Ian Brown
Raymond Chandler enthusiast
When I first heard that there was going to be a new Philip Marlowe novel I was beyond excited. I believe I read the news online some time last year and thought, “OMG I love Raymond Chandler! I hope they better not muck this up!” Then I probably watched a video of a dog skateboarding and immediately obliterated this tidbit of news from my mind.
Now jump to mid February 2014 and I am reading an article on “the most anticipated novels of 2014”. I notice part way down the list “The Black Eyed Blonde: A Philip Marlowe Novel” and my excitement is sparked into life for a second time. On this occasion however I decided to do more research into it in hopes to retain some memory of it.
I get as far as “Written by Benjamin Black”. I think, now here is a name that is too good to be real. Benjamin Black. It sounds like a superhero’s secret identity. The alliteration just rolls off the tongue a little too smoothly. Well, it turns out that I'm right. Benjamin Black is the crime fiction alias of John Banville, winner of the 2005 Man Booker Prize for his novel “The Sea”. An award winning novelist who also writes crime on the side? Hot damn, this book might just actually be ok. And with that, for the second time, I closed the tab on my browser and completely forgot about the book’s existence.
So, a month later when I am sorting through a box of newly arrived stock one day at work and pull out a copy of “The Black Eyed Blonde”, my eyes grow wide. At this point I believe that my train of thought is something along the lines of “Oh man oh man oh man oh man”.
With the physical copy finally in my hands I flip it over and read the back.
Philip Marlowe. Check!!
Beautiful woman walks into his office. Check!
Needs him to find a missing lover …Check.
Marlowe gets thrown into a world of a powerful family where nobody is quite who they seem. Check…
By this point in my 30 second skim of the back I'm starting to feel as though I've read this one before. On many occasions in fact. And I'm questioning why I've ever loved Raymond Chandler when his plots seem so obviously derivative. All spelled out so clearly like this blurb. Everything starts to go black. I feel like a fool. Just like Marlowe when everything goes belly up and he’s stuck holding the short straw.
Just like Marlowe I keep going even though I probably shouldn't.
I get the book and boy am I happy I did.
Within pages I fall right back into the beautiful prose that made me weak in the knees all those years ago when I found my first copy of Long Kiss Goodbye in a used book store. I feel as though Marlowe never left. It's still the 1950's and he's kicking around the dry, dirty streets of LA. Every word is music. I can’t help but read the whole thing in a lyrical Bogart-ian drawl. With each passing page there are more and more little nods to Marlowe's universe that is so well developed in the original novels.
I fly through the book in a few days. Death, drugs, drinks, and dames. I devour it all. When I arrive at work all I can do is emphatically thrust the book into my co workers hands. “My god!” I say, “Just… read this.” Too excited for words. They take the it from my hands and nod politely. Who knows what strange and deviant things the are concocting in their heads about me. I'm just happy knowing that soon they too will know what I know.
Marlowe is back.
$38
