The High Window (1942) (Philip Marlowe #3)

I am reading all Raymond Chandler’s Marlowe novels in order. I was convinced I'd read them all, some multiple times, so I was delighted to discover that I had never read The High Window.

The highly original, slow-burn plot comes to the boil beautifully, and Elizabeth Bright Murdoch is a truly memorable Chandler character.

As usual, the dialogue is sharp, the descriptions vivid and evocative, and the resolution is clever and concise. The world weary Marlowe once again lifts a lid on secrets, lies, manipulation, blackmail and how the rich invariably manage to corrupt what they touch.

Another timeless Chandler masterclass.

4/5



Philip Marlowe's on a case: his client, a dried-up husk of a woman, wants him to recover a rare gold coin called a Brasher Doubloon, missing from her late husband's collection.

That's the simple part. It becomes more complicated when Marlowe finds that everyone who handles the coin suffers a run of very bad luck: they always end up dead. That's also unlucky for a private investigator, because leaving a trail of corpses around LA gets cops' noses out of joint.

If Marlowe doesn't wrap this one up fast, he's going to end up in jail - or worse, in a box in the ground....

This is the third book written by Chandler in his Philip Marlowe series. I read the first two books, THE BIG SLEEP, and FAREWELL, MY LOVELY a few years ago and really enjoyed both of those classic noir novels. In this one, Marlowe is hired by a wealthy Pasadena widow, Mrs. Elizabeth Murdock, to try and recover a very valuable missing gold coin called the Brasher Doubloon which she thinks was stolen by her daughter-in-law who has apparently left her husband, Elizabeth's son. Mrs. Murdock is a very controlling woman and does not like her daughter-in-law who worked as a dancer in a nightclub. She also has a secretary who she is very condescending to and who seems to have something she is hiding. A coin dealer had contacted Mrs. Murdock about the gold coin which led her to find it was missing. Marlowe is on the case and heads to see the coin dealer. Along the way, he is followed by another young private detective who doesn't seem to know what he is doing. And then the case gets more complicated with a couple of murders. So who committed them and how do they relate to the stolen coin? Marlowe of course is able to put together the clues which include blackmail, murder, and possible rape to get to the bottom of the case. As usual, all was not as it seemed.

I enjoyed this one almost as much as the first two novels. It was full of Chandler's witty dialogue and descriptions of Los Angeles in the 1940s. The dialogue was typical of some of the noir movies made at that time. In fact, HIGH WINDOW was made into a movie in 1947 called n  The Brasher Doubloonn starring George Montgomery as Marlowe. I'll be on the lookout for it! I also found out that a rare Brasher Doubloon recently sold at auction for over $9 million!

Haven't read all of the Marlowe tales - but apparently I'm working my way through.

This one goes down reeeeal smooth - almost like relaxing your way through a couple of Baileys Irish Creams (note to self: have yourself a BIC in the near future - and think of Marlowe). It could be the coziest Chandler I've read to date - well, cozy with some murder and mayhem thrown in.

The plot overflows with 'Nothing Is What It Seems', of course, featuring typically colorful mid- to lowlife types. As each one plays his or her angle, just about everyone is cranky, of course - even Marlowe, but he's the only one who has a welcome sense of humor about ...everything.

There's nothing like Marlowe's humor - whether he's describing his sudden surroundings ("The lobby looked like a high-budget musical. A lot of light and glitter, a lot of scenery, a lot of clothes, a lot of sound, an all-star cast, and a plot with all the originality and drive of a split fingernail.") or a floozy ("From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from thirty feet away.")

Marlowe gets to be romantic in this one - well, vaguely, still in Marlowe style. It's cute.

Chandler made me laugh a lot here ...as I sidestepped the bodies. This is one crackerjack read.

I once read in a mystery readers' newsletter that one invariably favors either Chandler or Hammett, and that the minute difference in character between the two preferences is an unbridgeable gap. I started with Hammett, and expected much more than I got. It was brusque and brooding, but its brusqueness lacked refinement: it was not laconic but merely truncated.

The brooding lacked the sardonic wryness which I had come to associate with crime fiction, and which I now find to be the flourished signature of Chandler, with his abstracted yet fitting metaphors. Chandler also misses the mark when it comes to laconic elegance, leaning more to the luridly painted scene.

Both have that slow-burn plot that is only saved by the aid of an insider (and coincidentally, the delivery of a small box containing the macguffin). Hence, I wouldn't call the plotting tight, exactly, as it hinges on a kind of authorial intervention to keep it moving; but it does move.

In the end, Chandler could have used a bit of Hammett's brusqueness, while Hammet could use a lot of Chandler's elegance, if you could call it elegance. The sort of elegance shown by a nondescript thug pulling and firing, killing without wasting a second bullet, and then disappearing into the wave of screaming, trampling patrons, leaving behind only a body amongst the broken glasses, spilled liquor, and ticket stubs. If there could be any elegance in a thing like that.

But that newsletter was right. I find myself drawn to Chandler and scorning Hammett. As with most such contests, it all comes down to the commas, in the end. In Chandler, they're a shrug, a wistful moment: a recognition that whatever you're about to say isn't what you wanted to say. In Hammett they're a stutter before a restatement.

Both show a recognition of something left unsaid, something sought for but in the end, something not found. That's the legacy of most crime novels: that even when you find what you were looking for, it doesn't change anything, and that need to look is still there.

And when a man searches for that thing and fails to find it, I find him more charming if he shrugs instead of stutters.

I last read The High Window about 30 years ago. It’s not quite as good as I remembered and not Chandler at the absolute peak of his form, but it’s still far better than most of the rest in this genre.

Marlowe is hired by an unpleasant but wealthy widow to recover a rare stolen coin without publicity or scandal. He discovers a complex but comprehensible plot involving blackmail, murder and some very dark dealings, which unfolds in a very satisfactory way. The chief pleasure, of course, is Chandler’s writing; his acute observation which illustrates his characters so well, the laconic voice, the mastery of simile and so on. Especially memorable for me is Eddie Prue, the crime boss’s enforcer with the frozen eye and unnatural height, who is “as thin as an honest alibi.” He is chillingly menacing and a masterclass in how to create a powerful presence with quiet, almost understated but brilliant prose. As always, his minor characters are excellently painted, especially Lieutenant Jesse Breeze.

There are some slightly jarring notes; the casual sexism and racism of the time is jarring now but reflects the then prevailing attitudes, there is a bit of pretty dated-sounding psychoanalysis and the whole thing isn’t quite as involving as some of his absolute classics (like The Lady In The Lake, for example). Nonetheless, I’m very glad to have read this again and may have to re-read some others again soon.

PI Marlowe keeps finding dead bodies. Private eyes aren't supposed to deal with murder. I like this Marlowe: playful and funny while cynical and hardnosed when needed. Echoes of Sam Spade are heard. The usual metaphors, snappy patter, and philosophical asides are intact. A fun, fast read.

2nd reading 5/29/20.

Had an overwhelming craving for a dose of Chandler's sordid urban poetry and opted for this, one of his novels that I've read only once. Promptly proceeded to devour it within the course of 36 hours. Usually not considered one of the highlights of Chandler's compact oeuvre, about halfway through it struck me how difficult it is to distinguish between "great" Chandler and the "merely good," as this is really terrific stuff.

But after finishing it became clear again why this isn't one of Chandler's finest moments: after a rip-roaring first half, it quickly and inexplicably goes very flat in the second. Less terse verbal shoot-outs between Marlowe and his jowly, draconian client Mrs. Murdoch, and less witty dealings with the quintessentially Chandler-esque mélange of colorful, perfectly delineated support characters. In their place are looooong explanatory chapters, typically with representatives of the law, which seem to drag on endlessly. Chandler himself chalked up to his disappointment with the novel to it having "no likable characters,"* which does become a problem upon the conclusion when (for me, at least), I couldn't muster up much interest who ended up being the good guys and who the bad.

But even if The High Window ultimately doesn't reach the heights of Chandler's best work, the fact remains that second-tier Chandler is still better than most.


*Quoted in Creatures of Darkness: Raymond Chandler, Detective Fiction, and Film Noir

Noir fiction at its best. The first-person narrative of Marlowe is the big draw for me in reading Chandler. And, Chandler is no ordinary writer. He's a superb writer of dialogue, description, and story. A real artist of the written word.

"From thirty feet away, she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away, she looked like something made up to be seen thirty feet away."

‘All right. Get on with it. I have a feeling you are going to be very brilliant. Remorseless, flow of logic and intuition and all that rot. Just like a detective in a book.’

I really like Philip Marlowe, I've decided. I want to look after him. He's actually a stand up guy. In this book I really preferred the simpler plot (not that Chandler's plots are ever terribly complicated). Has this one been made into a movie? As with all of this series, they all seem very cinematic to me, like half remembered movies from long ago. But I'm not sure if that's my imagination or faded memories.
So far in this series, Philip Marlowe has almost been an entity outside of Chandlers writing, and had an entertainment value almost divorced of the book. Oh yeah, Philip Marlowe hard boiled- noir- gumshoe- classic- wise-crackin- smart talking etc etc. even if you've never read one of the books. In this story I felt like I realised Marlowe is a real person and I was a little embarrassed to have been caught smirking at the idea of him.

He's an honest guy essentially. He treats people with respect when they deserve it-or at least when they don't deserve rudeness- he's committed to seeing justice, loyal to his clients, he can hold his own with tough crooks and won't take any nonsense. He is smart. As you can probably tell, I have a crush on a fictional character. It's not the first time! Where are his friends? He needs a love interest. I adore the fact he plays through champion chess games by himself, for leisure.
Recommended but start with book 1!

The third Philip Marlowe book, The High Window is still great Chandler, but it is perhaps a peg below the first two. It suffered from less excellent quotable prose and one liners, although it still has a few great ones: “From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet she looked something made up to be seen from 30 feet away."

Marlowe is hired to find the Brasher Doubloon, an expensive gold coin gone missing from a collection owned by an old widow from a dysfunctional rich family. A alcoholic old battleaxe of a widow who treats her mousy secretary badly, and her overprotected son Leslie.

An on to a cocktail of threats and blackmail, murders, tall blondes, tough homicide cops and a dental technician. A complex plot, lots of characters, and “Philip Marlowe -the shop-soiled Galahad” sorting things out in the end.

เล่มนี้ขาดเสน่ห์ต่างจากสองเล่มก่อนหน้ายังไงไม่รู้ แม้คำพูดถากถางจะยังคงมีบ้าง แต่ดันไม่มีมุขขำขันเลยสักตอน เล่มนี้เรียกได้ว่ามาแบบเคร่งขรึมอึมครึมแปลก ๆ

คดีนี้มีหลายอย่างพัวพันกัน จนไม่รู้จะโฟกัสตรงจุดไหนดี แต่สิ่งหนึ่งที่น่าชื่นชมแชนด์เลอร์อย่างหนึ่ง จากอ่านมาถึงสามเล่มแล้วสังเกตได้ว่า เขาสร้างตัวละครได้สมเป็นมนุษย์จิตใจสุดหยั่งถึงแท้ ๆ เชียว

In her Talking about Detective Fiction, P.D. James mentions writing style only briefly. She does write about the importance of setting and character. James also writes that a first person narrative is usually not as effective as a third person narrative and that the more popular novels seem to have a "Watson", a person to whom the detective relates what he has learned, possible propounding theories.

In other of Chandler novels, I have appreciated the setting because I grew up in Southern California and so it was somewhat familiar to me. The setting in this title was less familiar, but, then, I've been gone a long time and this was written a long time ago. My own familiarity aside, the streets, neighborhoods, the barren hillsides and canyons all contribute to the atmosphere of this novel.

For me, Chandler's writing style and characterization are almost synonymous. In the preface to his Trouble Is My Business, he says that writing his brand of pulp fiction is hard work. I'm very glad he made such an effort to get it good, to get it pitch perfect for his character. Marlowe does not have a "Watson."

This is first person narrative from the viewpoint of Philip Marlowe. We know him *because* of the writing style. Let's not pretend that Marlowe is a fellow you'd want to have over for dinner. He's rude and cynical and he doesn't think highly of people in general. His thoughts may be be racial or misogynistic. This is typical. From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from thirty feet away. Let us not pretend that no one thinks this way any more.

It is rare for me to give this genre 5-stars. I think this is an exception, but that may be because I've learned more about Chandler and about the genre.