The Big Sleep is Raymond Chandler’s first book featuring hard-boiled private investigator Philip Marlowe. The plot involves luscious dames, glowering gangsters, and a missing husband who is possibly on the lam.
The absolute best thing about this book was the writing. Chandler has a knack for completely original turns of phrase. For example:
The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men.
The General spoke again, slowly, using his strength as carefully as an out-of-work show-girl uses her last good pair of stockings.
Her whole body shivered and her face fell apart like a bride’s pie crust.
It would be easy to chuckle a bit at Chandler’s flinty writing, as so many have parodied it over time. But he’s one of the original noir writers, and his clever similes just hit different. It was such a pleasure to follow Marlowe’s adventures with naked dames and shifty characters while enjoying the fun writing.
While The Big Sleep is set up like a mystery, the solution isn’t as important as the journey. Don’t get me wrong, the solution was quite good, but the colorful way the plot unfolds should be savored. Marlowe comes across as a stand-up guy in many ways, although he travels the darker side of life. Note: if you are an ex-smoker this will tempt you to pick up a cigarette. It’s like watching a movie from the thirties with how much everyone lights up (and slams back booze).