When I started rereading this book, I was prepared to dislike the experience, thinking that the new me was out of sync with the old me.
The first time I read the Big Sleep, it felt like an explosion of energy, but a passage of a decade made it feel like the spazmatic tantrums of a frustrated man. Even though there are still some problematic passages in The Long Goodbye, and this book takes a while to get rolling, I found that it held up to my high regard over the past decade.
This book is a powerful, scathing indictment of the wealthy folks in “Idle Valley”. However, it also holds a certain charm. Chandler took an elegiac tone, musing upon the debasement of the upper class, mirrored in Phillip Marlowe’s relationship with Terry Lennox. In portraying the rottenness of the residents of Idle Valley, Chandler paints them as actors trapped within the circumstances of their making, birds of their own gilded cages. The players in the novel have created a dysfunctional microcosm within wealthy Los Angeles of mid-century America.
The book is a critique of our corrupt nation, the dynamics of our high society, and the individuals who create it. Chandler carefully walks the fine line between being sympathetic and judgmental towards the plights of his characters. As with much great art, the ambivalence is what makes this book such a lovely read.
While editing this post, I was reminded of the Robert Altman movie adaptation that I watched around the time I first read these books (rest in peace, Blockbuster). While I can’t remember any details except for one particularly violent scene, I recall that it was an intriguing counter-intuitive take on noir. I’m not surprised it did poorly in the box office. The movie was a slow burn that didn’t feel like it took you anywhere. Such moodiness made it feel all the more brilliant for a wannabe auteur like me.