[D]efinitely [a] classic [piece] of American literature worthy of a second or even first tier position in the pantheon. [...] John commented on some parallels between Chandler and William Gibson (one of my perennial favorites), citing the former as a major and obvious influence on the latter. [...] I agree with John that Chandler’s influence on Gibson is apparent though I think they are going after far different goals as writers: Case is the illegitimate son of the illegitimate son of Philip Marlowe and though they’re living in the same neighborhood, headed in opposite directions on the same street.

Or maybe it makes more sense to compare Marlowe with Hammett's Sam Spade? Marlowe as the teeth-clenched pragmatist to Sam Spade's hopeless romantic? Or maybe that's just Marlowe's LA to Spade's San Francisco?

more: [http://blog.founddrama.net/2007/06/ra...]

I've read Dashiell Hammett and thoroughly enjoyed him, but had not read Chandler until now. He lived up to my expectation of the use of jargon (wiper for hired killer, beezer for nose, flattie for police officer, etc.) and enjoyed reading about what life was like in Los Angeles in the 1930s, at least according to Chandler.

At over 1100 pages, it took a while to get all the stories and novels read, but was worth the effort. Included in this tome was a chronology of Chandler's life (where I learned he and Hammett met only once, at a dinner in 1936 for contributors to the magazine Black Mask), notes on the text, from whence came the jargon interpretations above, and other notes.

I probably would have enjoyed this even more had I had more familiarity with Los Angeles. Part of my preference for Hammett is due to the setting in San Francisco, which I know much better than Los Angeles.

Nonetheless, a very good read and one that will remain in my library for future re-reading.

A collection of Chandler's short stories. Atmospheric and dense, I felt like I should be reading them in a dingy bar while drinking scotch. Favorite story was Pearls are a nuisance.

Ooh that detective Marlowe is good.

I just picked up a copy of this edition, happy new year to me.

Along with a dozen stories, this edition includes The Big Sleep, Farewell, My Lovely and The High Window. The stories are quickly familiar--friendless shamus sets off to solve case of either blackmail or stolen pearls (seriously, you’d think he’d at least vary the gems); he gets on by being disarmingly open with all but the key facts, but is too hard boiled for anyone to fully trust him. Story ends in a big shootout in which friendless shamus is miraculously spared. It’s in the novels, though, that he hits his stride. The shamus is the same guy, now named Marlowe, but the plots are more elegant and layered, taking full advantage of an interesting moment in crime--post-prohibition with the bootlegging infrastructure still in place, looking for a new racket and new contraband to keep it in business. The cynical exchanges and piercing descriptions don’t let up and it didn’t take long for me to realize that Chandler is S.J. Perelman with a mystery to solve. Either one of them could have written “From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made to be seen from thirty feet away.” or “She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket.” I’ve barreled on to volume two, knowing it means I will soon have no new Chandler novels in my future. Pre-Chandler this may have made me sad, but now, hell, I’m not going to get all soft about it.