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 Chandlers The Long Goodbye is that sort of book, that sort of friend. The past few months have seen some bleak times and Ive 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 hes 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 Ive previously championed and praised, but few novels have felt like a better friend in hard times than The Long Goodbye. Or perhaps its just that I like occupying Marlowes 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 youd 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 Id 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 girls clothes off.¹This is the sort of novel that keeps you pouring a glass along with Marloweperhaps 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 Chandlers 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 wont 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 wont ever forget.4.5/5Out 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 didnt have one. I didnt 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.

Dammit, Raymond Chandler has style. He has finesse. His use of metaphor is so good that he is still an original, even after lesser noirists have copied or stolen from him outright for the past sixty years.Yet for a hardboiled novel with the slickest of metaphors, Chandler is still a very sensitive writer. For a genre so easily stereotyped as gruff plastic machismo, this is an oddly meditative and melancholy book. You root for Marlowe, of course, but you admire his cases and his dedication, and his sad depictions of 1950s Los Angeles. Chandler maybe even put part of himself into this story, with the parts with the writer down on his luck, or the scarred sympathetic veteran. The twist ending, by the way, is fantastic.This, I hear, is one of his best. I agree. He may be 'only' a genre writer, but to hell with that. It is my firm opinion he's one of the best prose stylists the US has produced in the 20th century.

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.

I like Mystery novels that are literary. I know the term "literary" is broad and hazy but let's just say that literary is a special attention that is given to the language and to the characters, and this is in addition to the creation of suspense. One of the little pleasures of life is picking a book at an airport because you have four sleepless hours ahead of you and discovering soon after take-off that the book you thought would be easy fun is making you feel and think and pause to re-read that sentence again. Or maybe the author whacks you with an unpretentious metaphor that clears your brain like a shot of mental antihistamine. Raymond Chandler died in 1959 and it is the rare airport gift shop that has any of his books. I went and looked for his books and, in particular this one, because I wanted to read one of the early masters of the genre. I wanted to see if there was some kind of essential structure to the mystery novel that the current writers that I like follow. There are certain commonalities that great mystery novels follow and looking at the authors who developed those structures is very helpful. (If you are interested in seeing what these "structures" are I recommend the book Writing Mysteries, edited by Sue Grafton.) But here I want to write, not about the essential style and structure of the genre that I found in Chandler, but about a kind of philosophical underpinning that makes this book great and which I think is also found in the greatest mystery writers. In this story you will find a kind of very human detective (the anti-hero in many ways) who has one good quality going for him. He wants to find the truth. When everyone is satisfied with the appearance of truth, he is not. When no one cares for the truth anymore, he still does. If the truth is painful (to himself and others), it doesn't matter. When the person that was killed was not of much value to society, he still believes finding the person who snuffed out that poor and miserable life, is worthwhile. The motive for this pursuit is not religious or ethical or patriotic. Most often than not the pursuit of truth seems to be the only thing that is holding the detective from giving up on himself and on life. It was Chandler, in this book, that helped me to discover why I like these "literary" mystery books. There's something about seeing Marlowe, and his detective friends, pursue and desire truth that gives me strength and some kind of faith and yes, a little courage. Maybe because watching the news with each channel offering a different version, or listening to politicians who, at best offer only partial views of the whole truth, leaves me impoverished and sad. Here in this well written work, there is solace to be found and a reminder that the truth exists and can be searched for and often found.

This knocked my socks off. I've read some of his others and they were good. This one is excellent.Not only does it get the language and mores of a certain place and time, but doubles down on the core self-identities of at least 4 different people. Philip Marlowe being just one of the soul captured. Post-war and high detachment times in both moneyed and shoddy surroundings. But despite the unstudied language and the earthy emotional and visual overloads, the pure clean regard of man to man's "essence" comes through completely. There is no trouble for that stream (despite very little truth telling) in translation between Marlowe and Lennox. My radar surmised the perp before the book reveal, but just before. And was this "ahead of its era" in the copper dissing mode or what! They parleyed like Dragnet in parts but they sure certainly didn't deal consequence the same. For those of you who even know what Dragnet was.This also has layers. With the crust of high elegance covering a seeping, teeming underlay of both stale disdain and putrefying long term soggy wounds. Marlowe is also even more rude, self-involved and most often uncaring than usual in the all around, but at his most intimate to connection here at the same time. Much more than in his other escapades, IMHO. Almost like a "Band of Brothers" thing going on. I saw that a lot with the WWII and Vietnam veterans of age myself. Not often, but with such intensity that nearly all else became "the others".Well, I am certainly going to read Little Sister and the others I'd missed now.Whew!Last thought that I couldn't get out of my mind all throughout the last third of the book! How the juxtaposition of today's (nearly 2018) opinion of men's sexual advance and women's role in the workplace for sexual alliances when it occurs. How that has been earthquake altered into such a crooked set of "eyes". Seeing so many women in business of all levels (from the factory warehouse line to the high Loop CEO offices)in the 1960's and 1970's myself! How they played the aggressive role, not every time for sure but quite often. (More than Joanie on Mad Men and especially in power/foreman factory positions.) How they (THE WOMEN)would do the visual overload so craftily and use the sex card to climb into "better". And how now in a kind of Roundhead Cromwell kind of calling out, the power monger is always slated as the nasty testosterone flawed man side of being the user! What blindness to a recognition in their being reverse directions to the dance. So much so as it has occurred in past reality especially, in order to obscure one and demonize the other while in the same sweep also judging and sentencing by rote while using the standards of one era for censure and outcomes in another!