This is my second foray into hard-boiled literature, the first being The Maltese Falcon. I enjoyed it, but I don't think it will become a preferred genre. My motive for reading this was that I got the movie in a Humphrey Bogart four pack, but wanted to read the book first. I also enjoy reading trend setting material, and this apparently contributed to the genre though Falcon came out 10 years before, and this is the first book with Philip Marlowe who is a well known private dick. Also Dorothy Zbornak mentioned in a great episode of The Golden Girls that she had read every word Raymond Chandler had ever written, and that cinched the deal. Sometimes it doesn't take much to get to try something. 
 The action was hard to follow sometimes, but I think that was less Chandler's fault and more the fact that I seem to be going senile at the ripe old age of 38, but since I was already 70 years old when I showed up on this mortal plane, I'm really 108 years old. There are dangers to being born old, so make sure it doesn't happen to you. To exemplify the point of this paragraph (just in case my meandering hasn't already provided ample evidence of my onset senility), I sometimes wondered what induced Marlowe to go from point A to B. How did he know to check out B? I figured there was something in the text I missed. It seems like a lot of things are mentioned just once and then followed up on several pages later, so you need to pay attention to be able to follow the action. This isn't always my strong point as of late, but I accept that about myself and am able to move on accordingly. It didn't detract from my enjoyment of the story itself. It clipped right along and was a load of fun to read. 
 I consider Philip Marlowe to be Sam Spade lite. They had a lot of similar characteristics, but they weren't as vibrant in Marlowe. He would knock people around if he had to, but Spade would jump them in a heartbeat. He would flirt with women in a tough man kind of way, but Spade was a straight up dog. I had a lot more respect for Marlowe and cared more what happened to him, but Spade was definitely more interesting. This isn't to say Marlowe was dull, and I suppose a comparison isn't all that fair, but that's how I see it. 
 As for the writing, it was short and choppy. That's not my usual fare, but it works well with this kind of book. Perfectly, in fact. I kept hearing Leslie Nielsen from The Naked Gun in the narration, but luckily Marlowe didn't look or act anything like him in my mind's eye. That would've been too silly. 
 A brief aside: 
 I'm afraid it's time for photobucket and me to part company. Their service has been going downhill for years, and their customer service is the pits. Now they'll offer third party hosting (meaning I can use their service to put pictures in my goodreads reviews), a hitherto free service for a mere $40 a month. Or you can pay annually and get two months free which drops the total to $400 a year... You must be up out your damn mind. The search commences for another site that can meet my needs... (2 days later: Success!) 
 Back to the review: 
 Cue Ricardo Montalban in three, two, one... 
 "Inspector Drebin, Welcome." 
 "The feeling is mutual." 
 "... Nice to meet you too. Cuban?" 
 "Err, no. Dutch-Irish. My father was from Wales." 
 There were also several good lines in the book, and I've attached a few to this review. Some of them aren't very politically correct, but such things titillate me, be it right or be it wrong. Actually they're not PC at all, and praise be to God from whom all blessings flow for that. I partly find them amusing because I can't believe what I'm seeing since times have changed so much, They're also still funny in general, but you don't have to laugh at them the way I do. There are plenty of other reviews on here that take Chandler to task for his misogyny and gay bashing, so I'll leave that part alone. 
 I also consider the writing to be Dashiell Hammett lite. Hammett's slang often left me guessing what in the hell he was talking about. There was plenty of slang in here, but it wasn't so thick that I couldn't keep up. It's been a while since I've read The Maltese Falcon, but I think the writing in this was better. At least a frenemy of mine on here says so, and I'm going to take his word for it. There was one thing that grated on me constantly, though: the spelling of "okay." Chandler likes "okey." Perhaps that was how it was done back in 1939, but I don't think so. At least I can't find anything on the internet to indicate such, so I'm not sure why an editor didn't change it. 
 This is recommended to anyone who likes mysteries and crime. There were several twists along the way, and I enjoyed the ride.