The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
The image of film noir is burned into the minds of millions because it is such a distinctive movie genre -- the look, all dark shadows and bizarre angles; the feel, tough and more likely to hit the streets than waltz with the upper crust; and the sheer energy, moving along to get through a tangled web of lies, murder, sex and corruption. But it wasn't the movies that came up with this, of course. The stories that changed the face of crime fiction the world over sprung from the minds of authors like Dashiell Hammett, James M. Cain and Raymond Chandler, whose character, Philip Marlowe, is practically a god of American crime fiction.
The Big Sleep starts simple, as many crime stories do. Marlowe, a private detective, is hired by General Sternwood to uncover the source of a blackmail note and to get the blackmailer off Sternwood's tail. While investigating, Marlowe discovers an entirely different racket going on -- a pornography dealership. The scheme behind this leads Marlowe down a trail littered with double- and triple-crosses and more than a few corpses.
Chandler's story is infamously complex (one murder is left unsolved because even Chandler himself didn't know who committed it), but it's about much more than the "Whodunit?" at the end. (I would actually argue that the outcome of the mystery is sort of unsatisfying.) Of much more importance is how Marlowe wades his way through the crime to its conclusion. Marlowe deals with the police, with shady criminals and with General Sternwood's two bizarre daughters, Carmen and Vivian. Reading the way the crime unfolds and how all these characters fit in with each other is much more entertaining than the actual mystery itself. Marlowe might not always solve a crime to his satisfaction, but he sure as hell knows how to investigate it.
And he does it with such style. This is the kind of writing I love -- it's direct and to the point, but the way the language is used gives it such a wonderful voice. Marlowe is a tough guy; however, he's not averse to cracking wise every now and then in a show of bravado. And, in particular moments, he just seems to go crazy for the hell of it. Marlowe's personality lives and breathes through the writing. He's written about as well as a character can be.
When people think of these pulp detective novels, one thing that comes to mind immediately is the dialogue. These people are mainly of the streets, and they have a particular way of communicating that is captured so well. The characters may not always be intelligent, but they have their special brand of wit that allows them to duel with anyone in the field of speaking. It's a way of toughening oneself up to match the hard nature of life on the streets. Nimble thinkers live longer than the slow.
Modern crime fiction owes a tremendous debt to Raymond Chandler -- The Big Sleep is a massive part of the detective novel's current template, and if you see a show with a detective satire episode, it's more than likely a few of the cliches came from Chandler's pen. This is far from a bundle of cliches, though. The pure energy exuded by the writing is something that's pretty damn special. Chandler was a gifted writer. The Big Sleep is proof of that.
