★★★☆☆½

\\n   “I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn’t care who knew it.” \\n

Yeah, so what? Do you want a medal or something? Sorry to tell you, Phil, but for the rest of us poor working-class folks, that's basically the norm. Well, maybe not as smooth as a razor, but come on, it's not even noon and you're boasting about being sober?

Sheesh! Well, at least now I know who to blame for all those hard-drinking, wisecracking private investigators that came after.

But, it's really not a surprise that future authors would try to imitate this guy - he's the very essence of cool. And this story just drips with style - an even more impressive feat considering it's a first novel written way back in 1939.

The Big Sleep is the novel that started it all, introducing the legendary Los Angeles private investigator Philip Marlowe. The novel begins when Marlowe is hired by General Sternwood, an elderly, paralyzed millionaire, to look into a blackmailer who has his claws into the General's youngest daughter. As they discuss the details of the case, it becomes quite clear that the General is also worried about the missing husband of his oldest daughter. While he doesn't specifically hire Marlowe to find the husband, he sort of leaves it unspoken.

What follows is a surprisingly twisty tale involving blackmail, pornography, gambling, and multiple murders. With a cast full of criminals, and two young daughters, “still in the dangerous twenties,” and enough double and triple crosses to make your head spin, it's really no wonder Phil drinks so much.

I can't really fault Marlowe too much for bending the rules and working outside the law either - at one point even covering up a murder scene to serve his purposes. It's not that he's immoral; it's more that he's only looking out for his client.

Anyway, the good news is that the writing was great - at times very quotable. The bad news is that the mystery was overcomplicated. It was all a bit too convoluted for my liking, and the ending especially was rather weak. I couldn't help but feel like I was reading a couple of different stories haphazardly put together. A quick search on Wikipedia confirmed that was indeed the case, and I have to say, it shows. There were also a few overly descriptive sections in the beginning, but those seemed to decrease as the story got going.

Look, there's no doubt that The Big Sleep was a hugely influential work that set the tone for many noir detective stories to come, but I'm sorry, I don't grade based on a curve.

3.5 stars - A clear case of style over substance.

\\n   “You’re as cold-blooded a beast as I ever met, Marlowe. Or can I call you Phil?”
“Sure.”
“You can call me Vivian.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Regan.”
“Oh, go to hell, Marlowe.”\\n

Read as part of another Non-Crunchy Cool Classic Buddy Read.


One advantage of a long shelf life is the abundance of time to accumulate a large collection of dust jackets. Here are a few of my favorites:

**"The Unforgettable Philip Marlowe"**

UNO CHE LAVA LA BIANCHERIA SPORCA DEGLI ALTRI



I read this book many years ago when I was starting to realize a long-nurtured dream. It's a good reason to keep it in my heart, but of course, not the only one. Before the memory even, it's beautiful and precious. In its own way, it's a true masterpiece.



Eterni e indimenticabili, Humphrey Bogart e Lauren Bacall



Noir, in hard boiled version. It introduces Philip Marlowe, the archetype of the private detective, the prototype of the private eye. Marlowe is tough and idealistic, a dreamer steeped in disenchantment, lonely and disillusioned, honest and loyal, stubborn and bold. His relationships with women are complex. They seem to fall at his feet, yet he doesn't seem to like it much. He concedes reluctantly, is romantic and sentimental. He's controversial, ironic, cutting, brutal, but always melancholy. For example, when Marlowe-Bogart asks Bacall: Cos'hai che non va?, and she replies: Niente che tu non possa sistemare. He's a hero who's not really a hero, a failure who always wins, solves all the cases but justice never truly triumphs, and his disenchantment grows. Every joy is choked in his glass because the world just can't seem to change. The world is rotten and corrupt. His only defenses are a pair of comfortable shoes, lots of legwork (and driving), and a sharp tongue (for those dialogues!). He's a heavy smoker and a good drinker, incorruptible, without stain and without fear, a knight of the 20th century.



1947: ”The Lady in the Lake” di Robert Montgomery, regista e protagonista nei panni di Marlowe. Il film è tutto girato in soggettiva, dal punto di vista del narratore e protagonista Marlowe, che si vede solo tre volte, sempre riflesso su uno specchio, a inizio, metà e fine film.



I read it, or rather, I have read it, with tenderness because I felt Marlowe close, like a friend, with admiration because he's better than me, but also with compassion because someone is always stomping on him and women often betray him. The evil he fights against is stronger than him.



The Big Sleep was published in 1939, and seven years later it was adapted to the screen, bringing together a wonderful trio: director Howard Hawks, screenwriter William Faulkner (along with Leigh Brackett and Jules Furthman), and protagonist Humphrey Bogart. And of course, there was also The Look, Lauren Bacall, who two years earlier had crossed paths with Bogart in her debut film, To Have and Have Not. Just by saying Anyone got a match?, she became a star instantly.



Robert Mitchum è stato Marlowe in Farewell My Lovely-Marlowe, il poliziotto privato, 1975, regia di Dick Richards, e nel 1978, diretto da Michael Winner, che spostò l’azione a Londra, in The Big Sleep-Marlowe indaga. Preferisco nettamente il primo



The plot is as paradigmatic as the protagonist. It's so convoluted that it's difficult to summarize, and one wonders how Marlowe manages to untangle the mess. We're in Los Angeles in the late 1930s. Marlowe narrates in the first person, and it couldn't be otherwise. He has too much personality to be told by a third-person narrator, no matter how excellent Chandler is (a great page-worker who read and reread, corrected, and was obsessive about the care of his style). The opening is striking: Ero ordinato, pulito, ben raso e sobrio, e non me ne importava che la gente se ne accorgesse. Sembravo il figurino dell'investigatore privato elegante. Andavo a far visita a un milione di dollari.



The Long Goodbye, 1973, regia di Robert Altman, Elliott Gould nei pani di Marlowe. Nel cast anche Sterling Hayden



Our hero is hired by an elderly millionaire to solve an attempted blackmail. The investigations soon reveal a gambling game (trivialities), a traffic in pornographic publications (criminal at the time), and after the first murder, two more quickly follow for a total of three deaths, drugs (illegal then as now), and homosexuality. A real mess. But does it matter to follow the plot and solve the case with Marlowe? For me, nothing. What matters to me is him and his sarcasm that hides a broken soul, the dark ladies he meets, the atmosphere.



Icona



According to the authoritative IMDb, Philip Marlowe has appeared on screen 23 times, the first in 1945 (Dick Powell), the most recent in 2012. Almost eighty years have passed since the beginning of his cinematic career, but Marlowe is still dapper. Among the many, I like to remember what I think is his most accurate version, when he is impersonated by Robert Mitchum; his most rebellious version in The Long Goodbye by Robert Altman, interpreted by an unforgettable Elliott Gould; and that strange 1947 experiment, with Robert Montgomery as director and lead actor, titled The Lady in the Lake (one of Chandler-Marlowe's best novels, along with The Big Sleep, the already mentioned The Long Goodbye, The High Window, and Farewell, My Lovely), entirely shot in subjective perspective, an attempt that was supposed to make the viewer identify with the protagonist, but which instead turned out to be rather jarring and engaging. Let's not forget that Marlowe is also the protagonist of the beautiful novel by Osvaldo Soriano, Triste, solitario y final.



Merchandising



Non m'importa se i miei modi non le piacciono. In confidenza, non piacciono neanche a me: ci piango su spesso, specialmente durante le lunghe sere d'inverno.



Raymond Chandler

This is you and this is also the office of Philip Marlowe Raymond Chandler. Read it and enjoy the text of Qasem Heshmat Nezhad.

I said, "Can't you make a decision?"

He wrinkled his forehead and put a cigarette between his lips. In a soft, hoarse voice, he said, "I don't think I know you."

"Marlowe is my name. The guy you've been trying to follow for a day or two."

"I'm not following anyone, Doctor."

"This is what your cold is doing. Maybe you don't have his skin. Voluntary. Now I'm going to the coffee shop around the corner to have breakfast, orange juice, ham and eggs, toast, honey, three or four cups of coffee and a toothpick. Then I want to go up to my office on the seventh floor that I just built in front of you. If there's something bothering you that's beyond your tolerance, give it a few slaps and throw it out."

...

I said, "You've been following me for a day or two. Just like a young bachelor who's trying to pick up a girl and doesn't have the guts to ask for a dance. Maybe an insurance salesman. Maybe a guy named Joe Blow with a college degree. Maybe a lot of them, but in our business, there aren't many of them."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. He said quickly, "Oh my God, how could you know this?"

"I have second sight. Spit it out and get it out of your system. I don't have all day."

...

I showed a stern expression. "You can tell the police everything without a bribe, Harry. These days, they have a good meat grinder for properties. Even if you're this hairy and wild, you're still an agent alive and present."

He said, "The test is free. I'm not that delicate and orange."

"The agent should have something that I didn't notice."

"He has a secret. Secret. I also have a secret. All of us have secrets. We sell each other for a dime. Okay. Let's see if you can force me to sell it?" He reached out for another one of my cigarettes. He put it between his lips carelessly and lit it with a match the way I do, didn't flick it twice with his fingernail and inhaled deeply. Regular clouds of smoke blew out and he lost himself in my eyes, a strange little man who I could have shaken up. A little man in the world of big men. There was something in him that fascinated me.

In a monotone, he said, "I didn't come here on the cuckoo's nest. I came here and my word was like a single note. The price is the same without age or sex. I came here to this air to find out if I would get a yes or no answer, man to man. Now are you going to make a mess of my name?" Have some shame on yourself."

I read this particular book a few years ago. However, it is only now that I am adding my review to Goodreads.

How could one possibly not have an affection for a classic mystery of the "whodunit" variety penned by a much-loved author from the past? Moreover, this was an era when it was the traditional police procedurals that were employed to solve the cases. Additionally, the manner in which the characters spoke back then was truly fascinating.

Once you have finished reading this book, it would be a great idea to pick up the old Humphrey Bogart movie and some popcorn. Then, simply sit back and enjoy the entire experience. It is indeed extremely worthwhile!

I have a deep affection for reading crime novels from the past. The hard boiled noir genre is truly captivating. This week, I will be watching the Bogie & Bacall noir film, which I'm certain will bring the book to life in a vivid and exciting way.

The slang, the vernacular, and even the specific language used in "Go ---- Yourself" are all representative of that era. It's fascinating to see how these elements add authenticity and charm to the story. I particularly love the descriptions presented from Marlowe's point of view. He is edgy, intelligent, and manipulates all the other characters as if they were mere pieces on a chess board or in a shell game.

If one doesn't view this as a period piece, they may be quite shocked at how women are treated in the story. Sadly, this was a reality of that time, and unfortunately, such treatment still occurs in some form today. However, despite this, the female characters in the novel intrigued me. Their complex personalities and roles added another layer of depth to the narrative.

Overall, this novel was a great deal of fun to read. It offered a unique glimpse into a bygone era and kept me engaged from start to finish.

Annotating a classic is truly a remarkable way that not only compels me to purchase it but also to read it all over again.

The experience is rather like having a buddy read, but with a twist. Imagine if your buddy was a highly enthusiastic Wikipedian, constantly bombarding you with information you never knew you didn't know.

Occasionally, this can go a bit too far. I could sense the excitement building up in our three wonderful annotators when they began defining words like jalopy, highball, chivalry, croupier, and rake. Rake? Yes, it's "the long L- or T-shaped stick that the croupier uses to sweep chips across the table." I might have been tempted to blue-pencil those definitions.

However, I absolutely adored the photos, maps, 1930s adverts, pulp magazine covers, and so on. (What did lounging pyjamas look like in 1935? Turns out they looked rather dreadful.) And I especially loved the mini-essays on various topics such as casual racism.

As with much of American literature, the reader is confronted with the challenge of reading works that are deeply flawed, yet are also the products of a racist and deeply flawed society. This challenge emerges not only in canonical works by authors like Jack London, Ezra Pound, and Ernest Hemingway but also in most early crime fiction.

Or the ambiguous mortality of Philip Marlowe (is he really a knight errant?); or the significant differences between the book and the famous Bogart/Bacall movie; the common crime novel trope of the descent into hell; and finally, the most curious question of all.

Because when the last mournful, wry page is turned, and the smoke clears and the mirrors are put away, a discombobulating feeling creeps up on the reader. What exactly does Philip Marlowe achieve in The Big Sleep? And the answer is (spoiler alert) not that much. Everything that occurs – a blackmails b, x shoots y, z kidnaps j, j escapes and shoots m, b kisses c – would have happened even if Philip Marlowe had never heard of General Sternwood and his two crazy daughters. Marlowe might as well have stayed in bed.

In conclusion, I'm delighted to report that a reread of The Big Sleep is a truly delightful experience. The femmes are as fatale as an autopsy, the similes still startle like a butcher's kindness, and the plot still doesn't make too much sense to me. The death of the chauffeur remains famously unexplained. (Chandler didn't know who did it.) But it's not for the plot that we read Chandler.

And no matter how many dead bodies litter these pages, Raymond Chandler will always be alive and well, living in L.A. in the late 1930s.

****

*Other annotated versions I own include Alice in Wonderland, Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Ulysses, and HP Lovecraft.

**Someone who contributes to Wikipedia, an online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, even those with less than stellar intelligence. But their edits don't usually last long. For example, when Jean-Luc Godard died on 13 September, I checked his entry to clarify something and came across the statement "He was an anti-semite all his life." What?? I noticed there was no source referenced, so I assumed it was the work of some idiot. When I checked back five minutes later, the statement had been deleted.

(Jean-Luc Godard channeling Peter Sellers)

***Blue pencils were used by editors in the pre-digital era to mark text that needed to be removed before printing.

****Errant in this phrase means "wandering," indicating that the knight is no longer bound to one feudal lord. He is free to go forth and seek adventure. Philip Marlowe blah blah blah. Blah blah blah.

*****This is a rather complex story. How about this – the principal screenwriter was William Faulkner, yes, that very same guy. The other interesting fact is that the movie was filmed in 1944 but was held back from release because Warners wanted to release some war pictures first. During that time, Bogart and Bacall became Hollywood's Hottest Couple [TM], so Warners brought them back and shot some additional scenes with them to include in the movie, which was then released in 1946. But still, they didn't receive any Oscar nominations, nor did the movie. The Oscars truly suck.

There’s a captivating story about the movie version of The Big Sleep that I simply adore. Even if it might not be entirely true, it should be. Supposedly, while the screenwriters (William Faulkner & Leigh Brackett) were working on adapting the book, they found themselves stumped as they couldn't figure out who had killed one of the characters. So, they reached out to Raymond Chandler. After pondering for a while, Chandler confessed that he had completely forgotten to identify the killer of this person in the book and had no clue who did it. Since no one had complained about this flaw in the book, the movie simply repeated it and didn't bother to answer the question either.

And that's the essence of The Big Sleep. The plot is extremely complex, and it's quite evident that Chandler was making it up as he went along. Nevertheless, it remains a crime classic because the Philip Marlowe books weren't about the plot per se; they were all about the character and the atmosphere.

Marlowe is hired by the wealthy and dying General Sternwood to address the illegal gambling debts that his daughter Carmen has accumulated. The general's other daughter was married to a bootlegger named Rusty Regan who has vanished, and the old man was fond of Rusty and misses his company. Everyone that Marlowe interacts with assumes that he has been hired to find Rusty, and the detective soon gets entangled in a web of blackmail and several murders.

Chandler's first book is a true classic that would go on to redefine and reinvent the mystery genre. With Philip Marlowe, the prototype of the small-time smart-ass private detective with an unbreakable code of honor was established, and it has influenced countless fictional detectives ever since. Chandler's no-nonsense, razor-sharp cynical prose is still a joy to read.

The Big Sleep, The Debut of Philip Marlowe

Welcome to sunny L.A. It's sunny, that is, unless you're caught without an umbrella or you're dead. In 1939, a lot of people are oblivious to the fact that in a couple of years, many girls and boys will take the big sleep, courtesy of Hitler, Hirohito, and Mussolini - the axis of evil responsible for World War II, making a mockery of that "War to end all wars" slogan.

As for me, I wasn't born yet. After growing up from a mere glint in Mom's and Pop's eyes, I became a lawyer and spent twenty-eight years as an Assistant D.A., fighting crime and seeking justice. When I started out, I didn't have a gun or a badge. The D.A. eventually issued us badges, but getting a gun was up to us. Working for the State doesn't make you rich. I carried a Walther.380, though I never had to use it. Showing it once was enough, and I still have it.

I've seen more dead bodies than some morticians. They're not a pretty sight. Murder in my world was in vivid 3-D and Technicolor. I saw it, smelled it. Vick's only works for a while to mask the stench of sweet rot that soaks into your clothes and hair. I shaved my mustache after a particularly bad floater. Exhumations are a real experience - you should be there when they pop the top on a coffin. I'll take cremation any day. My crime world was only black and white at night, when Maglites and strobe flashes were the only sources of light, creating splashes of color here and there, like that little girl's red coat in Schindler's List.

By the time I got home, I had no desire to read about crime. I'd read my share of mysteries before law school - the nice, neat kind by Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, and Ngaio Marsh. The closest I got to P.I.s was Nero Wolfe by Rex Stout and Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle. I saw Humphrey Bogart and Robert Mitchum in "The Big Sleep". I loved the movies and the actors. But Raymond Chandler? I'd never read him until now.

That's the beauty of being in a good book group like "Pulp Fiction," a rag-tag bunch of noir and hard-boiled crime enthusiasts. They'll get you to read something you wouldn't even glance at in a bookstore. One of the moderators is a lady with a cattle prod - and she's not afraid to use it.

I caved in. Resistance was futile. "What? You've never read Raymond Chandler?" The unspoken word "cretin" was clear in the implication. Chandler, huh? I had one of those Library of America editions, but it was his later works. The Big Sleep was in the volume I didn't have. Figuring I'd be reading more Chandler based on the group's tone, I went to Amazon, did a search, and with one click, it was on its way. It was relatively painless.

A couple of days later, the postman rang twice at the door. It was raining. He was a nice postman and left the book on the dry porch out front. I have too many women in my life - it's complicated. There's my wife, my mother, and a pup named Tilley, part Jack Russell, wire-haired, and shiatsu. As the vet said, "What you have here is a gen-u-ine 'Jack S...', and if anyone ever tells you, you don't know Jack, just introduce 'em to your dog." I enjoy doing that, much to the chagrin of some defense lawyers. I also send their clients Christmas cards to the State Pen each year.

There's another fellow in the house besides me - Pepe, the supposed chihuahua who weighs around fourteen pounds. I told the Mum somebody forged his papers. At any rate, we're outnumbered. He's not much help. The Mum "fixed" him when he was just a tyke, and I don't think he's ever forgiven her. I wouldn't either.

The book arrived on December 23. I cracked the seal on a bottle of Gentleman Jack, had a stout one on the rocks, and began to read. I took my cigarettes, booze, and Tilley to the screened porch. It was warm for this time of year. Soon I was sipping Gentleman, blowing smoke rings up to the ceiling fan, and flipping pages so fast I didn't even feel the blister on my flipping finger.

In my real world, I don't have much use for P.I.s. Excluding a few former retired F.B.I. types and retired law enforcement officers, the P.I.s I've known were a sleazy lot in a sleazy business. I prosecuted a few of them for impersonating a law enforcement officer. It's amazing what you can get from a McClain's Catalog for Law Enforcement - those badges look real, but they're not.

Marlowe, however, is in the exclusive group that is the rare exception to the rule. He was an Investigator for the L.A. District Attorney and is still connected there through his friend and source of information, Investigator Bernie Ohls. Ohls will tip Marlowe to a case. In the business, Ohls is a good man to know, especially when you only charge $25.00 a day plus expenses. Ohls tips Marlowe that General Sternwood, who's worth three and a half million big ones, is in need of help.

Sternwood is old L.A. money. His estate home leaves no doubt about that. It's a good thing Marlowe wore his best suit and had diamond designs on his argyles when he came to call. Not only is the General old money, but he's also old and sick, looking as if he's going to take the big sleep soon. It may be hot in L.A., but the General is cold. Marlowe meets him in a greenhouse that is a humid, hot glass room full of orchids. It's too hot, but Marlowe doesn't argue about it.

Somebody's put the touch on the General for big dollars. He has two daughters who like life on the wild side. Marlowe's job is to put an end to the blackmail. It's happened more than once, and the General isn't happy. He also mentions that his son-in-law, whom he's quite fond of, is missing, but he doesn't ask Marlowe to find him. Marlowe figures this blackmail job is a test, and he takes the job as asked. The General could handle the cost, but Marlowe has his code of ethics. The cost of the service is the same, even if you're as rich as Croesus.

Before leaving the prestigious address, Marlowe meets the General's daughters. Vivian is long, svelte, lithe, and curved in all the right places. She wants to know why Daddy has hired Marlowe, but Marlowe isn't talking. He strictly keeps his client's requests confidential, which doesn't please Viv, who is clearly a woman who usually gets what she wants from a man. Daddy's second little darling is a cute little kitten named Carmen who bats her eyes like a coy little child, with that little curl in the middle of her forehead indicating she can be truly horrid. Tell her no, and she'll pout and stomp her foot. She thinks Marlowe's cute, and Marlowe thinks she's cute too, but he knows better than to play with that kitten.

Faster than you can say "gat" (that's a gun to you rookies), the body count starts to mount. Chandler's deaths are quick and clean, with not a whole lot of gore. A few quick pops from a gat, and a body hits the floor. There's an exclusive lending library operated by a man named Geiger, who lends out books of smut to a list of exclusive customers whose names he keeps encoded in a book. A fella named Joe Brody wants to take over the smut business, and his love interest works for Geiger. There's also another young man in a green jerkin who works for Geiger and is awfully upset when Geiger doesn't show up for work at their little bookstore.

The Sternwood family chauffeur drives off the end of Lido Pier about thirty miles outside of LA. It looks as if somebody sapped him. Was it murder or suicide? Then there's the gray man, Eddie Mars, who's operating a casino, openly protected by the local cops. Mars has his fingers in a lot of pies, most of which have nasty ingredients.

Marlowe is always in the middle of things as the bodies stack higher and higher. He's playing his cards close to the vest, not even tipping his old friend Ohls until he knows the whole story. Wiles, the DA, isn't happy that Marlowe's being stingy with the scoop, but like me, he looks the other way because he recognizes an honest man when he sees one. Never doubt that Marlowe is honest. He may not tell you everything he knows, but he's not going to tell you a lie. Bluff? Maybe. Lie? No. Let's just say he may omit what he considers to be an immaterial detail.

After the blackmail angle is resolved, the General does want to know where his son-in-law is. Marlowe takes the job and finds Regan, the old man's friend who kept him company when his own daughters wouldn't. Good? You bet it is, right down to the last page. There are hints of who Marlowe will become. We're barely getting to know him in his debut, but we do know he won't take money for a job he's not satisfied with. He plays chess by himself, solving complex chess problems. He's tough, can be violent when forced to, likes a good looking woman but knows better than to play with the wrong one. He's a man never at a loss for words, who doesn't mind telling you what you don't want to hear or refusing to tell what you don't need to know. He likes a good smoke and a good drink, works alone, and has no secretary - he doesn't need one. Every indication is that this tough shamus with a bent for honesty and honor will be the knight of Sunset Boulevard.

By my reckoning, with the complete Chandler on my shelves now, I've got about 2,400 more pages of good reading ahead of me. Mr. Chandler, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The Big Sleep holds a significant place in the literary world. It was Raymond Chandler's first novel, published in 1939, and it introduced us to the iconic Los Angeles private detective, Philip Marlowe. Chandler's work is renowned and is often ranked among the best of twentieth-century literature. In this novel, Marlowe's streetwise individualism and heroism shine through as he is hired by the wheelchair-bound General Sternwood. The general is being blackmailed, and he is also concerned about his increasing gambling debts and his two troublesome daughters, Vivian and Carmen. As Marlowe delves into the case, one can't help but wonder what could go wrong. Over the years, The Big Sleep has had an enduring appeal and is widely regarded as one of the best 100 novels. The title itself is a euphemism for death used by gangsters, and Philip Marlowe describes it in a rather poignant way.

\\n  

\\"What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell.\\"

\\n

Now, I am looking forward to enjoying the film noir adaptation of The Big Sleep from 1946, which stars the talented Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.

Once again, I delved into this truly well-written novel, and it left me in a state of awe. It's not so much the plot that captivates me, but rather the excellent and rather special writing by Chandler. Some writers have attempted to imitate him, yet they always end up being compared and found lacking. It's such great fun to read, and every few years, it's a pleasure to revisit. To be completely honest, when I read these books by Chandler, I hear and see Bogart. In my humble opinion, he is the ultimate Marlowe.

The rest of this review is from the last time, and I still stand by it.

"What did it matter where you lay since you were dead? - In a dirty sump or on a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that."

I had read this book several times quite some time ago in my native Dutch. This is actually the first time I've read it in its original language. And it's actually a really good read and doesn't feel as dated as some other books I've read from that era. It's also a strange experience to read a book that has been so brilliantly filmed with Bogart and Bacall. Sometimes, you mix up your memories between the book and the movie. I did behave myself and read the book, leaving the movie on the shelf so as not to throw me off. [I did watch "The Maltese Falcon," and I still have to read that one soon as well.]

So, the great PI Philip Marlowe takes on a case and is hired to solve a blackmail case that quickly evolves into a case involving some deaths and two seriously lost, or less flattering, crazy sisters who make life interesting and dangerous for the men around them. Then there's another blonde who gets away after having lost three men around her as well, but she remains unscathed.

Marlowe deals with dames, lowlifes, gunslingers, the police, and blackmailers. He emerges unharmed, but whiskey can't cure the feeling he's left with at the end of this tale.

The language and descriptive writing style make Chandler a classic when it comes to PI literature. Anybody reading this genre hasn't truly read anything unless he/she has read Chandler. And this book is well worth a 5-star rating. Read it first and then watch the movie. You'll be sorry if you don't.

Essential reading.

What an amazing style! Holy Moses! Chandler writes with a clear purpose: to immerse you right in the midst of the chaos. In The Big Sleep, he employs the economy of sharp and biting words that envelop Philip Marlowe, a detective who has witnessed the harsh and unforgiving world, armed with the street's unique lexicon.

Hardboiled? Without a doubt. But I have come across some hardboiled works that have been boiled down to a flavorless mush. This one, however, is full of rich flavor, both bitter and at times bittersweet.

You may have seen the movie, but now it's time to read the book. They share a similar style, yet the story varies enough to make each one independently enjoyable.

I was encouraged to read Chandler by one or two friends on Goodreads, and boy, am I glad I took their advice. However, since this is my first encounter, I'm going to put a hold on this review. The Big Sleep has a convoluted and complex plot, and Chandler's writing is so excellent that both merit further exploration to do them justice.

Here Comes Marlowe

Chandler's The Big Sleep was a milestone as it was his very first published novel. It introduced us to the unforgettable Philip Marlowe, the hardboiled private eye whom everyone adores. Marlowe, masterfully portrayed by Bogart in the movie of the same name, is a complex character. He is moody and taciturn, yet has his own unwavering sense of right and wrong.

This novel sets the stage for future works in a remarkable way. Marlowe finds himself thrust into the midst of protecting a crazy rich family. As he delves deeper, he discovers that the people behind the high walls and locked gates are involved in a web of gambling, blackmail, murder, and petty rages. It's a classic that has influenced decades of private eye stories.

Marlowe in this book is tough as nails. He refuses to be anyone's easy target or patsy. He is not the bumbling joker that so many private investigators in the fifties seemed to become. There are countless great lines in this novel that add to its charm. It's an absolute joy to read, even when you already know how the story will unfold in the end.