One doesn't read Chandler for plot (which is fortunate, because the plot here is nebulous). One reads Chandler for his wonderful noir descriptions, for the world-weary atmosphere, and for the beautiful sentences. For using sentences where Marlowe distinguishes between Browning the weapon and Browning the poet. Where he uses elegant similes to describe sordid business. I think that's the biggest draw for me: the gorgeous manipulation of the language juxtaposed with the sleazy subject matter.
It really struck me in the book how much of an alter ego Philip Marlowe was for his author. Marlowe smokes a pipe, something I see in many of the photos of Chandler. He consumes alcohol like his life depends on it. If he's not kissing some dame, he's got one throwing herself at him. Unfortunately for the women who would like to distract him, Marlowe sees through that ploy because he sees it so often. Poor women don't have much else to use to their advantage.
“Chandler was by 1931 a highly paid vice president of the Dabney Oil Syndicate, but his alcoholism, absenteeism, promiscuity with female employees, and threatened suicides contributed to his dismissal a year later.” (Wikipedia)
Sounds a lot like Marlowe (without the suicide attempts). I have to say that I'm kind of impressed that the Syndicate fired him. I have no idea how they treated the women that Chandler was promiscuous with, but I appreciate that the highly paid man got turfed instead of just gently smacked on the wrist.
Not up to the level of his first two Marlowe books, but still I enjoyed it a fair bit.
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