Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Farewell My Lovely


I just finished reading Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler, which is the second novel in his series based on the famous fictional detective Philip Marlowe. I read the first novel in this series, The Big Sleep just a while ago, and both are available in the amazing Classic Penguin series for just under ten dollars each.

While I'm not a crime fiction addict I've read my fair share of detective fiction, and since doing a crime fiction course at uni I've been fascinated with the ideas expressed in the genre - ideas about society, the individual, the law, concepts of self, responsibility and more. Perhaps the most interesting thing about detective or crime fiction is its evolution over time, with each new take on the genre representing and depicting the concerns and paranoia of the time. This proceeds from the birth of the detective figure in Edgar Allan Poe's Dupan character, through Victorian sensationalist fiction, Sherlock Holmes, hardboiled detective fiction, the police detective, psychological thriller and the good old ever-franchised forensic detective fiction. Through all of these styles there are repeated and reflected chiche's that are expressed in new or conventional ways. Anyone wanting an example of this only has to watch Friday Night Crime on ABC1 for a plethora of BBC detective and crime shows. The situations might be different, but the general ideas are always the same.

My interest in detective fiction made me quite look forward to Raymond Chandler, particularly because of my general love for all things noir, and also because, like Holmes, Marlowe has come to represent a whole genre in popular imagination. He is the archetypal hardboiled detective, an image continually referred to, even if it is only in passing. But more than that, Marolowe represents a shift in the idea of crime, society and the individual. More on that later.

The Big Sleep.
I read the big sleep with a lot of expectation for the hardboiled, wisecracking detective, and was let down to a certain extent. The Philip Marlowe in his first incarnation certainly fits the description, and the plot is engaging and twisting - yes, there is a femme fatale - but there was something lacking. Marlowe's wisecracks seemed a little forced and his swagger a little constructed. But the key aspects of his character did develop through the novel, aspects which really do become interesting when figured into the tropes of detective fiction.

Farewell, My Lovely

The second novel in the Marlowe series blew me away. There was more depth, more grit, more pain, more alcohol. For crime fiction, the novel is very well written, with the wisecracks and the language becoming shimmeringly poetical in places. The plot is confusing and twisting, the narrative jarring and disjointing, the characters mean and ugly and confronting. And it is all quite deliciously readable.

The main difference I found from The Big Sleep is the increase of paranoia. Nearly every dialogue Marlowe has with another character is in some way combative and distrustful. Every character harbours some sort of malice or potential malice towards him, and it is rare to encounter a character he considers to be equal. Twists and double-crossings happen so quickly it is sometimes hard to keep up. Characters appear midway through paragraphs only to disappear again - many times I found myself having to re-read passages, or completely lost in dialogue that somehow conveys more meaning than the reader is aware of. It seems as if everybody has it in for Marlowe, as he careens from one fist to another.

The middle of the novel a particularly good example of the paranoia and noir feel that really makes Farewell My Lovely stand out. Marlowe visits a strange psychic who appears central to the plot and is buried deep in the seething criminal underbelly of the city. The events unfold in a barely-conscious way, with strange and mysterious exoticism and malice. The narration slowly descends into a surreal dream-like state, and we realise that Marlowe has been drugged and set-up.

Many chapters begin with Marlowe regaining consciousness, and I think that this is a central motif of the novel and of Marlowe's crime-fighting in general. Throughout the novel drugs are used, and I'm hardly exaggerating when I make the observation that I think about a sixth of the novel's word count is dedicated entirely to the description of the act of drinking and pouring glasses of whiskey. In Farewell My Lovely, crime is the norm, not the exception.

Crime And The Detective In Farewell

The most interesting aspect of crime fiction is the insight it gives into various ideas of the nature of crime itself - ideas that are generally shaped by the time and context of the fiction itself. Early crime fiction is generally shaped like a puzzle, fashioned around the locked-room scenario: a crime (originally a theft, but then tending towards murder) happens in a locked room to which only a select few had access. What ensues is a process of investigating any clues, tracking down the likely suspects who end up being red-herrings, only to find that the solution to the crime is the very person we never suspected, say the mild-mannered and gentile butler.

This formula is repeated again and again, with new elements added. Sensationalist crime fiction takes this and mixes in elements of household and domestic drama and scandal: there are secret affairs, spying and manipulating servants, blackmail and murder. The Sherlock Holmes stories all involve seemingly 'unsolvable mysteries' to which Holmes directs his superior intellect and wit, solving the crime and therefore restoring order. The key aspect here is the role of the detective as an 'agent of stabilization.' Crime is an asymmetry, something that violates the norm and therefore results in stress, pain and suffering. The solution of the crime - and only the solution - will return the original normality and bring justice to victims and perpetrators alike. The detective in his/her role as hero, must work against the grain, usually creating more tension and unease in order to bring forth the denouement.

In traditional crime fiction, crime is an aberration but, crucially, a scaffold of normality is provided from which to solve the crime. The detective interviews the guests and servants of the house, one by one, to compare eyewitness accounts. Paint-scrapings are found on door-frames, footprints beneath windows, mysterious cigarette ash identified. The detective provides direction and logical understanding to the chaos of crime, and incomprehensible events are 'read' to provide explanation.

But Philip Marlowe inhabits a different world to the English country manor. Crime, for Marlowe, is the norm and there is an overwhelming sense of festering corruption and menace throughout the novel. The world is a big bad place and it will never be any other way. Crime is not a discernible evil that can be solved like a puzzle and forgotten about, but a chaotic miasma involving everyone, to some extent. Cops are crooked, bad guy gangsters turn out to actually be more honourable than the mayors they pay to get elected. Take this dialogue between Marlowe and one of the crooked cops:

"'Listen, pally,' said the big man seriously. 'You got me on a string, but it could break. Cops don't go crooked for money. Not always, not even often. They got me caught in the system. They get you where they have you do what is told them or else. And the guy that sits back there in the nice big corner office, with the nice suit and the nice liquor breath he thinks chewing them seeds makes him smell like violets, only it don't - he ain't giving the orders either. You get me?'
'What kind of man is the mayor?'
'What kind of man is the mayor anywhere? A politician.You think he gives the orders? Nuts. You know what's the matter with this country, baby?'
'Too much frozen capital, I heard.'
'A guy can't stay honest if he wants to,' Hemingway said. 'That's what's the matter with this country. He gets chiseled out of his pants if he does. You gotta play the game dirty or you don't eat. A lot of bastards think that all we need is ninety thousand F.B.I men in clean collars and brief cases. Nuts. The percentage would get them just the way it does the rest of us. You know what I think? I think we gotta make this little world all over again. Now take Moral Rearmament. There you've got something. M.R.A There you've got something, baby.' "

Marlowe does not 'fight' crime. He investigates it. His involvement with the cases he solves is by means of employment, and will return the money if he feels he has not done his job properly. This is his means of survival.

He drinks to escape reality, and I think that this is the most haunting theme of Farewell's noir feel. Narrative is poised in a world between consciousness and sleep. Marlowe looses consciousness more times than I could count: many chapters begin with him regaining consciousness after being hit over the head. Events happen quickly, so quickly it seems that time distorts. What I took to be four or five days of novel-time ended up being two days. For Marlowe, pursuing crime is akin to stumbling through a surreal dream-land. It is a means of survival as much as it is a means of escape from the everyday mundane brutality and the realisation that crime is not a tangible, discernible thing, but is dispersed throughout every aspect of life.

The only solution is to keep on sleeping.

1 comment:

  1. I enjoyed your assessment of Chandler: informative and well-written. I'd be interested to hear what you make of any of the Julius Falconer books.

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