The seventh part in a series of eleven book reviews.
From the 1930s to the 1950s Raymond Chandler penned a stylish collection of short stories and novels within the crime fiction genre.
I’m rereading his work and writing reviews. More details about the who, what and why are explained here in part one.
Review Number: 12 (7 in Chandler series)
Review Date: 10 January 2016
Title: The High Window
Author: Raymond Chandler
Country: United States
Publication Date: 1942
Genre: Crime Fiction
“I don’t amuse easy,” he said.
“Just like Queen Victoria,” I said.
“I don’t get it.”
“I don’t expect miracles.”
Our memories often play tricks on us. And that’s no exception with Raymond Chandler’s third novel The High Window.
I’d remembered it as being a good, solid novel. But that was a disservice to its smooth and easy charm. It doesn’t quite reach the classic status of his first two novels – The Big Sleep and Farewell, My Lovely; however, this story on another reread proves to be very good and a compact piece of careful, cultured writing.
The opening page has the wit and cynicism that Chandler deploys throughout:
All I knew about the people was that they were a Mrs Elizabeth Bright Murdock and family and that she wanted to hire a nice clean private detective who wouldn’t drop cigar ashes on the floor and never carried more than one gun. And I knew she was the widow of an old coot with whiskers named Jasper Murdock who had made a lot of money helping out the community, and got his photograph in the Pasadena paper every year on his anniversary, with the years of his birth and death underneath, and the legend: His Life Was His Service.
We soon find out the private detective, Philip Marlowe, is asked to find a missing and valuable coin ‘The Brasher Doubloon’. Looking for a coin won’t set the world on fire in terms of plot development. But that’s no problem, as Chandler has the skill of a great storyteller.
There’s tension between Mrs Murdock and Marlowe. He’s no pushover and just because he’s being paid to do a service, doesn’t mean he can’t talk back and point out the facts.
There’s also conflict within the Murdock family and the story soon hints at dark secrets in the past.
Marlowe doesn’t like any of the Murdocks, but I think we’ve all worked for people we despise at some point in our lives.
This may be irrelevant, but the novel was published in 1942, in the midst of the massive violence of World War Two. There’s no reason why Chandler should mention the war, and he doesn’t. But this omission contributes to the story’s air of self-containment and near claustrophobia. There is a small cast of characters – most of whom are nasty, weak, bullying and insecure. The outside world is of no importance. It’s L.A. all the way.
Chandler was also very good at describing places – homes, buildings, furniture or roads. He wasn’t afraid to slow the pace down and bring Los Angeles to life (or death). The speed isn’t relentless. He was adept at perfect timing:
Stillwood Crescent Drive curved leisurely north from Sunset Boulevard, well beyond the Bel-Air Country Club golf course. The road was lined with walled and fenced estates. Some had high walls, some had low walls, some had ornamental iron fences, some were a bit old fashioned and got along with tall hedges. The street had no sidewalk. Nobody walked in that neighborhood, not even the mailman.
There were two movies based on the book: Time to Kill (1942) and The Brasher Doubloon (1947).
Both are unremarkable. They’ve been forgotten in the huge, unforgiving domain of cinema. Perhaps one day they’ll be screened again. But probably on a second-rate TV channel in a mid-week lunchtime spot to a miserly amount of people.
In a sense, Chandler’s third novel also suffered the same fate of gone and forgotten. That’s a shame, because his intelligent and elegant The High Window offers a peek into a shady world of manipulation and memory.
We looked at each other with the clear innocent eyes of a couple of used car salesmen.
