Farewell, My Lovely (Phillip Marlowe)

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It’s often a wonder Marlowe gets anything done when half the time he’s soaking himself in bourbon while seemingly trying to burn bridges with his smarmy attitude and general distaste for anyone he meets. The big man turned him in the air and slid his gaudy shoes apart on the scaly linoleum that covered the floor. What I like most about Farewell is the evocation of Bay City, a respectable Californian seaside community which hides a grimy heart. I could, perhaps, talk more about how Philip Marlowe has spawned the long-lasting archetype for the gruff, wise-cracking broody and flawed detective with a heart of gold. Those descriptions materialized in front of me more than pages of less polished prose could accomplish.

In Chandler's case, it is an incredible description or metaphor or stylized piece of dialogue that will make you scream, and they'll be screams of delight. The story has all the elements Chandler is best known for biting humor, colorful characters that include gangsters and lawmen with violent streaks and hair-trigger temperaments, a keen insight into the sordid lives of society’s rich and powerful, and a private detective with a taste for alcohol and the soul of an avenging angel. Chandler worked on the book from June to December 1939, before destroying the entire typescript and starting again.For Farewell, My Lovely, you get the film images of Dick Powell and Robert Mitchum many decades later. Suffice it to say that this is the second full-length novel featuring Los Angeles detective Philip Marlowe, following The Big Sleep, which had been published in 1939. It was published in 1940,and the content is somewhat old fashioned,but every time I open this book,I can meet timeless Philip Marlowe,a man of principle. There is a long sequence at the docks, on the water and in a ship offshore, that just plod along; no forward motion to the plot, no incentive to stay up late reading more. Discover the newest addition to the inimitable Philip Marlowe series - Only to Sleep by Lawrence Osborne - out 6 September 2018 in hardback and ebook from Hogarth.

Un duro, uno che non molla e si districa tra bugie e manganellate citando Shakespeare, facendo riferimenti a Rembrandt tanto per farci capire che non è l’ultimo dei caproni. But in this novel, I noticed that Marlowe tunes in to things that a typical hard head wouldn’t: he muses on how a building’s lobby is decorated, and he assesses the foliage growing out front.The second in the Philip Marlowe series in which he gets caught up in a murder connected to a ring of jewel thieves. It was adapted in a condensed form under the title of Murder My Sweet on Hollywood Star Time, broadcast on 8 June 1946, starring Dick Powell. Lindsay Marriott, maybe a loathsome gigolo, he dresses well though and has good manners, involved with the wife of a multi -millionaire among others, the beautiful Mrs. In this his second adventure, private detective Philip Marlowe – more or less in between cases – pokes his inquisitive nose where it doesn’t belong. The writing is sharp and extravagant, utterly distinctive, and the observations on LA create an atmosphere that permeates the text.

Unfortunately, Moose is kind of simple and doesn’t know his own strength so he ends up killing somebody when asking questions. Here are two examples: "The moist air was cold as the ashes of a dead love" and "the voice became as cold as a canteen meal. The big cornpoppers were rolling north growling as they went and festooned all over with green and yellow overhang lights.

I love his descriptions of the town: 'Beyond the electroliers, beyond the beat and toot of the small sidewalk cars, beyond the smell of hot fat and popcorn and the small children and the barkers in the peep shows, beyond everything but the smell of the ocean. Beyond the electroliers, beyond the beat and toot of the small sidewalk cars, beyond the smell of hot fat and popcorn and the shrill children and the barkers in the peep shows, beyond everything but the smell of the ocean and the suddenly clear line of the shore and the creaming fall of the waves into the pebbled spume.

Marlowe meets Malloy one hot day in Hollywood and, out of the generosity of his jaded heart, agrees to help. It's a classic of crime fiction; it was first published in 1940, and it's been reviewed thousands of times, mostly by people far more competent than I. This book is absolutely soaking in quotables and may have the best prose of any noir I’ve ever read.

Marlowe is working a boring job trying to find a missing husband when he has the bad luck to come across Moose Malloy. Così si designano nell’ambiente poliziesco gli afroamericani poiché proprio come gli scarafaggi sono esseri infimi non degni di rientrare nella cerchia umana.