If you know have ever read a book by R.B. Parker you will find yourself in a familiar environment in this book. Parker sets himself a brave task in writing a sequel to Raymond Chandler's "The Big Sleep" and succeeds in pulling it off superbly. Parker is one of the rare modern writers who still believe that characters can have principles, and live by them even in extreme circumstances. Although this is not Parker's best work, I still recommend this book in which, in my opinion, Parker surpasses one of the legends of detective fition, Raymond Chandler.

a little background is in order (as I understand it): the heirs of Chandler approached Parker to finish the Poodle Springs manuscript, and part of the deal was that he had to write one more Marlowe story. 'Dream' is that one more. The job was almost impossible to begin with (Chandler's drinking had taken the edge off his talent by that time, and the Poodle manuscript got off on the wrong foot to boot), the Chandler fans ripped it for not being up to Chandler's prime (which even Chandler himself wasn't, towards the end), the Parker fans ripped it for not being true Spencer, and Parker felt the strain of wearing another man's shoes. So by the time he got to this one, my guess is, his heart wasn't in it. He's said he'll never do another Marlowe book. That said, it's still good to have Marlowe back, cracking wise and cruising the mean streets again. I liked it better than Chandler's "The Pencil", and better than some of the Spencer books! I just wish Parker would reconsider, and do another Marlowe book without the pressures and constraints of a contract. Marlowe, like Sherlock, is a detective who deserves to live on after his progenitor, but the return of L.A.'s hard-boiled prose-poet is, perchance, just a dream.

Robert B. Parker comes the closest to the attitude of Phillip Marlowe. Stuart Kaminsky writes his Toby Peters stories more for laughs. Andrew Bergman (The Big Kiss-Off of 1944) had flashes where he nailed the speech, but was more in keeping with Spillane overall. William Nolan (The Marble Orchard) copies some of the dialogue- and I do mean copies- in his enjoyable Chandlerian mystery. And there are others, myriad others. But none of them get it quite right.

Neither does Parker, but he comes the closest. He matches the world-weariness, the cynicism and the reluctant romanticism, finding the knight in tarnished armor that is Marlowe. Yes, he very nearly matches the attitude. But he falls short with the style.

Chandler nearly ruined literature for me, because everything about every line of his writing'- the dialogue, the descriptions, the societal observations'- is so incredibly entertaining. Nothing can meet its rarified level. So I try to make due with 'close-enoughs.' When I finish a Chandler novel, I am depressed it came to an end; when I closed Parker's Perchance To Dream, it elicited a 'That's all there is?'

In P2D, the narrative is much too straightforward. The villain was clear from the first quarter of the book and there were few mysteries to solve. No convoluted Black Mask motives, no people impersonating other people. Marlowe doesn't even get sapped until distressingly late in the story. There is only one real subplot; then that ties in with the other so they can both be too-neatly wrapped up. It becomes clear what Marlowe must do and he sets out to do it. Then, very abruptly, the novel is over. It is strenuous but not complex. There is no last minute twist because the story followed a Spenser-like plot; it more resembles the structure of the first Lethal Weapon movie than it does that of The Big Sleep.

And as 50 years have passed between the publishing of the original novel and this one, some subtlety has been forsaken. Parker shows welcome restraint given the subject matter, but Carmen's decadence seemed in Chandler's novel somehow exotic and vague. In P2D, as postmodern psychology and sensibilities are applied, it seems cold and open and dirty.

Still, there is a lot that is great in this book. The flashbacks and tips-of-the-hat to the original novel come off better than they might have. We root for Marlowe and hiss the villain, as we should. Parker has penned an abundance of juicy wisecracks and has figured out how to end his chapters in the bittersweet tone much like Chandler accomplished. And the story, despite what I said above, is furiously-paced and viscerally entertaining. It just isn't Chandler.

Perchance To Dream is a good novel; but when someone slaps the words 'Sequel to The Big Sleep' on the cover of anything it had better be blackjack-to-the-head *great*. The fault isn't really Parker's' he came close, and his was a nigh-impossible task. After all, who can be as great as Raymond Chandler?

P.S. Poodle Springs was a more accurate tribute, if a less actionful read.