Skip to main content

“Raymond Chandler’s Big Sleep” – book review


Private detective Phil Marlow is invited by a wealthy businessman who has just received a note of ransom, anonymous one. His two youthful, sleazy daughters are involved and the wealthy old man cannot approach the police. The old man is suffering from a poor heart, he wheels his way around the home, is affectionate towards his son-in-law who apparently is absconding for some reason. His older daughter thinks she is clever, with her shiny white legs, supple ankles, gorgeous figure and slender waist, attempts to seduce Marlow, the detective. Younger daughter has a boyfriend who finds her posing naked for a book shop owner Geiger and shoots him. The shop owner’s secretary has a notorious boy friend, Brody, who happens to be hiding behind the bushes at the time of the murder; Brody escapes with the naked pictures of younger daughter who stays on dope for the whole night.

The wealthy old man’s chauffer is found dead, the car is found in Pacific Ocean. Owen Taylor, younger daughter’s boyfriend must have committed the murder. Carol, a student working part time at the book store finds the secretary and boyfriend making mileage out of the owner’s death before it became public. Offended, disconcerted, he pulls the trigger on Brody. Protagonist, Phil Marrow solves seemingly two different cases, deaths of two people in two different locations at different times, and connects them over a style of investigation that we have come to expect of Hollywood today. 

Raymond Chandler was the pioneer of this style; it was he, who invented clever little phrases and turned men of uniform into something of witty, clever and sharp men who operated with style, grace and charisma.

This is not all. The plot twists and twirls over and over again. Novel is narrated in first person’s perspective, by the detective himself. He narrates the surroundings vividly, individuals’ features and their reactions fanatically- she leapt up, her dark pupils peeping through the blue iris-; novel is written like a script for a movie. Detective would mutter something about his keeping the door unlocked for clients who wished to wait until he got home. “And, today, I have a client”, the chapter would end with those words.

The book is complexly interwoven, is not meant for a light read. But guarantees thrilling investigations and startling revelations

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Entrenched Prejudices taking the form of Patriotism

What a great way to celebrate the Independence Day? I am bemused, apparently owing to the wide exposure of emotional experiences hitherto seemed innocuous. Delve a little deep into the acquaintance with idea "patriotism", one will invariably be granted with an uncalled inquisition, one gets to stare at a disconcerting vacuum. Why do we brand ourselves with nations that are a mere collection of geographically propelled, culturally augmented, self aggrandizing people? Answer is elusive to many for the reasons best known to them hitherto for their own good are turning skeptical now. Man whom the evolutionists assert shares a common ancestor with chimps and gibbons, naturally after parting his ways with his cousins (chimps, gibbons) choose to retain a comprehensive emotional, physiological and mental disposition. Man, if he ever chooses to embark on a space ship that supposedly travels back in time is bound to diminish his self esteem owing to his impromptu urge to track his ance...

The moth that covered my face!

My dog came prancing and dancing towards me, I started petting him almost impulsively, took his ears and rolled them over his head hither and thither, stroked his forehead, he was enjoying my attention blushingly perhaps, and he leant his head downwards and was swaying around to get the most of affection. And, suddenly he leapt forward with his hind legs brushing my knee cap, I looked over and he was merrily teasing a moth which apparently fell over on its back and was trying desperately to climb back into a more modest stand. Well, anatomically speaking, the moth had a curved back, smooth with shiny plate like outer skin that extended from front to rear forming quite an armour. It had tiny legs, it was just too hard to find out how many though, drawn so close to the body in a twisted tangled mess, it looked as if, the insect was bothering perhaps a little too much about its legs. On any other occasion, the moth would have leisurely entertained me with its physical theatrics, but this...

Scientific calculator and singar kumkum

Chapter 1 Renu was about eight years old when she was first introduced to the calculator. It was the summer holidays when she found it in the dusty corner of her bedroom cupboard. Her palms were so small at the time that she had to stretch them both to hold it. The calculator wore a pale white frame; time had erased all the numbers on the rubber buttons. She carried it to her father who nonchalantly nested it in the burrow of his left palm and punched on it methodically with his index finger. Just as a woodpecker pecking at a dead bark looks away in befuddlement, after flipping the calculator upside down, beating it against his palm, her father lifted his head to meet Renu’s eyes. He was about to tell her that it had lived its useful life. But her dark eyes had worn an expectant gaze, so he replaced the dead pencil cells with new ones and repeated the beating about. Ten minutes later, he drew the child closer, rested the calculator before her chin and pointed to the rectangular bloc...