Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe detective stories, while never dull, can sometimes have almost hysterical, over-the-top plots which become terribly confusing to decipher. Fortunately the cracking dialogue and bizarre characters compensate nicely. In The High Window the author takes a breather, and delivers a story which is relatively simple ... and enjoyable to read.

Like in many Marlowe stories, our naughty private eye is hired by a rich recluse. This time the recluse is a rich widow who believes her trashy daughter-in-law has stolen a rare coin inherited from her deceased hubby. As Marlowe investigates we understand that the daughter-in-law keeps some rather nasty company, and before long Marlowe is tangled in multiple homicide situation. Of course in the end it is all resolved in a surprisingly uncontrived way (..at least by Raymond Chandler standards).

My only real complaint, or rather disappointment, is the general absence of Marlowe's normally razor-sharp sarcasm. In other books Marlowe can be extremely brutish with the ladies, and the ladies all fall in love with him. In The High Window we do not see this side of Marlowe, and so he seems somewhat two-dimensional in this story.

Bottom line: most definitely not a Chandler classic, but certainly a very enjoyable read. Recommended.

I decided to give this Raymond Chandler novel a shot after a vexing round of midterm examinations. If I didn't read something light and entertaining, my head would have exploded! I'd never read noir before, but I found this book to be pretty representative of what one pictures when one thinks of noir: seedy characters and snappy dialogue in a big, dark city teeming with danger. Chandler apparently gave new life to this genre when he wrote a few (an unfortunate few) crime novels starring Phillip Marlowe, a private detective who has since become immortalized in film and T.V. Chandler didn't even start writing these books until he was in his late 50's. Thank goodness he did write them, because this book is a real hoot!

The High Window finds Marlowe on the trail of a missing coin called the Brasher doubloon. Within a few pages we begin to see an endless parade of seedy and suspicious characters, such as Mrs. Murdock, a port-drinking hothead who hires Marlowe to find the coin. Other characters include a scummy nightclub owner, a couple of dirty dames, and a cast of supporting characters both wicked and wise. At the center of it all is Marlowe, doggedly pursuing the truth through all the deceits and danger. I really can't go into the story because doing so would probably ruin the suspense for anyone who hasn't read the book. Just be prepared to see some wacky characters and great scenes.

This book wouldn't be worth mentioning at all if it weren't for the dialogue. The language in this book is so clever and snappy that it literally makes the story. You'll howl out loud at some of the smart quips Marlowe tosses off as he tries to track down the doubloon. Another interesting aspect of the book is that everything occurs in the present tense. There is almost no history to know or anything in the future to worry about. This makes the story scream along at a fast pace; so fast that you won't want to put the book down. I never really thought I'd care for crime noir, but this book makes me want to read more! Recommended.

Raymond Chandler has written some excellent crime/mystery novels, and this is no exception. The High Window was Chandler's third novel with Philip Marlowe. But don't worry if you haven't read the first two (The Big Sleep & Farewell, My Lovely) because The High Window could easily have been the first book.

This novel works for several reasons. First, it is very easy to read. This is a 'page-turner' in every sense of the term. Secondly, the story is interesting and always has your attention. Chandler unveils the story in a way that makes you want to keep reading. Finally, the characters are almost always well done. Of course, Philip Marlowe is a great character, an old tough guy with some great dialogue. Although the book was published in the early 1940's, it does not feel like it at all.

To those unaquainted with Chandler, the closest thing I could compare it to would be the 1974 movie CHINATOWN, written by Robert Towne. That's the style of it. It's different from Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot.

Give it a shot. Chances are it will grab you and you'll read it quickly.

I have always been a fan of all hard-boiled detective novels, but these 4 by Raymond Chandler are some of the best I have ever read. Phillip Marlowe never does the same thing twice and is always interesting to read about. My favorite part of these books is the witty dialouge. Chandler's quotes are fantastic and laugh out loud funny. Although the plots sometimes get a bit off topic(for example, in Farewell My Lovely, Marlowe starts out looking for a dame named Velma and that seems to be the main plot, but then she isn't mentioned again for over 20 chapters), they are great books that everyone should read.

This book provides an entertaining look at film adaptations of Chandler's books and at the movies made from his screenplays. If you've read anything about Chandler, nothing here will be news to you, but if you haven't, this is a good introduction, with long plot-summary-type discussions of the movies and plenty of pictures.

Is it possible for a book to be both invaluable and annoyingly almost unreadable? If so, this is the one. Phillips is absolutely on target in both his evaluation of Chandler's place in literature (High) and his fascinating comparisons of book to film of EVERYTHING the author wrote. Fans of Marlowe, fans of detective stories, fans of film noir, and film fans in general, will find a treasure trove within these pages. B U T.... Phillips writes like a student who has been given a writing assignment of "x" number of words and has to fulfill it. Either that or someone who is being paid by the word! Not only does he repeat the same information, often with virtually the same words, two, three, four, and more times within the book, he often does so within the same paragraph, and, on occasion, the same sentence! If you can, as I did, learn to spot this trend and skip whole passages as less necessary than a sequel to "Little Nicky", there is much to be gleaned from the book. Just resist throwing it against the wall in exasperation.

A very interesting and thorough examination of the film-related work of mystery legend Raymond Chandler, creator of the ultimate film noir gumshoe, Phillip Marlowe. The books follows Chandler's career and work from pulpy dime detective story-writer, to novelist, to screenwriter. Chandler was an odd, cantankerous fellow who hated working in Hollywood, but the character he created is forever in the pantheon of American detective film heroes.

This biography reads very well, but it's almost impossible to understand, as other reviewers have noted, how Mr. Hiney could have made such egregious errors recounting the plot of Farewell, My Lovely. It calls into question the possible accuracy of his research into biographical details. On pages 116-117 of the paperback edition, there are three key errors. First, Hiney indicates Marriott was killed by his cronies, but it was Velma/Mrs. Grayle who killed him. Next Hiney claims Jules Amthor was a pyschiatrist, but Amthor was a psychic consultant. Hiney then uses Marlowe's sarcastic portrayal of the people who call on Amthor as a veiled reference to Chandler's views on psychiatrists, whom Chandler had consulted during his bouts with alcoholism during his oil industry days. The leap taken by here by Hiney on wrong information is just mind-boggling. On a far less egregious error he quotes Anne Riordan as saying to Marlowe "Do you have to say things like that?" because, according to Mr. Hiney, "Anne is fond of Marlowe, but doesn't like the swear words he uses." But Anne's response isn't to a swear word, instead it comes after this line from Marlowe: "The Mayor is doing all this, changing his pants hourly while the crisis lasts." This error is minor compared to confusing who killed Marriott and the psychiatrist/psychic consultant problem, but as a third mistake within justs two pages, any reader who's familiar with Marlowe's books may be ready to throw Hiney's biography out the window. And that's a shame because it's a very readable bio.

Tom Hiney brings no new material to this biography and no startling new approach to the previous and very enjoyable biography by Frank MacShane. This is however a more contemporary book, written with a breezy journalistic style which makes it hard to put down, indeed compulsive. Not least in its charms is the snap and crackle of nearly everything Chandler himself wrote, not least the letters, which Hiney is wise enough to quote from liberally.

My main complaint is that I came away from this book with a sense of the author's disgust at his subject's decline into chaotic behaviour and helplessness after the death of his wife. My recollection of the MacShane book is of a certain tragic sympathy in the treatment of Chandler's last, disasterous years. Here one feels Hiney is disappointed with Chandler, that somehow the hero he has been peddling let him down. It is somehow the reader of the biography who is let down, suddenly finding the author whose wit he has grown rather fond of, dismissed as a sad old drunk. A readable book, but skip the ending if you like your Chandler, and go to the letters - which do not fail to show this sad, witty man at his droll best.

While other reviewers apparently fault the author for daring to depict the rather ordinary demise of the "great man", Chandler's life was more devoted to his isolation and misogyny than it was to his novels. Hiney's triumph is showing what an interesting life it was, nonetheless. Chandler was just a writer who loved words more than he loved people, who loaded up his cynicism in neat little rounds and fired at humanity with some precision. That same cynicism drove him to view life through the bottom of a shot glass, at no little cost to his art (or I suppose as some might argue to enhance his art). Mostly he wanted to get it right - mostly he did, especially in "The Long Goodbye". I like that Hiney doesn't let the extraordinary Mr. Marlowe overshadow the strains of ordinariness in Chandler's character. I certainly enjoy Chandler's fiction the greater for this very good life.

I was surprised that so much material from a previous collection ('Selected letters of Raymond Chandler', ed. McShane, 1981)is repeated in this book. Maybe I didn't do my homework, but I don't recall this fact being mentioned in promotions or reviews. When you're paying (as I did) [price] for a book, it's disappointing to keep coming across previously published letters. Chandler's writing is still great, but I'm sure he'd have something to say about this practice.

What a fun collection this is! Another book of letters by another famous author I read recently was embarrassingly boring--it never should have been printed. But Chandler's style and pithy observations make this collection a treat. Though a loner and a lush, he maintained cordial relations with his colleagues, and his comments on the passing scene are keen. From acerbic observations on life in southern California, to wry descriptions of his cat's habits, to sometimes generous and sometimes acerbic appraisals of agents, publishers, and fellow writers, his prose is absolutely sparkling.

His coverage of Oscars night in the mid-Forties for The Atlantic magazine is a masterpiece of scorn for the glitterati. Around the same time he accurately dismisses the new medium of television's supposed threat to the book industry. People who tune in to watch "fourth-rate club fighters rub noses on the ropes are not losing any time from book reading." Just as frequently, Chandler comes across as thoughtful and a good friend--not at all Marlowe-ish, though you get the feeling he could be a tough guy if need be. If you read only one book of collected letters of a famous author this year, etc.

Chandler had probably never seen most of the people with whom he corresponded in his letters, but his opinions on everything from the plight of the writer in Hollywood to the merits of housecats are not only witty and memorable, but also indicate an extremely thoughtful man and first-rate analytical mind. The only problem I had with Hiney's editing is that a bit more could have been explained--although some of the context of each letter is provided, additional information would have been helpful. I believe I would have appreciated Chandler's observations even more had this been the case.

Chandler wrote but 7 novels and most critics and readers divide them into two groups, the first four beginning with The Big Sleep and ending with The Lady in the Lake. These were the books that, if you hadn't already read Hammett, introduced the hardboiled thriller and the Southern California noir scene of the 30s and 40s to the general public. Most readers tend to feel that these were Chandler's best books.

He wrote three more, however, The Little Sister in the late 40s, The Long Goodbye in the early 50s, and Playback a few years later. The Little Sister is generally fairly favorably viewed, and there are many critics and readers who feel that The Long Goodbye is Chandler's masterpiece. It is his longest, most subtle, most introspective, and, to me, his most compelling. Many people consider it a major part of American literature and I think it might well be the best thriller ever written.

Playback, written after Chandler had moved to LaJolla, his beloved wife had died, and his alcoholism had become semi-acute, is a disaster. The writing is flat and uninspired, the metaphors and similes that once flowed so brilliantly are forced and trite ("he was an impervious as the square root of minus five"), and Marlowe is clearly just going through the motions.

If you've read all the others and loved them, I probably can't dissuade you from reading this one. If you liked the grotesquely bad Poodle Springs Murders started by Chandler and finished by Robert Parker, then you'll probably find this one acceptable also. If you barely made your way through Poodle Springs, you'll feel the same about Playback -- and wish that Chandler's last book had been the brilliant Long Goodbye.

Why do I love Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe novels so much? I love them for Marlowe's edgy, wisecracking comments that drive its recipients mad. I love the gorgeous, incendiary women who linger just a bit on this side of evil. I love the twisty and turny plots and Marlowe's dogged search for the truth. In a world full of liars and crooks one can always depend upon Philip Marlowe's steely honesty and integrity. He is never in it for the money.

"Playback" has all of these elements but, unfortunately, in far lesser quantities than in Chandler's other Philip Marlowe books. In "Playback" Marlowe is assigned to follow this woman without knowing why and to report back on what he finds out about her. All the typical plot devices are there, but the results are far less than scintillating and are sometimes rather dull. If I were to pick out, however, my favorite part of the book it would be Marlowe's conversation with an elderly and infirm man who is staying at a hotel where Marlowe is holed up. Their discussion about the belief in God is incredibly sharp and extremely relevant to a man of Marlowe's profession.

All in all, despite its shortcomings, "Playback," while not top Chandler, is still Philip Marlowe and that can never be bad.

If not my very favorite author, Raymond Chandler is up in the top five. Which is why I loath to rate this book as I do.

The Big Sleep and The Long Goodbye were masterworks in Noir literature. The imagery in The Lady in the Lake and Farwell, My Lovely drew you in.

Playback, sadly, is but a shadow of the greats it followed. Shallow images, a not quite transparent plot, and well established characters acting, well, out of character. Marlowe burns a few bridges in this final novel (I've read Poodle Springs, and that wasn't Marlowe), and I think Chandler knew the end was near.

Whenever I get the urge to slip back into Marlowe's trenchcoat (and those urges come often), I still read the series all the way through. But this book is like a ride home from Disneyland: It's a necessary part of the journey, but the one you look forward to the least.

This was an exceedingly disappointing book. The stories were almost all adequately written but few of them did justice to Chandler's creation. Stuart Kaminsky and Max Allan Collins, as well as a couple of others, turn in admirable efforts. One star of my rating is for them. The other star is for Chandler's story 'The Pencil' alone.

It is fine that the authors speak in their own voice; who, after all, could truly duplicate Chandler's awesome prose? Yet they not only fail to match his skill, they fail to match his intent. Too often in this collection, Marlowe is bastardized for the sake of the author's political leanings, to advance a cause.

Marlowe was a hero in spite of himself, a champion of the lower classes, one with probable leftward leanings. (Chandler had acquired a refined dislike, or at least mistrust, of the upper crust during his formative years in England.) But as Marlowe prowled the mean streets righting wrongs, seeing that justice was done when the law would not quite do it, Chandler never allowed himself to preach. And that is what a couple of these stories do. It was a testament to Chandler's supreme skill that he could be such a strong voice for counterculture and yet ultimately fight to keep some type of moral status quo in gray circumstances.

Authors paying tribute to Dickens would not portray Tiny Tim as walking into a bank, speechifying on the plight of the poor and beating the rich old moneychangers on their heads with his crutch. And authors paying tribute to Chandler should not have had him doing many of the pettily pointed things he was doing in this book. Does anyone really think Marlowe would punch someone connected with the HUAC and sanctimoniously call him an a******? There are other similar forays into homiletic demagoguery. They are hollow, totally out of place, and out of character. Marlowe didn't operate that way, and it cheapens an icon to act as though he did.

Interestingly, and not surprisingly, those authors who fudged with the legacy the most were also those who said in their brief comments that they were the least influenced by Chandler. Why include them?

Check it out from your local library, read it, and return it; it's not worth purchasing.

In the title to this review, I borrowed Chandler's quote from his essay, "The Simple Art of Murder." It does seem appropriate, for this volume is the ultimate celebration of Raymond Chandler's genius -- simply because of the failure of most of the writers who partake herein!

The premise of this anthology is simple: Published for the centennial celebration of Raymond Chandler's birth; therefore, invite the top mystery writers of the day (1989) to submit a short story involving his ultimate literary creation, Phillip Marlowe, set between 1933 (the year in which Chandler published his first short story) and 1959 (the year of Chandler's death, and the year in which he published his last short story).

Real simple, huh? (Hah!)

Frankly, only Max Allan Collins (of 'Nate Heller' fame) comes even remotely close, in his roman-a-clef treatment of Hollywood star Thelma Todd's murder. (Note: Chandler himself would use not only certain aspects of her death -- i.e., a question of the slippers she was wearing ['The Lady In The Lake'] -- but the Santa Monica location itself [the description of Lindsey Marriott's Bay City address in 'Farewell My Lovely']. Chandler based many of his own short stories -- as well as the circumstances in at least two of his novels -- on contemporary Los Angeles history and events.)

This collection, as I mentioned previously, memorializes Raymond Chandler's success through the failures of subsequent authors. (These failures are due to many individual shortcomings, a lack of knowledge of L.A. history and development, on the one hand; or, frankly, of geography, on the other, as well as a simple lack of understanding of Chandler's concept for his protagonist -- i.e., one particular story which practically canonizes Marlowe back in his Santa Rosa hometown -- let alone his singular vision.)

A collection of very good mystery writers took part in this project. Their failure to recreate Raymond Chandler's singular vision is in no way a criticism, but rather a stirring acknowledgment of his achievement. It is also a testament as to why, again, as Chandler put it, "So many continue to assault the citadel."

Raymond Chandler and Philip Marlowe are the beginning of modern detective fiction, along with Hammett and Spade. Chandler was a preeminent stylist who wrote his way into American letters by helping to create a genre, the private eye novel. He cut his teeth writing short stories for pulps in the twenties and thirties, so it's appropriate that this collection highlights short stories. The stories were written by contemporary authors; the idea was to have them write stories with Marlowe as the main character, covering the period in which Marlowe figured in short stories that Chandler wrote. There is one story per year, with several on the back end of the collection that don't carry an exact date, and one story ("The Pencil") written by Chandler himself, late in life, to round things out.

The collection is, of course, uneven. Most of the writers more or less produce Chandler-like prose and characters, but some of the plots are distinctly unlike the great one. The collection starts off on the right foot with a Max Allan Collins story which is very good, and in the Collins mold. It's a historical mystery revolving around a thin pastiche of an old Hollywood mystery: who killed actress Thelma Todd? The rest of the stories are written by such leading lights as Robert Crais, Sara Paretsky, and Loren D. Estleman. They're rounded out by stories from such also-rans and where-are-they-nows as Benjamin Schutz, Francis Nevins Jr., Jonathan Valin, and Jeremiah Healy. I don't want to give the impression that I don't like any of the latter collection of writers (I particularly enjoyed Schutz), but they can hardly be called contemporaries, given that they haven't written in years.

I did enjoy the collection of stories, and I enjoyed the premise of the collection itself. I found the stories uneven. Some of them are very good, but some are overly cute. Two feature Chandler as a character, interacting with Marlowe. In one of those, he also butts heads with Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss), who's only there, apparently, because he's Dr. Seuss. It's all a bit much. However, I overall enjoyed the collection, and would recommend it.

My biggest complaint about The Notebooks of Raymond Chandler is that it is just that, Raymond Chandler's musings and clippings that were found in his notebooks. Some of the pieces are interesting,but far to few are actually written by Chandler. Even some that are serve absolutely no purpose i.e. "A note on typewritter ribbon dating" and "the rules to craps" While still others have been printed countless times in other volumes "Notes (very brief please) on English and American Style" and "Twelve notes on the Mystery Story" Instead of these and the writings of other authors I would have rather had a book of the lost writings of Raymond Chandler. Such entries would include "Prefessor Bingo's Snuff" "The Bronze Door" "Oscar Night in Hollywood" "Backfire" "Ten Percent of your Life" Poetry and essays from Chandler during his days at the Gazette. Some of these thnigs have been published but every book or magazine has been long since out of print. It seems this one has as well. I have searched high and low for many of these things including this book itself. (I have found most of them, this particular book was bought on Ebay) Some highlights from this book include "A Qualified Farewell" and of course "English Summer"