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This time around Marlowe runs into a drunken writer, a wounded beauty and a lot of headaches. Narrated by Elliot Gould.
MY GRADE: B plus.
MY GRADE: B plus.
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Philip Marlowe #6
The Long Goodbye
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Ed Bishop stars as Philip Marlowe in this atmospheric BBC Radio 4 dramatisation of Raymond Chandler's novel about the cynical, world-weary, wise cracking shamus whose honesty in a dishonest world sent him down the mean streets again and again.
2 pages, Audio CD
First published January 1,1953
This edition
- Format
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2 pages, Audio CD
- Published
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September 20, 2004 by BBC Worldwide
- ISBN
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9780563524748
- ASIN
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056352474X
- Language
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English
Characters More characters
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Candy
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Philip Marlowe
Philip Marlowe is a fictional character created by Raymond Chandler. Marlowe first appeared under that name in The Big Sleep, published in 1939. Chandlers early short stories, published in pulp magazines like Black Mask and Dime Detective, featured ...
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Roger Wade
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Eileen Wade
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Sewell Endicott
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Terry Lennox
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About the author
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Raymond Thornton Chandler was an American-British novelist and screenwriter. In 1932, at the age of forty-four, Chandler became a detective fiction writer after losing his job as an oil company executive during the Great Depression. His first short story, "Blackmailers Don't Shoot", was published in 1933 in Black Mask, a popular pulp magazine. His first novel, The Big Sleep, was published in 1939. In addition to his short stories, Chandler published seven novels during his lifetime (an eighth, in progress at the time of his death, was completed by Robert B. Parker). All but Playback have been made into motion pictures, some more than once. In the year before his death, he was elected president of the Mystery Writers of America.
Chandler had an immense stylistic influence on American popular literature. He is a founder of the hardboiled school of detective fiction, along with Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain and other Black Mask writers. The protagonist of his novels, Philip Marlowe, like Hammett's Sam Spade, is considered by some to be synonymous with "private detective". Both were played in films by Humphrey Bogart, whom many consider to be the quintessential Marlowe.
The Big Sleep placed second on the Crime Writers Association poll of the 100 best crime novels; Farewell, My Lovely (1940), The Lady in the Lake (1943) and The Long Goodbye (1953) also made the list. The latter novel was praised in an anthology of American crime stories as "arguably the first book since Hammett's The Glass Key, published more than twenty years earlier, to qualify as a serious and significant mainstream novel that just happened to possess elements of mystery". Chandler was also a perceptive critic of detective fiction; his "The Simple Art of Murder" is the canonical essay in the field. In it he wrote: "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."
Parker wrote that, with Marlowe, "Chandler seems to have created the culminating American hero: wised up, hopeful, thoughtful, adventurous, sentimental, cynical and rebellious—an innocent who knows better, a Romantic who is tough enough to sustain Romanticism in a world that has seen the eternal footman hold its coat and snicker. Living at the end of the Far West, where the American dream ran out of room, no hero has ever been more congruent with his landscape. Chandler had the right hero in the right place, and engaged him in the consideration of good and evil at precisely the time when our central certainty of good no longer held."
Chandler had an immense stylistic influence on American popular literature. He is a founder of the hardboiled school of detective fiction, along with Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain and other Black Mask writers. The protagonist of his novels, Philip Marlowe, like Hammett's Sam Spade, is considered by some to be synonymous with "private detective". Both were played in films by Humphrey Bogart, whom many consider to be the quintessential Marlowe.
The Big Sleep placed second on the Crime Writers Association poll of the 100 best crime novels; Farewell, My Lovely (1940), The Lady in the Lake (1943) and The Long Goodbye (1953) also made the list. The latter novel was praised in an anthology of American crime stories as "arguably the first book since Hammett's The Glass Key, published more than twenty years earlier, to qualify as a serious and significant mainstream novel that just happened to possess elements of mystery". Chandler was also a perceptive critic of detective fiction; his "The Simple Art of Murder" is the canonical essay in the field. In it he wrote: "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."
Parker wrote that, with Marlowe, "Chandler seems to have created the culminating American hero: wised up, hopeful, thoughtful, adventurous, sentimental, cynical and rebellious—an innocent who knows better, a Romantic who is tough enough to sustain Romanticism in a world that has seen the eternal footman hold its coat and snicker. Living at the end of the Far West, where the American dream ran out of room, no hero has ever been more congruent with his landscape. Chandler had the right hero in the right place, and engaged him in the consideration of good and evil at precisely the time when our central certainty of good no longer held."
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Community Reviews
Rating(4.1 / 5.0, 98 votes)
5 stars
38(39%)
4 stars
35(36%)
3 stars
25(26%)
2 stars
0(0%)
1 stars
0(0%)
98 reviews All reviews
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Three-ish stars for storytelling that’s complex and layered with reflection and social commentary, on a platform of direct, uncomplicated language and a singular voice that helped define the steely private eye navigating a dark, gritty world.
The powerful writing and, in historical context, the story are certainly worth more than three stars. But for me, the rear view mirror of many decades of shifting context greatly diminishes the effect.
As deft, iconic, and commendable as the writing is, it is of a time and doesn’t necessarily hold up as a contemporary read.
The snappy patter, armor of sarcasm, and hardened world view have been done, and overdone, so much that the real thing, the standard-setter, suffers at this point.
The how-many-varieties-of-tough-guy-can-I-shove-into-a-story approach was surely more appreciated seventy years ago than it is generations later.
This is a classic in the genre that I wanted to experience. So I did and now it’s done. I appreciate Chandler the writer and the writing, and find he’s better left on the shelves of crime fiction history than on my reading list today.
The powerful writing and, in historical context, the story are certainly worth more than three stars. But for me, the rear view mirror of many decades of shifting context greatly diminishes the effect.
As deft, iconic, and commendable as the writing is, it is of a time and doesn’t necessarily hold up as a contemporary read.
The snappy patter, armor of sarcasm, and hardened world view have been done, and overdone, so much that the real thing, the standard-setter, suffers at this point.
The how-many-varieties-of-tough-guy-can-I-shove-into-a-story approach was surely more appreciated seventy years ago than it is generations later.
This is a classic in the genre that I wanted to experience. So I did and now it’s done. I appreciate Chandler the writer and the writing, and find he’s better left on the shelves of crime fiction history than on my reading list today.
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People. They pass through your life, your mind, your heart, bundled in their own worlds with their wants and needs and feelings. And they'll tangle you up and drag you with and leave you with a lump in your throat and a weight in your gut. That's the best case scenario. Worst case scenario you end up broken, in jail, dead. Philip avoids the latter case with an insight into the human condition so instinctive and accurate it is frankly terrifying. Doesn't help him at all with the former though.
Besides all that, he is a singular character with singular motives. He would have been an excellent knight in the medieval ages, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't have been drawn to such an auspicious living. His inherent moral code is tempered by a fixation on the seedier side of living. He craves the city, a filthy machine that rests on a vicious underbelly and is topped with a slathering of sickening gilt. Guilt? Same difference. He lives to solve the problem without regard to both those he affects and those who affect him; he must have an indifference to life made of steel, if not a mental complex the size of the city he resides in. I'd have to read more into him to find out. Which I think I shall.
All discussion of the main character aside, the crime was tantalizing, the plot moved at a compulsively readable place, and you have to love witty banter, even if much of it was bluffing and bullshit. That's why we have Marlowe though, to carve through all the things people say and find what they actually mean. You know, I think he also would've made a cool English professor. I'm not sure how well street smarts would have translated to character and plot analysis, but humans really haven't changed that much in the past millennium or so. Different words, but our motives and thought patterns still follow stupidly predictable ways for those who can see it. Raymond Chandler can definitely see it, and shows it to the rest of us in a way that leaves us craving more. There's no greater escape from the bullshit of your own life than through a novel that cuts through its own, and it is inherently addicting.
Besides all that, he is a singular character with singular motives. He would have been an excellent knight in the medieval ages, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't have been drawn to such an auspicious living. His inherent moral code is tempered by a fixation on the seedier side of living. He craves the city, a filthy machine that rests on a vicious underbelly and is topped with a slathering of sickening gilt. Guilt? Same difference. He lives to solve the problem without regard to both those he affects and those who affect him; he must have an indifference to life made of steel, if not a mental complex the size of the city he resides in. I'd have to read more into him to find out. Which I think I shall.
All discussion of the main character aside, the crime was tantalizing, the plot moved at a compulsively readable place, and you have to love witty banter, even if much of it was bluffing and bullshit. That's why we have Marlowe though, to carve through all the things people say and find what they actually mean. You know, I think he also would've made a cool English professor. I'm not sure how well street smarts would have translated to character and plot analysis, but humans really haven't changed that much in the past millennium or so. Different words, but our motives and thought patterns still follow stupidly predictable ways for those who can see it. Raymond Chandler can definitely see it, and shows it to the rest of us in a way that leaves us craving more. There's no greater escape from the bullshit of your own life than through a novel that cuts through its own, and it is inherently addicting.
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Triste, solitario y final
Il congegno narrativo – coppie scoppiate, ricconi e gansters, omicidi-suicidi, usa-europa-mexico, nuove identità - intrattiene ancora bene nonostante letto oggi sia un po’ scontato, ma questo è inevitabile perché qui siamo in presenza del canone del noir/hard boiled.
E’ Marlowe che ci rimane dentro. Abbastanza duro da navigare tra poliziotti rudi e di pochi scrupoli e pericolosi malavitosi. Cinico al punto giusto per non lasciarsi travolgere dagli eventi. Tenero e malinconico quando inizia o finisce un amore o un’amicizia.
Dal suo rifugio sulle alture di Lauren Canyon osserva la grande LA.
“Laggiù, nella notte intessuta di mille delitti, individui morivano, venivano mutilati, tagliuzzati da schegge di vetro, schiacciati contro i volanti delle automobili o sotto le ruote di pesanti veicoli. Altri individui venivano percossi, derubati, strangolati, violentati e assassinati. Altri individui ancora erano affamati, ammalati, annoiati, disperati, tormentati dalla solitudine, o dal rimorso, o dal terrore, o dallʼira, erano crudeli, febbricitanti, squassati dai singhiozzi. Una città non peggiore delle altre, una città perduta e corrotta e colma di vacuità. Tutto dipende dalla posizione in cui ci si trova, dagli interessi personali. Io non ne avevo alcuno. E me ne infischiavo.”
Frequentatore di bar in penombra e silenziosi, in cerca del dolce stordimento dell’alcool.
“Mi piace gustare adagio il liquore. Il primo sorso tranquillo del pomeriggio in un bar silenzioso... è stupendo.”
Fui dʼaccordo con lui.
“Lʼalcool è come lʼamore,” disse. “Il primo bacio è magico, il secondo intimo, il terzo unʼabitudine. E poi si spoglia la donna.”
Un addio, dopo una notte d’amore ed il rifiuto di una fuga a Parigi.
Ci dicemmo addio. Seguii con lo sguardo il tassì fino a quando non fu scomparso. Salii la rampa di scale, entrai nella camera da letto e disfeci il letto completamente e lo rifeci. Vʼera un lungo capello nero su uno dei cuscini. Vʼera un grumo di piombo nel mio stomaco.
I francesi hanno un modo di dire per situazioni del genere. Quei bastardi hanno un modo di dire per tutto, ed è sempre giusto.
Dirsi addio è un poʼ come morire.”
E l’addio finale all'amico.
“Avete avuto molto da me, Terry. In cambio di un sorriso, e di un cenno del capo e di un saluto fatto con la mano e di qualche minuto di serenità in un bar silenzioso, di quando in quando. È stato bello finché è durato. Arrivederci, amigo. Non vi dico addio. Vi dissi addio quando significava qualcosa. Vi dissi addio in un momento di tristezza e di solitudine, quando sembrava definitivo.”
Sarà anche l’addio di Chandler che dopo aver scritto il suo miglior libro, questo, produrrà poco altro, proverà il grande dolore per la perdita dell’amata moglie, si perderà sempre più nell’abisso dell’alcool e tenterà il suicidio prima di lasciarci qualche anno dopo.
Robert Altman, Nina Van Pallandt, Elliott Gould, nell'omonimo adattamento cinematografico (1973), non proprio fedele.
Sulle note di John Williams (“...It's too late to try When a missed hello Becomes the long goodbye”).
Il congegno narrativo – coppie scoppiate, ricconi e gansters, omicidi-suicidi, usa-europa-mexico, nuove identità - intrattiene ancora bene nonostante letto oggi sia un po’ scontato, ma questo è inevitabile perché qui siamo in presenza del canone del noir/hard boiled.
E’ Marlowe che ci rimane dentro. Abbastanza duro da navigare tra poliziotti rudi e di pochi scrupoli e pericolosi malavitosi. Cinico al punto giusto per non lasciarsi travolgere dagli eventi. Tenero e malinconico quando inizia o finisce un amore o un’amicizia.
Dal suo rifugio sulle alture di Lauren Canyon osserva la grande LA.
“Laggiù, nella notte intessuta di mille delitti, individui morivano, venivano mutilati, tagliuzzati da schegge di vetro, schiacciati contro i volanti delle automobili o sotto le ruote di pesanti veicoli. Altri individui venivano percossi, derubati, strangolati, violentati e assassinati. Altri individui ancora erano affamati, ammalati, annoiati, disperati, tormentati dalla solitudine, o dal rimorso, o dal terrore, o dallʼira, erano crudeli, febbricitanti, squassati dai singhiozzi. Una città non peggiore delle altre, una città perduta e corrotta e colma di vacuità. Tutto dipende dalla posizione in cui ci si trova, dagli interessi personali. Io non ne avevo alcuno. E me ne infischiavo.”
Frequentatore di bar in penombra e silenziosi, in cerca del dolce stordimento dell’alcool.
“Mi piace gustare adagio il liquore. Il primo sorso tranquillo del pomeriggio in un bar silenzioso... è stupendo.”
Fui dʼaccordo con lui.
“Lʼalcool è come lʼamore,” disse. “Il primo bacio è magico, il secondo intimo, il terzo unʼabitudine. E poi si spoglia la donna.”
Un addio, dopo una notte d’amore ed il rifiuto di una fuga a Parigi.
Ci dicemmo addio. Seguii con lo sguardo il tassì fino a quando non fu scomparso. Salii la rampa di scale, entrai nella camera da letto e disfeci il letto completamente e lo rifeci. Vʼera un lungo capello nero su uno dei cuscini. Vʼera un grumo di piombo nel mio stomaco.
I francesi hanno un modo di dire per situazioni del genere. Quei bastardi hanno un modo di dire per tutto, ed è sempre giusto.
Dirsi addio è un poʼ come morire.”
E l’addio finale all'amico.
“Avete avuto molto da me, Terry. In cambio di un sorriso, e di un cenno del capo e di un saluto fatto con la mano e di qualche minuto di serenità in un bar silenzioso, di quando in quando. È stato bello finché è durato. Arrivederci, amigo. Non vi dico addio. Vi dissi addio quando significava qualcosa. Vi dissi addio in un momento di tristezza e di solitudine, quando sembrava definitivo.”
Sarà anche l’addio di Chandler che dopo aver scritto il suo miglior libro, questo, produrrà poco altro, proverà il grande dolore per la perdita dell’amata moglie, si perderà sempre più nell’abisso dell’alcool e tenterà il suicidio prima di lasciarci qualche anno dopo.
Robert Altman, Nina Van Pallandt, Elliott Gould, nell'omonimo adattamento cinematografico (1973), non proprio fedele.
Sulle note di John Williams (“...It's too late to try When a missed hello Becomes the long goodbye”).
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An excellent 6th Philip Marlowe novel, this was excellently put together with an intriguing intricate plot that is bigger in scope and detail than previous Marlowe novels coming in at 450 pages. This moved along in a nice manner with great dialogue and humour which aids the well put together plot. Really enjoyable and highly recommended..
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Private investigator Philip Marlowe is 42 years old and does not exercise. His sport is chess yet he does not play against anybody. He just replays games of chess masters and solves chess puzzles. His brushes with danger and death he just narrates matter-of-factly. In one scene a rich, powerful, mean-spirited guy comes to his office. After some tough guy dialogue Marlowe slugs the visitor which made the latter double up in pain while his bodyguard--certainly armed--is just outside. When Marlowe later meets the bodyguard he insults him on his face. Yet they left Marlowe unharmed.
I remember watching an action film. There was a long sequence of running, jumping, fighting, shooting and car chases. Then there was a close-up shot of the handsome face of the same loner-type hero: his face was completely clean, he wasn't even sweating. All throughout the film, even in the scariest situation, his face did not reflect any stress or panic. The most he managed to do was to harden his jaws to reflect grim determination to conquer seemingly impossible odds. Or maybe just to hide his boredom during the film shoot.
Philip Marlowe is such a guy. Calm, stoic, self-assured and fearless. I remember, too, those Arab guys who crashed the planes during 9-11. They accomplished their gruesome task with the same sangfroid as the fictional heroes of films and novels.
Indeed, certitude erases fear completely. Those plane crashers had no doubt that the atomization of their earthly bodies will make them martyrs of the faith and will instantly transport them to Allah's Paradise where they will meet Muhammad with 40 beautiful virgins for each of them ready for distribution. The movie ass-kicking heroes do not sweat or panic because they know, beyond the shadow of doubt, that the director won't kill them no matter how perilous the situation the script puts them in. And Philip Marlowe, like all great characters in fiction, including James Bond himself, knows that in sequel upon sequel, for as long as the books sell, he shall be immortal and indestructible.
Towards the end of this novel, after the crimes had been solved and Marlowe had no more need for macho dialogues, the author finally rewards him naked in bed with a 36-year-old rich, beautiful woman. Then the reader finally realizes that this is not really a detective novel but a religious tract: it teaches that faith works. A firm belief in salvation-no-matter-what can make one live life to the fullest, without fear, and that in the end he shall reap all the pleasures of Paradise.
I remember watching an action film. There was a long sequence of running, jumping, fighting, shooting and car chases. Then there was a close-up shot of the handsome face of the same loner-type hero: his face was completely clean, he wasn't even sweating. All throughout the film, even in the scariest situation, his face did not reflect any stress or panic. The most he managed to do was to harden his jaws to reflect grim determination to conquer seemingly impossible odds. Or maybe just to hide his boredom during the film shoot.
Philip Marlowe is such a guy. Calm, stoic, self-assured and fearless. I remember, too, those Arab guys who crashed the planes during 9-11. They accomplished their gruesome task with the same sangfroid as the fictional heroes of films and novels.
Indeed, certitude erases fear completely. Those plane crashers had no doubt that the atomization of their earthly bodies will make them martyrs of the faith and will instantly transport them to Allah's Paradise where they will meet Muhammad with 40 beautiful virgins for each of them ready for distribution. The movie ass-kicking heroes do not sweat or panic because they know, beyond the shadow of doubt, that the director won't kill them no matter how perilous the situation the script puts them in. And Philip Marlowe, like all great characters in fiction, including James Bond himself, knows that in sequel upon sequel, for as long as the books sell, he shall be immortal and indestructible.
Towards the end of this novel, after the crimes had been solved and Marlowe had no more need for macho dialogues, the author finally rewards him naked in bed with a 36-year-old rich, beautiful woman. Then the reader finally realizes that this is not really a detective novel but a religious tract: it teaches that faith works. A firm belief in salvation-no-matter-what can make one live life to the fullest, without fear, and that in the end he shall reap all the pleasures of Paradise.
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I found an abridged version,a good thing too as the original length of nearly 400 pages would have tested my patience.
Prior to this,I had watched the movie version of Chandler's The Big Sleep,which despite the presence of Bogart and Bacall wasn't all that memorable.
Chandler reportedly called The Long Goodbye his best work.If that was the case,it dampens my enthusiasm for the rest of his books.
I liked it to start with,but as it progressed,it became increasingly convoluted.Philip Marlowe,private detective,resembles the private eyes I've frequently encountered in the books of James Hadley Chase.
Although the writing style is similar,the books of James Hadley Chase move at a much faster pace and are certainly not as convoluted.Chase was also a much more prolific author compared to Chandler.
Anyway,my first book by one of the pioneers of hardboiled pulp fiction didn't leave too great an impression.
Prior to this,I had watched the movie version of Chandler's The Big Sleep,which despite the presence of Bogart and Bacall wasn't all that memorable.
Chandler reportedly called The Long Goodbye his best work.If that was the case,it dampens my enthusiasm for the rest of his books.
I liked it to start with,but as it progressed,it became increasingly convoluted.Philip Marlowe,private detective,resembles the private eyes I've frequently encountered in the books of James Hadley Chase.
Although the writing style is similar,the books of James Hadley Chase move at a much faster pace and are certainly not as convoluted.Chase was also a much more prolific author compared to Chandler.
Anyway,my first book by one of the pioneers of hardboiled pulp fiction didn't leave too great an impression.
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I loved this book. Absolutely.
I'm not going into plot here, but if you want to know what little I'm comfortable with divulging about this novel, you can find it at the crime page of my online reading journal.
The Long Goodbye just might be my favorite Marlowe book yet. Loved The Big Sleep and The Little Sister, but this one trumps both of them. When I started reading this series, it was because I wanted to read Benjamin Black's new book The Black-Eyed Blonde: A Philip Marlowe Novel (which I got yesterday!), another Marlowe novel, and I wanted to see how his Marlowe stacks up to Chandler's, but I'd never read any Chandler. Since The Big Sleep, however, I've discovered that I genuinely love these old books; and before you say that they're too old to be relevant, think again. Reading pleasure is not all about new and contemporary -- especially considering that Chandler has been an influence on many authors on down the crime-writing line; he also, as far back as 1939, touched on many facets of social criticism that continue to have resonance in our modern world.
After reading and reporting on the five previous Marlowe novels, there's very little left for me to say about my favorite PI except for the fact that here his penchant for doing the right thing will turn into one of the most severe and personal betrayals of his career. However, it's really what Chandler says in and around Marlowe's work that I found most intriguing. He is no stranger to social criticism in these books, but here it's like he's also inserting much more of his personal life into the story. Everyone knows that Chandler was himself an alcoholic, and in this novel, alcoholism plays an extremely large and important role, with two alcoholic characters. One of them, the novelist Roger Wade, who admires F. Scott Fitzgerald, "the best drunken writer since Coleridge, who took dope," writes mass-appeal, popular historical books and is so drunk much of the time that he can't finish his latest one. Once he refers to himself as "a literary pimp." Through Wade, Chandler seems to be evoking his own emotional and other struggles with alcoholism as well as the whole writing biz. There is a most telling scene where Marlowe reads something "really wild" Wade wants him to get rid of before Mrs. Wade sees it (203-206), where Wade describes his ambivalence about drinking and writing. I must say, while I love all of the Marlowe novels, this one probably is Chandler at his ultimate finest.
I'm so loving this series, and I loved this book. The Long Goodbye appeals to my need for edge, for in-depth character study, for traces of social criticism, and my constant search for intelligently-written crime fiction. These books are, as I've said a number of times, some of the best literary works in the crime genre. If you have not yet made the acquaintance of Philip Marlowe, it's something you need to do and soon.
I'm not going into plot here, but if you want to know what little I'm comfortable with divulging about this novel, you can find it at the crime page of my online reading journal.
The Long Goodbye just might be my favorite Marlowe book yet. Loved The Big Sleep and The Little Sister, but this one trumps both of them. When I started reading this series, it was because I wanted to read Benjamin Black's new book The Black-Eyed Blonde: A Philip Marlowe Novel (which I got yesterday!), another Marlowe novel, and I wanted to see how his Marlowe stacks up to Chandler's, but I'd never read any Chandler. Since The Big Sleep, however, I've discovered that I genuinely love these old books; and before you say that they're too old to be relevant, think again. Reading pleasure is not all about new and contemporary -- especially considering that Chandler has been an influence on many authors on down the crime-writing line; he also, as far back as 1939, touched on many facets of social criticism that continue to have resonance in our modern world.
After reading and reporting on the five previous Marlowe novels, there's very little left for me to say about my favorite PI except for the fact that here his penchant for doing the right thing will turn into one of the most severe and personal betrayals of his career. However, it's really what Chandler says in and around Marlowe's work that I found most intriguing. He is no stranger to social criticism in these books, but here it's like he's also inserting much more of his personal life into the story. Everyone knows that Chandler was himself an alcoholic, and in this novel, alcoholism plays an extremely large and important role, with two alcoholic characters. One of them, the novelist Roger Wade, who admires F. Scott Fitzgerald, "the best drunken writer since Coleridge, who took dope," writes mass-appeal, popular historical books and is so drunk much of the time that he can't finish his latest one. Once he refers to himself as "a literary pimp." Through Wade, Chandler seems to be evoking his own emotional and other struggles with alcoholism as well as the whole writing biz. There is a most telling scene where Marlowe reads something "really wild" Wade wants him to get rid of before Mrs. Wade sees it (203-206), where Wade describes his ambivalence about drinking and writing. I must say, while I love all of the Marlowe novels, this one probably is Chandler at his ultimate finest.
I'm so loving this series, and I loved this book. The Long Goodbye appeals to my need for edge, for in-depth character study, for traces of social criticism, and my constant search for intelligently-written crime fiction. These books are, as I've said a number of times, some of the best literary works in the crime genre. If you have not yet made the acquaintance of Philip Marlowe, it's something you need to do and soon.
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