Reviews

The High Window, by Raymond Chandler

perlaalva3's review against another edition

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adventurous challenging dark mysterious tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? No
  • Loveable characters? No
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.75

mraymer9's review against another edition

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3.0

I've never been particularly drawn to detective fiction, but it's not difficult to figure out why Raymond Chandler is still considered one of the best in the genre, even if his work has become somewhat dated. I thoroughly enjoy his writing style, which reads a bit like Hemingway if he had decided to write about shady crime cases instead of about fishing, bull-fighting, and war. But the simple structure embellished with the occasional sharply conceived metaphor is there in Chandler's work, as is the general concern with the fuckedupness of human civilization. Marlowe is a strong protagonist, a potent mixture of austere manliness and keen observation that partially conceals but fails to subvert a deeply ingrained desire to preserve whatever goodness manages to claw its way out of the shithole that was 1930s LA. Behind his almost inhumanly calm facade, Marlowe contains a spark of indignant righteousness that Chandler channels brilliantly, capturing clearly an important element of the American psyche: our sneaking suspicion of established powers and a general distrust of everything but our own instincts. And while I'm not convinced that Marlowe's worldview is either desirable or accurate, it certainly provides an excellent foundation for compelling crime fiction.

Similar to reading Sherlock Holmes stories, this book reminds me that I would make an absolutely lousy detective. Marlowe's eye for detail is impressive and thorough, and an unobservant reader like myself can find a lot of enjoyment in the simple fact that nothing escapes his notice. However, it also gets tiresome as Marlowe repeatedly notices useful clues in ways that feel increasingly contrived, if not entirely unrealistic. My gradual disenchantment with this process revealed to me the general reason why detective fiction isn't really my bag, which is the author's unspoken agreement with the reader that, by story's end, everything will be accounted for and neatly spelled out. This knowledge excuses someone like me, who doesn't enjoy the solving of crimes outright, from following carefully enough to put the pieces together on my own, because I know I can count on Chandler to paint the whole picture for me in the denouement. And while this assurance does provide a modicum of satisfaction, it also robs the narrative of its underlying sense of mystery, and I find myself rushing through the details in search of the inevitable list of final explanations. This isn't a critique of Chandler, who seems a master of his craft, but rather an acknowledgement of why I'm not the ideal reader of his kind of adventure. Beyond the anachronistic gender stereotypes and hackneyed psychological explanations that are a product of his time, Chandler does manage to say something interesting and valuable about the power of criminal activity to enthrall, repel, and recast our notions of morality and our ideas about what kind of world we will find when we go through society's dirty laundry.

kate_bunton's review against another edition

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dark funny mysterious fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? No

4.0

cnorbury's review against another edition

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5.0

Chandler does it again--writes a brilliant mystery and has Marlowe solve it almost as effortlessly as Sherlock Holmes seemed to solve the mysteries Sir Arthur Conan Doyle threw at him.

This time the case is to find out who stole a rare coin owned by a bitchy old widow who suspects her ex-torch-singer daughter-in-law. Unfortunately, Marlowe keeps stumbling across dead bodies of people related to the case, which arouses the attention of the local cops. Marlowe's attention to detail sets him apart from average P.I.s because the clues are there for the reader to solve the mystery themselves if they're motivated to do a bit of homework.

Once again, the dialogue is tight, the characters are three-dimensional, and Chandler's prose is first-rate. I understand he was also a poet of some note. That shines through in numerous elegant descriptions, spot-on metaphors, and lines full of dry wit and ironic humor.

Every mystery writer owes it to herself/himself to read Chandler with a studious eye. Taking notes of all the great lines you'd like to hijack for your own work is a good idea, too. :-)

adamz24's review against another edition

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4.0

Raymond Chandler's prose style is up there with the greats. It's still hugely influential, incredibly important. None of his books fail to impress on those grounds. It is, of course, real hard to try to write like Raymond Chandler writes and pull it off. There are probably as many woeful Chandler copycats out there as there are woeful Hemingway copycats.

The High Window isn't my favourite of the Marlowe books. That's mostly down to the plot, which is just okay, and doesn't really let Marlowe reach his full potential, or for that matter any interesting thematic threads.

But just read:

“The blond giggled and petted his face with her eyes.”

"He had a long nose that would be into things."

“From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from thirty feet away."

“A small tongue played roguishly along her lips.”

“Her eyes were as hard as the bricks in her front walk.”

And now for a masterpiece of descriptive prose:

“The lobby looked like a high-budget musical. A lot of light and glitter, a lot of scenery, a lot of clothes, a lot of sound, an all-star cast, and a plot with all the originality and drive of a split fingernail. Under the beautiful soft indirect lighting the walls seemed to go up forever and to be lost in soft lascivious stars that really twinkled. You could just manage to walk on the carpet without waders. At the back was a free-arched stairway with a chromium and white enamel gangway going up in wide shallow carpeted steps. At the entrance to the dining room a chubby captain of waiters stood negligently with a two-inch satin stripe on his pants and a bunch of gold-plated menus under his arm. He had the sort of face that can turn from a polite simper to cold-blooded fury almost without moving a muscle. The bar entrance was to the left. It was dusky and quiet and a bartender moved moth like against the faint glitter of piled glassware. A tall handsome blond in a dress that looked like seawater sifted over with gold dust came out of the Ladies' Room touching up her lips and turned toward the arch, humming. The sound of rumba music came through the archway and she nodded her gold head in time to it, smiling. A short fat man with a red face and glittering eyes waited for her with a white wrap over his arm. He dug his thick fingers into her bare arm and leered up at her. A check girl in peach-bloom Chinese pajamas came over to take my hat and disapprove of my clothes. She had eyes like strange sins. A cigarette girl came down the gangway. She wore an egret plume in her hair, enough clothes to hide behind a toothpick, one of her long beautiful naked legs was silver, and one was gold. She had the utterly disdainful expression of a dame who makes her dates by long distance. I went into the bar and sank into a leather bar seat packed with down. Glasses tinkled gently, lights glowed softly, there were quiet voices whispering of love, or ten per cent, or whatever they whisper about in a place like that. A tall fine-looking man in a gray suit cut by an angel suddenly stood up from a small table by the wall and walked over to the bar and started to curse one of the barmen. He cursed him in a loud clear voice for a long minute, calling him about nine names that are not usually mentioned by tall fine-looking men in well cut gray suits. Everybody stopped talking and looked at him quietly. His voice cut through the muted rumba music like a shovel through snow. The barman stood perfectly still, looking at the man. The barman had curly hair and a clear warm skin and wide-set careful eyes. He didn’t move or speak. The tall man stopped talking and stalked out of the bar. Everybody watched him out except the barman. The barman moved slowly along the bar to the end where I sat and stood looking away from me, with nothing in his face but pallor."

bundy23's review against another edition

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4.0

I’m really tempted to drop a star for how terribly every female character is written but I liked Marlowe enough in this one that it almost makes up for it.

awiuhot's review

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mysterious medium-paced

4.0

joemacare's review against another edition

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3.0

Chandler and Marlowe's "ideas" about women are arguably even less palatable here than they usually are, and the McGuffin (a missing rare coin) is pretty preposterous. Despite or maybe because of all that, this is another exemplary noir, with one of the most memorable closing scenes in the Marlowe canon, that tells you everything about why the booze-loving bachelor PI does what he does.

zacharydpugh's review against another edition

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mysterious fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot

3.0

hllreka's review against another edition

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mysterious medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? No

3.75

Timing membaca buku ini rasanya kurang pas—kalau saya masih jadi pembaca misteri pemula mungkin bakalan lebih terasa “feel” dari keseluruhan ceritanya. Dugaan saya, buku ini lebih cocok dibaca untuk teman2 yg mau memulai menyicipi bacaan misteri tp gak bikin pusing kepala—krn alur ceritanya enak banget buat diikutin dari awal—plotnya pun gak ribet dan tepat sasaran.