quite brilliant, and the pleasure of reading such a superbly written, engrossing and humane novel is undimmed by either familiarity or time. The plot is gripping, constantly pulling the reader in and keeping them on the edge of their seats.

The first person narration is an absolute masterclass in how to do it. Marlowe's voice is so distinct and engaging, making the reader feel as if they are right there with him, experiencing every moment.

I think Chandler was a truly great writer of English. Marlowe has the tough one-liners and smart comebacks that make him such a memorable character. But he also has wonderful, meditative passages on the human condition. These passages are so well done that you hardly notice them as being meditative.

Under the hard-boiled exterior, Marlowe is a moral and humane man with a deep understanding of people. This enables him to get to the heart of things and is what makes Chandler's books stand out as fine novels as well as first-class detective stories.

The other aspect of Chandler's sheer brilliance is his characterization. Everyone, even the most minor of characters, is drawn convincingly and with immense skill. They seem to paint their own portraits through what they say and do, rather than through a lot of laborious psychological theorising.

For example, Jim Patton, the Constable of a small mountain county, is a creation of genius. Few people will need an endorsement from me to persuade them to read a Chandler novel, but I would recommend this very warmly indeed. Plot, place and characters are all brilliantly done: it is, quite simply, superb.

When Philip Marlowe is assigned the task of tracking down a lady who has abandoned her husband, his intention is not to bring her back but rather to ensure her safety. Little does he know that this seemingly simple job will lead to a web of mysteries and complications.

Upon visiting their countryside house, Marlowe and the caretaker discover the caretaker's wife, who vanished at the same time as Marlowe's quarry, drowned in the lake. This finding gives rise to a series of new questions that Marlowe must answer.

Adding to the intrigue, a man who was supposedly set to marry the runaway wife dies of severe lead poisoning, further deepening the mystery and compelling Marlowe to engage in some serious detecting.

The story unfolds like a calm brook, with a mix of nasty killings, corrupt policemen, and some truly smart and likable officers. And there's Marlowe, being his wise-cracking self.

While the story and its conclusion may not be overly exciting, the solution does manage to address most of the questions. However, with Chandler, it's the journey that truly captivates. His vivid descriptions and Marlowe's witty remarks are a joy to read.

Overall, it's a brilliant book, mainly due to the engaging prose. Sadly, Chandler only wrote six Marlowe novels, but they are all well worth the time, especially when read in English (or American, as some might prefer). It has been a while since I last revisited this novel, and I'm pleased to find that it's even better than I remembered.