The Long Goodbye (Philip Marlowe, #6) By Raymond Chandler
Raymond Chandler Ð 7 summary
Down-and-out drunk Terry Lennox has a problem: his millionaire wife is dead and he needs to get out of LA fast. So he turns to the only friend he can trust: private investigator Philip Marlowe. Marlowe is willing to help a man down on his luck, but later Lennox commits suicide in Mexico and things start to turn nasty. Marlowe is drawn into a sordid crowd of adulterers and alcoholics in LA's Idle Valley, where the rich are suffering one big suntanned hangover. Marlowe is sure Lennox didn't kill his wife, but how many stiffs will turn up before he gets to the truth? The Long Goodbye (Philip Marlowe, #6)
Philip Marlowe a cynical shamus looks down at the parking lot of The Dancers Club, watching a drunk be put into his car a silver Rolls Royce, but the annoyed valet has trouble, the left leg refuses to be moved inside, instead remains firmly on the ground. Where the rest of the intoxicated man will soon be also. The pretty red- headed woman sitting next to him or was, in the automobile is very angry with good reason. Turns out she is Sylvia Lennox ex- wife of this inebriated war veteran (Second World War) Terry Lennox, and he has the scars on his face to prove it. Mr. Marlowe not known for being a nice guy, comes down the steps and helps the defenseless Terry up . While the multimillionaire's notorious daughter says she's late for an engagement and goes to get a cab for the lush, Mr. Lennox. Taking the vehicle ( it's hers), speeding away like a race driver towards the finish line. What to do with this pathetic creature, take him home and sober him up thinks Marlowe, can't leave the poor man in the gutter things were different in the last year of the 1940's, besides Thanksgiving had just been celebrated ... Soon these unlikely two become friends , Mr. Marlowe keeps Terry from the drunk tank the next time he sees him, trying to be vertical on the streets of Los Angeles, hustles him away when a cop notices.. . But would you believe it ? This alcoholic friend, living mostly in some dark hole outside, wherever he could find or reach one, remarries the wealthy daughter of Mr. Harlan Potter and is on their second honeymoon in Las Vegas ! From the top to the bottom and back again, sending a hundred dollar check to the astonished Marlowe for all his complications, a few days before Christmas too. .. They later become drinking partners at a dingy bar, but happiness does not last, Mr. Lennox is just a front to keep the promiscuous Sylvia looking respectable, Daddy is a cold conservative, honorable man, no bad publicity, he likes it as much as a stock market crash but a murder is committed, there will be more and Terry is suspected, the hero flees to Mexico with the assistance of Philip, who asks not the right questions, a pal is a pal. The tough police aren't slapping the private detective around, beating him like a punching bag with eyes, not the first time either from criminals or the law, it does still hurt but keeps his trap shut...Jailed, looking out into space (only blankness) waiting and wondering how can he get out of this foolish mess, maybe be incarcerated in San Quentin the big house for years, but has his pride intact... Days later he is sprung, becomes involved with Mr. and Mrs. Wade in the exclusive then San Fernando Valley, Eileen Wade is breathtakingly beautiful, Roger Wade is another drunk but a best- selling writer, needs to stop drinking in order to finish his next book, swords and romance, a favorite of critics it isn't , they however are poor and he is rich ... Philip Marlowe through no fault of his own brings death and sinister lurking gangsters ... Raymond Chandler the king of mystery authors has another great novel which lifts it above the genre into serious, distinguished literature. Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller To say goodbye is to die a little.
There are some books that just feel good to have on your dashboard, never too far from your fingertips to read in the tiny gaps between obligations and responsibility. The type of book that rides shotgun and keeps you company through the darker hours, through lonely nights at a shady laundromat or booze-soaked rainstorms on your porch. Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye is that sort of book, that sort of friend. The past few months have seen some bleak times and I’ve been on a Chandler kick to press through them. Of all the Marlowe adventures, this was the one that stands out like a lighthouse in a storm telling an unforgettable tale of murder and mystery. Chandler took noir to soaring heights of literary acceptance with his works, joining Dashiell Hammett as an essential author of the genre and The Long Goodbye leaves an eternal mark on the face of literature even more so that the more upbeat and hardboiled The Big Sleep that kicked off the Phillip Marlowe novel series and inspired fantastic films such as The Big Lebowski. Goodbye is a novel for hard times, hard drinking, hard living; an aged and more cynical than ever Marlowe proves he’s worth his salt in honoring the memory of a short-lived but impactful friendship with Terry Lennox. Lennox, a war-hero alcoholic, has been a victim of either suicide or arranged murder in a small Mexican town while on the lam escaping an accusation for murder of his rich wife, and Marlowe will stop at nothing to see through the doors slammed shut by political power and fear and discover the truth. While a bit bloated, this is a novel of near perfection in the mystery genre that is guaranteed to keep you up at night, gladly dropping more quarters for another dryer cycle in order to keep reading because a mystery with Marlowe is about as good as life gets.
To label this novel perfection would be to bastardize any opinions on the literature more widely accepted by the academy that I’ve previously championed and praised, but few novels have felt like a better friend in hard times than The Long Goodbye. Or perhaps it’s just that I like occupying Marlowe’s headspace. I even named my new cat after him upon completion of The Big Sleep. Marlowe is the type of man you wish you were, but not one you’d want to spend time with. He is fearless and devoted nearly to a fault, unafraid to play the asshole to get what he wants. He swims upon his moods and cherishes those moments of getting right up in someones face just to drown out a bad feeling or ascertain the truth. He calls everyone out on their bullshit and possesses a moral compass so strong that nobody besides himself seems to be worth a damn. Pushy and thorny, Marlowe is the hero for me. Reading a Chandler novel is much like geeking out on the old John Wayne films I’d watch with my father as a child, particularly True Grit. There are the pitfalls of blatant misogyny, racism (particularly towards Latin Americans in this one, which with my love of Latin American literature was particularly not cool) and cornball dated humor, but it is honestly very easy to overlook when the plot is that engaging, the writing that ‘cool’ and the novel so entertaining. How can you not love a novel with a passage like this:
Alcohol is like love...The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl’s clothes off.¹
This is the sort of novel that keeps you pouring a glass along with Marlowe—perhaps is that what they mean by an ‘active reader’, one who empathizes with the character and drinks when he drinks?—and despite being a pot-boiler of a thriller, never insults the intellect. The twists are fresh and the writing crisp. Granted, the novel is a bit bloated and some elements may raise the ‘really?’ eyebrow of critique, but on the whole it works. It is easy to consider many bits as cliche in the modern day, but important to remember that it was Chandler that invented it before it became cliche. There is also a really charming self-consciousness to this novel with regards to the writing. ‘Why did I go into such detail?’ Marlowe asks of himself, ‘because the charged atmosphere made every little thing stand out as a performance.’ The writing truly fits the scene and the P.I. narrator. While in most novels it would be easy to sneer at a lengthy passage on the physical description and dress of a character as they first walk on the scene, here it is at home since Marlowe would need to analyze a fresh face for all they are worth to build a profile of them quickly in order to interact with them and press for the goal. Chandler has a true gift for dialogue and character mannerisms as well, creating a wide, engaging cast. ‘He was a guy who talked with commas, like a heavy novel,’ he says at one point, and the dialogue of each character is always brilliantly nuanced. There is even a wonderful sense of satire on authors present, with Chandler poking fun at top-selling authors who write for profit and not for artistic merit, as is shown with Roger Wade. The continuous satire and critique of Hollywood and California that permeates Chandler’s novels comes alive in comical form with the desert sobering-up-clinic and the mentally challenged guard who cannot separate his fantasy role-playing of cowboys and tough guys from reality. On the surface it is easy to scoff at these scenes, but Chandler plays for something deeper.
It is fascinating to have read Chandler grow as a writer and to see his characters develop and age over time. Like a racoon, Marlowe has grown older and meaner and tougher, but all the more honorable, strong-willed and fearless.
Maybe I was tired and irritable. Maybe I felt a little guilty. I could learn to hate this guy without even knowing him. I could just look at him across the width of a cafeteria and want to kick his teeth inThe relationship between him and Ohl has soured a bit, both of them really elbowing the other in the ribs with more force and sadistic pleasure, with Ohl no longer a chain-smoker but constantly rubbing an unlit cigarette between his lips. What has not changed is the insight into Los Angeles and Hollywood, blossoming now into subtle jabs of social insight with Marlowe looking down at all the socialites as their sins and flaws seem to define them. The Long Goodbye reads almost like a western where the territory is wild and untamed and crime running rampant not as a driving force but as a symptom of the American lifestyle we have let cultivate itself. Power and greed and evil are seen here as byproducts of a society ruled by its own fear and vice, and Marlowe must navigate these deadly waters to uphold the good names of himself and those he cares about.
The Long Goodbye is a cornerstone of noir and mystery that rises above any genre into simply being a beautiful piece of literature. A searing social critique orchestrated with dazzling plot twists, enviable dialogue prowess and a firm grounding in doing what is right simply because it is right, Chandler has created a masterpiece that is just as potent today as it was when first written. This is the sort of novel that scratches an itch of being both a fluff read and an intellectual endeavour (there must be a term for this somewhere) and grabs the reader by the throat and heart and won’t let go until the final, heart wrenching few lines. Plus, the Robert Altman film starring Elliott Gould is fantastic (though not a perfect adaption it still works) and rivals even Chinatown as a masterpiece of noir cinema. This novel was a true comfort on many a dark night and it was sad to see it end. Marlowe is a true literary hero and one I won’t ever forget.
4.5/5
‘Out there in the night of a thousand crimes people were dying, being maimed, cut by flying glass, crushed against steering wheels or under heavy tires. People were being beaten, robbed, strangled, raped, and murdered. People were hungry, sick; bored, desperate with loneliness or remorse or fear, angry, cruel, feverish, shaken by sobs. A city no worse than others, a city rich and vigorous and full of pride, a city lost and beaten and full of emptiness.
It all depends on where you sit and what your own private score is. I didn’t have one. I didn’t care.
I finished the drink and went to bed.’
¹ While there is plenty of drinking to be had (finish this novel without wanting to go order a gimlet, I dare you), Chandler does well to also add an air of caution to the intake of alcohol. To drink in moderation is one thing, but the horrors of alcoholism and excess make up a major portion of the novel. ‘A man who drinks too much on occasion is still the same man as he was sober. An alcoholic, a real alcoholic, is not the same man at all. You can't predict anything about him for sure except that he will be someone you never met before.’ Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller (Book 511 from 1001 books) - The Long Goodbye (Philip Marlowe, #6), Raymond Chandler
The Long Goodbye is a novel by Raymond Chandler, published in 1953, his sixth novel featuring the private investigator Philip Marlowe. Some critics consider it inferior to The Big Sleep or Farewell, My Lovely, but others rank it as the best of his work. Chandler, in a letter to a friend, called the novel my best book.
The novel opens outside a club called the Dancers. It is late October or early November. No specific year is given for when the events take place, but internal evidence and the publication date of the novel place them some time between 1950 and 1952.
Philip Marlowe meets a drunk named Terry Lennox, a man with scars on one side of his face. They forge an uneasy friendship over the next few months. In June, Lennox shows up late one night at Marlowe's home in a great deal of trouble and needing a ride to the airport across the border in Tijuana, Mexico. Marlowe agrees as long as Lennox does not tell him any details of why he is running.
On his return to Los Angeles, Marlowe learns that Lennox's wife was found dead in her guest house and that she died before Lennox fled. Marlowe is arrested on suspicion of murder after refusing to co-operate with investigators, who want him to confess that he helped Lennox flee. ...
خداحافظی طولانی - ریموند چندلر (روزنه کار) ادبیات آمریکا؛ یکی از صد داستان جنایی برتر دنیا؛ تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز سوم ماه می سال1999میلادی
عنوان: خداحافظی طولانی؛ نویسنده: ریموند چندلر؛ مترجم فتح الله جعفری جوزانی؛ تهران، روزنه کار، 1378، در 408ص؛ شابک 9646728073؛ موضوع داستانهای پلیسی از نویسندگان ایالات متحده آمریکایی - ماجراهای فلیپ مارلو - کتاب شش - سده 20م
چکیده داستان: مردی به نام «تری لنوکس» با دختری از خاندان ثروتمند آشنا میشود، اما چون خود از ثروت بهره ای ندارد، با بیمهری دختر مواجه میگردد، و ناگزیر از او فاصله میگیرد؛ سرانجام «تری» با مساعدت دوستش ـ کارآگاه مارلو ـ کاری در «لاسوگاس» مییابد، و اوضاع او به شدت رو به بهبودی میرود، و پول فراوان دست و پا میکند؛ او با تغییر وضع مالی خود، به سراغ همان دختر میرود، و با او ازدواج میکند؛ این امر البته با نارضایتی کارآگاه «مارلو» صورت میگیرد؛ یکچند سپری میشود، تا اینکه «تری» با حالتی وحشتزده، و تفنگ به دست، نزد کارآگاه «مارلو» میآید، و…؛
آغاز داستان از متن: (دفعه ی اولی که چشمم به «تری لنوکس» افتاد؛ توی یک ماشین «رولزرویس» نقره ای رنگ، بیرون تراس رستوران «دنسرز» مست بود، مسئول پارکینگ ماشین را آورده بود، و همینطور درو واز نگه داشته بود؛ چون پای چپ «تری لنوکس» هنوز بیرون ماشین آویزان بود؛ انگار یادش رفته بود که اصلا پای چپی هم داره؛ چهره اش جوان به نظر میاومد؛ ولی موهاش سفید استخونی بود؛ از چشماش معلوم بود که پاتیله؛ ولی ازون که میگذشتی، قیافه اش مثل هر کس دیگه ای بود؛ که تو جایی که فقط واسه سرکیسه کردن ساخته شده، پول زیادی خرج کرده باشد؛ یه دختر کنارش بود؛ موهایی به رنگ قرمز تیره ی دوست داشتنی داشت؛ رو لبهاش لبخند دوری بود، و رو شونه هاش یه پالتو خز آبی، که تقریبا باعث میشد اون «رولز رویس» مثل هر ماشین دیگه ای به نظر بیاد؛ اما نه؛ هیچی نمیتونه با «رولزرویس» این کار رو بکنه؛ و ...)؛ پایان نقل
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 22/08/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 07/07/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller IT’S OK WITH ME
Marlowe cresce, senza invecchiare.
Letterariamente nato nel 1939, qui appare quattordici anni dopo per la sesta volta.
Disilluso, e apparentemente cinico, è in realtà il solito inguaribile romantico, qui più che mai.
Al punto da credere ‘ancora’ in valori come l’amicizia, e perfino l’onestà.
In questo romanzo, più che in altri, la tematica dell’alcol la fa da padrone, ci sono ben tre personaggi che ne sono schiavi: lo scrittore in crisi creativa, l’amico fuggitivo, e lo stesso protagonista. Per un lungo periodo della sua vita Chandler ebbe seri problemi di alcol, fino probabilmente a morire per le conseguenze dell’eccesso.
Il condominio dove abita Marlowe a Westwood - sullo sfondo le sue belle vicine di casa.
Il lungo addio è il grande sonno, la morte.
Per me Chandler rimane un maestro insuperato del noir in chiave hard boiled, e leggerlo rimane uno dei piaceri della vita.
Poi, vent’anni dopo l’uscita del romanzo, nel 1973, arrivò Robert Altman. Erano i suoi anni più fecondi: in soli cinque anni realizzò film storici, come questo, “M*A*S*H*”, “McCabe & Mrs Miller-I compari”, “Thieves Like Us-Gang,” “Nashville”, concedendosi anche opere ‘minori’, ma sempre più che pregevoli, come “Brewster McCloud-Anche gli uccelli uccidono”, “Images” e “California Split-California Poker”. Il suo obiettivo sembrava essere fare buoni film intervenendo sui generei cinematografici, smitizzandoli (pietra miliare rimane la rivisitazione del West nel film con Warren Beatty e Julie Christie), giocando sugli stereotipi.
Qui, più che altrove, respiro molta nouvelle vague francese, sapientemente adattata alla costa ovest degli US.
Verso la fine, stessa inquadratura del mitico finale: qui Marlowe arriva a piedi alla casa dell’amico, e poi se ne va (sempre a piedi!).
Altman carrella, panoramica, zoomma, muove in continuazione la sua macchina da presa col dolly, e riprende attraverso finestre, su vetri specchi quadri finestre acqua, superfici che riflettono e schermano, cornici che raddoppiano l’inquadratura.
Altrettanto meta-cinematografica è la colonna sonora di John Williams, la canzone The Long Goodbye che si ripete per tutto il film sotto forma di puro score, oppure dalla radio, oppure cantata dai personaggi, nel campanello di una porta, nella marcia funebre di un funerale messicano.
La storia, oltre a essere attualizzata ambientandola nella Los Angeles dei primi anni Settanta (il gangster sembra un sosia di Paul Simon! È interpretato da Mark Rydell, più famoso come regista che come attore: suoi sono “Sul lago dorato” e “Il fiume dell’ira”), è scarnificata, ridotta all’osso, sfrondando tutti i rami secondari con cui Chandler contorceva le sue trame.
Gould-Marlowe rimane vestito così tutto il film, inclusa la sigaretta accesa, presente in ogni singola scena.
Già dalla prima inquadratura capiamo molto di questo ‘nuovo’ Marlowe: dorme vestito con la luce accesa su un letto sfatto, accanto ha un posacenere straboccante di cicche, viene svegliato alle tre del mattino dal gatto affamato, si accende immediatamente una sigaretta, e come nel resto del film, non la abbandona mai, e la accende sempre con fiammiferi strusciati su qualsiasi superficie (la parete dietro il letto è tutta segnata). Sembra uno studente fuori sede, e fuori corso, di quelli che frequentano poco la doccia, non rinunciano a vestiti stazzonati e lavandini ingombri di piatti sporchi.
È un tale perdente che poco più avanti perde anche il gatto (non è riuscito a imbrogliarlo: il gatto ha la sua marca preferita di cibo in scatola e mangia solo quella, Marlowe ha cambiato etichetta ai barattoli, ma il gatto non c’è cascato).
I dialoghi delle scene con Hayden-Wade sono tutti improvvisati perché Sterling Hayden era sempre ubriaco e strafatto. La casa dove abita è la casa dove abitava Robert Altman all’epoca.
Durante l’interrogatorio della polizia Marlowe si dipinge la faccia con l’inchiostro del tampone per le impronte digitali: un po’ come un giocatore di football, ancor più come un pellerossa, a metà tra la marachella e la protesta (Belmondo si colorava di blu nel finale di “Pierrot le fou”).
Però indossa sempre lo stesso abito scuro, con camicia bianca e cravatta: anche se invitato a togliersela, evita, rimane vestito perfino quando si tuffa nell’oceano per salvare lo scrittore ubriaco (un immenso iconico Sterling Hayden, che improvvisò tutti i suoi dialoghi perché sul set era perennemente ubriaco e fatto d’erba).
Gould/Marlowe prova a imbrogliare il gatto: di nascosto riempie il barattolo del cibo preferito dal felino con un altro qualsiasi, lo offre alla bestiola che però non ci casca, e rifiuta sdegnasa.
È un Marlowe molto diverso, a cominciare dal fatto che è trasportato negli anni Settanta.
Ma nostalgia e malinconia impregnano il film come il romanzo: basta pensare alla macchina che Elliott Gould-Philip Marlowe possiede, una Lincoln Continental decapottabile del 1948. O basta pensare al fatto che a sceneggiare è la stessa Leigh Brackett del mitico “Il Grande Sonno”, proprio quello diretto da Haward Hawks nel 1946, con l’ancor più mitico Bogart che rese leggendario il private eye Marlowe. O anche alle imitazione del custode del Malibu Colony.
Ma oltre a questi sentimenti ‘retro’, c’è ironia e umorismo da vendere, macchiette, caricature, alleggerimento, diluizione della suspense.
È un noir così atipico che è girato quasi tutto di giorno, senza neon e asfalti bagnati in controluce (il direttore della fotografia è il grande Vilmos Zsigmond, che in post-produzione sovraespose il negativo alla luce per smorzare i neri e ammorbidire i colori fino a raggiungere tonalità pastello).
Le vicine di casa, sempre nude, sempre tra lo strafatto e lo sciroccato.
È un film con un investigatore privato protagonista e non vediamo mai il suo ufficio, con la classica porta a vetri, e la bottiglia di bourbon nascosta nel cassetto della scrivania. Dove lavora questo Marlowe? Ce l’ha un ufficio?
È un detective privato che gira disarmato, tranne nel finale.
Che ha vicine di casa bellissime e sciroccate, perennemente in topless, sempre sveglie, passano il tempo tra yoga meditazione e confezionando candele, preparano brownies alle tre del mattino (sicuramente speziati di hashish). Marlowe invece di corteggiarle, gli fa la spesa di notte e non si fa rendere i soldi. Piuttosto chiede loro di gettare un occhio sul suo gatto che s’è offeso per il tranello della scatoletta di cibo ed è sparito.
Gould è sornione e strafottente, ma emana anche tenerezza e fragilità, le donne lo ingaggiano anche per essere protette (vedi la moglie dello scrittore, Nina van Pallandt).
Riflessi e doppie inquadrature.
Per tutto il film Gould-Marlowe ripete “It’s ok with me”, inno di strafottenza e rinuncia: ma alla fine invece, all’amico che gli dice A nessuno importa…, risponde Importa a me.” E compie un gesto tanto inaspettato quanto inevitabile, regalando al film un finale magnifico, decisamente superiore a quello del romanzo.
Quanto assomiglia ai protagonisti dei film americani della stessa epoca (il Jack Nicholson di “Cinque pezzi facili”, Gene Hackman de “La conversazione”, DeNiro di “Taxi Driver”, sempre Hackman di “Bersaglio di notte”, il Krist Kristofferson di “Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid”…: delusi, perdenti, ma non sconfitti, anti-eroi un po’ fuori dal tempo, ma perfette espressioni di quel loro tempo incerto.
E allora, il lungo addio del film di Altman è forse quello del cinema americano al cinema classico, al cinema di papà: la nouvelle vague è venuta almeno dieci/quindici prima, anche il free cinema, adesso è il tempo della New Hollywood (non per niente il film si chiude sulle note di Hooray for Hollywoodche continua a scorrere sotto i titoli di coda)
PS
In due ruoli minori, neppure citati nei titoli di coda (uncredited) si vedono David Carradine e Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Da sinistra a destra: Robert Altman, Nina von Pallandt, Elliott Gould. Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller This is the sixth and last of the full-length novels that Raymond Chandler wrote featuring his iconic detective, Philip Marlowe. It's also the most personal in that Chandler seems to have based two of the characters, Terry Lennox and Roger Wade, at least in part on himself.
At the book opens, Marlowe meets a man named Terry Lennox outside of a nightclub. Lennox is very drunk and his date drives off and leaves him. Marlowe, being a good samaritan, takes Lennox to his own home, sobers him up and then drives him home to the mansion that Lennox shares with his very promiscuous and extremely wealthy wife. On the basis of this incident, Marlowe and Lennox strike up a friendship of sorts and occasionally get together for drinks. Then one night, Lennox turns up and asks Marlow to give him a ride to Mexico, no questions asked.
Well, what are friends for?
Marlowe gives Lennox a ride and from that point, things generally go to hell in a handbasket. It's very difficult to say anything else about the plot of the novel without giving things away that the reader will want to find out for him or herself. This is, though, one of Chandler's best novels, full of the social commentary and great prose for which Chandler was so deservedly famous. This plot is actually a little less convoluted than some of the others and it's fun to watch it unfold. I finished the book this time around, after reading the other Chandler novels in order, regretting even more than ever the fact that there are only six of these novels along with a number of short stories. I could have used a lot more.
On a side note, this novel was published in 1953 and is set sometime around 1950. It was finally filmed by Robert Altman in 1973, starring Elliot Gould as Marlowe and the story is set in the early 1970s rather than the early 1950s. A lot of people like the movie a lot, but I've seen it twice and have never been able to warm up to it. Given the way that Humphrey Bogart inhabited the role of Marlowe and really made it his own, I just couldn't buy Gould as Marlowe. Also, Marlowe, who seemed to perfectly belong to the late 1940s and early '50s, seemed out of place in the 1970s--almost anachronistic. For my part, then, when I need a Philip Marlowe film fix, I'll stick with the Bogart version of The Big Sleep, and I'm sure I'll be coming back to this and the other novels again and again in the coming years. Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller
A down and out friend of Marlowe's flees to Mexico with Marlowe's help, his wife dead under suspicious circumstances. Marlowe's friend soon turns up dead, an apparent suicide. But what does his death, if anything, have to do with a drunk writer Marlowe finds himself watching?
I'm not really sure how I feel about the Long Goodbye. It's Chandler so the writing is great, with Chandler's trademark similes and hard-boiled atmosphere. On the other hand, it's written a little differently than his other Philip Marlowe books. It's more philosophical and less crime-oriented. The two victims in the story seem to be stand-ins for Chandler himself.
It's still crime oriented, though. It took me forever to figure out how the two seemingly unrelated cases were linked. I got there just before Marlowe did but it was a close shave.
What else is there to say without giving anything away? Chandler once again delivers the goods, just not in the same package as usual. Still, it was a very enjoyable read. Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller As research for a novel I'm writing, I'm reading detective fiction and stealing everything of value. My story takes place in L.A. of the early '90s, but I'm buying every type of firework on the stand and lighting the fuse. Though I've seen Philip Marlowe adapted to film or television, my introduction to the fiction of Raymond Chandler is The Long Goodbye, the author's sixth novel featuring the Los Angeles private dick. Published in 1953, it's long in the tooth, but it's a testament to Chandler's immense literary skill that more than sixty years of copying and pasting by others hasn't stripped this novel of its vitality.
The first-person account begins with Marlowe's enigmatic relationship with Terry Lennox, a fop he brings home like a stray dog, sobering him up, cooking him breakfast and giving him enough bucks to catch a bus to Las Vegas where a job awaits. Terry reappears in Marlowe's life married to Sylvia Potter, the daughter of publishing magnate Harlan Potter. Not long after, Terry appears on Marlowe's doorstep with a gun in his hand. He offers Marlowe five hundred dollars to drive him to Tijuana. Terry hasn't shot anybody with that gun, but doesn't claim innocence over whatever fate has met his promiscuous wife.
Returning home, Marlowe finds two homicide cops waiting. His wise guy act doesn't go over well with the LAPD, who are looking for Terry Lennox and notify Marlowe that Sylvia has been found dead in her guest house in Encino, her face beaten to a pulp with a bronze statuette. Marlowe doesn't believe Terry would do anything like that and loyalty costs him some smacks in the face and three days in jail. The cops let him go when Lennox is located in a small mountain town in Mexico with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Marlowe doesn't believe Terry would kill himself either.
I thought about Terry Lennox in a detached sort of way. He was already receding into the distance, white hair and scarred face and weak charm and his peculiar brand of pride. I didn't judge him or analyze him, just as I had never asked him questions about how he got wounded or how he ever happened to get himself married to anyone like Sylvia. He was like somebody you meet on board a cruise ship and get to know very well and never really know at all. He was gone like the same fellow when he says goodbye at the pier and let's keep in touch, old man, and you know you won't and he won't. Likely enough you'll never even see the guy again. If you do he will be an entirely different person, just another Rotarian in a club car. How's business? Oh, not too bad. You look good. So do you. I've put on too much weight. Don't we all? Remember that trip in the Franconia (or whatever it was)? Oh sure, swell trip, wasn't it?
The hell it was a swell trip. You were bored stiff. You only talked to the guy because there wasn't anybody around that interested you. Maybe it was like that with Terry Lennox and me. No, not quite. I owned a piece of him. I had invested time and money in him, and three days in the icehouse, not to mention a slug in the jaw and a punch in the neck that I felt every time I swallowed. Now he was dead and I couldn't even give him back his five hundred bucks. That made me sore. It was always the little things that make you sore.
Marlowe receives a visit at his office from a flashy hoodlum named Mendy Melendez and his bodyguard. Melendez delights in taunting Marlowe as a cheapie not worth the bother, except to threaten about making publicity off the Terry Lennox case. Melendez claims that Terry not only saved his life in the war, but the life of a Vegas gangster named Randy Starr. Marlowe later receives an envelope with Mexican stamps, a note written by Terry and a $5,000 bill in it. Needing something else to occupy himself with, Marlowe accepts a meeting at the Ritz-Beverly with a potential client, a New York publishing agent.
The agent pitches Marlowe the job of investigating his client Roger Wade, author of tawdry and popular historical novels who's struggling to finish his latest. Spencer and Wade's wife believe there might be something in Roger's past driving him into a bottle and need someone to watch him. Marlowe turns the job down, until he's joined by Mrs. Eileen Wade, a fairy princess blonde whose manner gets the dick's attention, but not enough for him to take a job as male nurse for her drunk husband though. Visiting Marlowe at his office the next day, Eileen Wade notifies Marlowe that Roger has been missing for three days, leaving only a name on a piece of yellow paper, Dr. V.
Marlowe draws on a contact in a high-end Beverly Hills private investigation firm, a place he turned down a job in, for a list of L.A. area quacks with the last name V who for the right price prescribe their services to people like Roger Wade. Infiltrating the operations of three quacks one at a time, Marlowe leaves with nothing but disdain for their practice.
I paid my check, left my car where it was, and walked the north side of the street to the Stockwell Building. It was an antique with a cigar counter in the entrance and a manually operated elevator that lurched and hated to level off. The corridor to the sixth floor was narrow and the doors had frosted glass panels. It was older and much dirtier than my own building. It was loaded with doctors, dentists, Christian science practitioners not doing too good, the kind of lawyers you hope the other fellow has, the kind of doctors and dentists who just scrape along. Not too skillful, not too clean, not too much on the ball, three dollars and please pay the nurse; tired, discouraged men who know just exactly where they stand, what kind of patients they can get and how much money they can be squeezed into paying. Please Do Not Ask For Credit. Doctor is In, Doctor is Out. That's a pretty shaky molar you have there, Mrs. Kazinski. Now if you want this new acrylic filling, every bit as good as a gold inlay, I can do it for you for $14. Novocain will be two dollars extra, if you wish it. Doctor is In, Doctor is Out. That will be Three Dollars. Please Pay the Nurse.
In a building like that there will always be a few guys making real money, but they don't look it. They fit into the shabby background, which is protective coloring for them. Shyster lawyers who are partners in a bail-bond racket on the side (only about two per cent of all forfeited bail bonds are ever collected). Abortionists posing as anything you like that explains their furnishings. Dope pushers posing as urologists, dermatologists, or any branch of medicine in which the treatment can be frequent, and the regular use of local anesthetics is normal.
Of course, Marlowe finds Roger Wade. Of course, Roger & Eileen Wade knew Terry & Sylvia Lennox. Of course, the mysteries of Sylvia's murder and Roger's ennui are related. And of course, Marlowe figures it out, despite the rich and powerful, the police and a criminal element not wanting anything figured out. What I loved about The Long Goodbye from its hangover title to its reveal on the last page is the character of Philip Marlowe. He doesn't have a deep past or seem to have much of a future either, nor does he seem to travel far. He's like an audience member at a game show, sitting in one place, incredulous, while the sets and prizes keep revolving in front of him.
So passed a day in the life of a P.I. Not exactly a typical day but not totally untypical either. What makes a man stay with it nobody knows. You don't get rich, you don't often have much fun. Sometimes you get beaten up or shot at or tossed into the jailhouse. Once in a long while you get dead. Every other month you decide to give it up and find some sensible occupation while you can still walk without shaking your head. Then the door buzzer rings and you open the inner door to the waiting room and there stands a new face with a new problem, a new load of grief, and a small piece of money.
While I felt The Long Goodbye dragging on a little bit, I think the reason Raymond Chandler has stood the test of time is that as filmed or liberated as some of his plots have been over the years, nobody can write this wee-small-hours-of-the-morning prose, mix together various elements or make it feel as timeless as Chandler does on the page. This novel was loosely but memorably adapted in 1973 by filmmaker Robert Altman with Elliott Gould as Marlowe, clinging to Chandler's dusty '50s values of loyalty while L.A. had entered the Me Decade. An often self-indulgent film, I prefer the novel, which functions better as a story and allows the reader into Marlowe's mind.
Word count: 119, 606 words
Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller Obra maestra de la literatura. De lectura imprescindible.
Literature masterpiece. Essential reading. Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller Chandler’s known as the king of LA noir and word is this is his best. His writing is lean and clean, short staccato sentences with not a word wasted. Almost poetic in its brevity – not to be confused with lack of substance. Humour me, I’m trying it out on this review Marlowe’s amazingly complex, a fast-talking P.I. surviving on tough cynicism. Deep down just a stand-up guy with a soft spot for underdogs. Got a moral core that earns him no thanks, just a whole whack of trouble and an enemy around every corner. There’s a suicide and a murder everybody’s pushing Marlow to drop. You know something, kid? You think you're cute but you're just stupid. You're a shadow on the wall.” But walking away just ain't in his make-up.
A taste of Marlow's world “I drove back to Hollywood feeling like a short length of chewed string. It was too early to eat, and too hot. I turned on the fan in my office. It didn't make the air any cooler, just a little more lively. Outside on the boulevard the traffic brawled endlessly. Inside my head thoughts stuck together like flies on flypaper.” He builds characters effortlessly – again in just a few words. Take this pair of Homicide Detectives He was gray blond and looked sticky. His partner was tall, good-looking, neat, and had a precise nastiness about him, a goon with an education. They had watching and waiting eyes, patient and careful eyes, cool disdainful eyes, cops' eyes.
Plot's a bit convoluted but moves along nicely. Don’t get caught up trying to keep it all straight. Instead enjoy the ambiance and the deliciously broken people. Majority of them clinging to sanity by a thread. Roger Wade is interesting, a bestselling pulp fiction author who hits the bottle hard. Rumour has it this is semi-autobiographical.
Heads-up: Written in the 50’s so you'll need to take in stride some racism. Women are broads and they're all bad news. He seems to like them anyway. So they're human, they sweat, they get dirty, they have to go to the bathroom. What did you expect-golden butterflies hovering in a rosy mist?”
Way I see it I lucked out. My GR buddies guided me to Chandler as an intro to the world of hard-boiled detective novels. My 1st stab at it, have nothing to compare it to. Can’t rate by genre so 4.5 stars as pure entertainment – it was a blast. Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller I enjoyed the atmospherics and mood of this one, the last of Chandler’s detective stories featuring Philip Marlowe. This one is different in being more meditative and in having more of a focus on alienation among the wealthy residents of gated compounds. Chandler also restrains Marlowe’s use of colorful similes in his interior monologues, which became a cliché in many of his imitators. Compared to the earlier tales, Chandler is more judicious here in the playful, sardonic banter Marlowe uses for dismaying and undermining his adversaries, part of his signature cool bravado in the face of danger.
The story begins with Marlowe helping his sensitive alcoholic friend Lennox escape to Mexico, with no questions asked. Soon he learns his faithless, wealthy wife has been brutally murdered, with Lennox the prime suspect. Marlowe stays mum during brutal police questioning and is held in jail for a few days. His initial temptation to investigate the case as a possible frame is undermined by reports of Lennox’s suicide and written confession. The case comes up again when he begins to find links with another PI job. A publisher tries to hire him to uncover the roots of a writer’s block and violent behavior when drinking. Though he turns the job down, the guy’s seductive wife draws him into their situation. A murder takes place that he might have prevented, putting Marlowe into high gear to solve the linked cases and foil the pervasive efforts of powerful forces to suppress the truth.
Despite the troubles with alcohol that beset his two main characters and Chandler himself, he has a wonderful way of capturing the allure Marlowe finds in drinking with Lennox:
“I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth. I like the neat bottles on the bar back and the lovely shining glasses and the anticipation. I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and put the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar—that’s wonderful.” I agreed with him. …
“Alcohol is like love,” he said. “The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl’s clothes off.”
Chandler’s prose has some more delights in capturing the casual attitudes of the rich on power of money:
“I’m a big bad man, Marlowe. I make lots of dough. I got to make lots of dough to juice the guys I got to juice in order to make lots of dough to juice the guys I got to juice.
A rich businessmen has his formula for success nicely boiled down:
You can’t have quality with mass production. You don’t want it because it lasts too long. So you substitute styling, which is a commercial swindle intended to produce artificial obsolescence.
Marlowe’s jaded attitude about conventional justice is nicely expressed is this diatribe:
“Let the law enforcement people do their own dirty work. Let the lawyers work it out. They write the laws for other lawyers to dissect in front of other lawyers to dissect in front of other lawyers called judges so that other judges can say the first judges were wrong and the Supreme Court can say the second lot were wrong. Sure there’s such as a thing as law. We’re up to our necks in it. About all it does is make business for lawyers. How long do you think the big-shot mobsters would last if the lawyers didn’t show them how to operate?”
Chandler seems to have some fun with frustrations of the police over mental health concerns in society’s response to crime:
“You two characters been seeing any psychiatrists lately?”
“Jesus,” Ohls said, “hadn’t you heard? We got them in our hair all the time these days. …This ain’t police business any more. It’s getting to be a branch of the medical racket. They’re in and out of jail, the courts, the interrogation rooms. They write reports fifteen pages long on why some punk of a juvenile held up a liquor store or raped a schoolgirl or peddled her to the senior class. Ten years from now guys like Hernandez and me will be doing Rohrschach tests and word associations instead of chin-ups and target practice.
So you get the picture that there is a bit of preaching in this story. But we often never sure which attitudes align with Chandler’s own. I choose to believe the following words of Marlowe are close to his own, and I appreciate the tongue-in-cheek aspects behind them:
“You’re a damn good cop, Bernie, but just the same you’re all wet. In one way cops are all the same. They blame the wrong things. …Crime isn’t a disease, it’s a symptom. Cops are like a doctor that gives you aspirin for a brain tumor, except that the cop would rather cure it with a blackjack. We’re a big tough rich wild people and crime is the price we pay for it, and organized crime is the price we pay for organization. We’ll have it with us for a long time. Organized crime is just the dirty side of the sharp dollar.”
“What’s the clean side?”
“I never saw it. …Let’s have a drink.”
Through this tale we get a dose of the metaphor for the detective as a cynical but good hearted agent who strives to address the social ills of corruption and greed with truth and justice. But here the heroic aspects are infused with the tragic element of impotence in the face of rank consumerism and selfishness in society in the early 50s. Altman as the director of the movie version in 1973 (starring Elliot Gould as a surprise) highlighted the existential and chaotic aspects of this outlook and put a Don Quixote-like aspect to Marlowe’s tilting at windmills.
Hard Boiled, Mystery, Thriller
