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Writer Actor. An American novelist, writer of crime fiction featuring the private detective Philip Marlowe, Raymond Thornton Chandler was born in Chicago of an American father and an Anglo-Irish mother.

He moved to England when his parents divorced. He attended Dulwich College and studied languages in France and Germany before returning to England in and Filmography by Job Trailers and Videos. Share this page:. Murder By Author. Screenwriters I admire. List of all people nominated for Oscar. Do you have a demo reel? Add it to your IMDbPage. How Much Have You Seen? Plenty of wise cracking remarks typical of Marlowes character. Excellent narration. Rollicking good fun. By his own admission and in a running gag where he admonishes himself with the world-weary observation above, Marlowe vents his spleen in a rambling critique of the dehumanisation of that sprawling Hollywood town, the city of angels.

With first hand experience gleaned from writing original movie screenplays and having his own works adapted for the screen, Raymond Chandler utilised his knight errant private eye Marlowe to voice his cynicism and wry displeasure with the monster that is modern America, commercialised to the hilt, glittering with gilded sleaze.

This is probably the funniest of Chandler's major works. There are laugh out loud moments aplenty. Superbly read by Ray Porter. His mastery of Marlowe's wisecracking narration you expect. It is his skill with the women's voices, from the acted primness of Orfamay Quest to the Mexican purring of Dolores Gonzales. She's playing a part too, but doesn't drop the accent or the pretence despite Marlowe's scornful defrocking. A great pleasure for aficionados. Not the Marlowe to start with but icing on the cake when you come back to him 40 years after your first delightful discovery. Going back and listening to these classics has been really fun.

This is the weakest of the Chandler books so far. There is so much misdirection that by the end I am not sure I really cared "who done it".

One note about audio versions of Chandler. Ray Porter, this narrator, is great.

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The Little Sister (MP3)

Someone had the idea of getting Elliot Gould to record these books as well. Gould is painful. Sounds like he is just learning to read out loud and we are the sixth grade class made to listen. This novel used similes that were long and round and thin, like a rattailed file that has been ground smooth. This novel is a sort of sad whisper, like a mortitian asking for a down payment.

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This novel had a low lingering voice with a sort of moist caress in it like a damp bath towl. This novel felt like a nice leg. This novel was brought up straight, like the wicked foreman of the Lazy Q. This novel sounded like somebody putting aways saucepans where I was. This novel flashed like lightening. This novel burned like dry ice. This novel bounced me downstairs like a basketball.


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This novel made my brain feel like a bucket of wet sand. This novel spoke to me like a six-hundred dollar funeral. This novel made a sort of high keening noise, like a couple of pansies fighting for a piece of silk.

Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe, the Little Sister : Raymond Chandler :

This novel grew on me like scum on a water tank. This novel burned like a hot iron. This novel gave me the creeps. Like petting snakes. This novel felt like four years on a road gang. This novel had a jaw like a park bench. This novel had eyes cloudy and gret like freezing water. This novel was sad, like a fallen cake.


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This novel's similies poured like water through the floodgagtes of a dam. This novel fell on silence like a tired head on a swansdown pillow. This novel made me laugh like a child trying to be supercilious at a playroom tea party. This one might be my favorite. The writing is loose and inspired. It's like a poem. Some aspect of its original essence was still there to preserve. But after the war, the city boomed and the southland was quickly built over with housing tracts, shopping centers, and amusement parks. Southern California changed from a geographic region to a commercial enterprise.

Phillip Marlowe was there to witness the transition, and it leaves him at his most dour and cynical. But it is almost incidental to the novel, serving merely as a backdrop to Marlowe's cynical ruminations on the way southern California has been ruined. Beverly Hills was a country town. Los Angeles was just a big, dry, sunny place with ugly homes and no style, but good hearted and peaceful Little groups who thought they were intellectuals used to call it 'the Athens of America'.

It wasn't that, but it wasn't a neon lighted slum, either. As usual, his detective Marlowe figures out who the culprits are, but never really brings them to justice. That's not his job. I've been wondering why I didn't enjoy this, I've loved all the previous books in this series. By his own admission and in a running gag where he admonishes himself with the world-weary observation above, Marlowe vents his spleen in a rambling critique of the dehumanisation of that sprawling Hollywood town, the city of angels.

With first hand experience gleaned from writing original movie screenplays and having his own works adapted for the screen, Raymond Chandler utilised his knight errant private eye Marlowe to voice his cynicism and wry displeasure with the monster that is modern America, commercialised to the hilt, glittering with gilded sleaze. This is probably the funniest of Chandler's major works.