Thursday, 24 September 2015

Philip Marlowe – Raymond Chandler



I’ve already mentioned how I started reading Chandler and Hammett because of Pulp Fiction’s poster.

Yes, Philip Marlowe is the epitome of cool: hard when he needs to, suave in the few cases when he should be so, gifted with women, tough with thugs, and – ultimately – always right, even when he’s wrong. But in Chandler’s books the narrator is (often, if not always – I don’t know as I haven’t read all his books) Marlowe himself. And to me that makes him sound, well, like he’s trying a bit too hard. I mean, if you’re trying to show how great you are, you surely don’t need to tell your reader how wonderfully witty your deadpan one-liners actually are, do you? Shouldn’t your actions do the talking for you, instead of your unreliably biased pen?

This is just a thought: Chandler’s books are wonderfully entertaining (although maybe not great literature), but a third person narrator would actually add swag (if it was ever needed) to his detective...

No comments:

Post a Comment