I thought this was a fun read, not least because Chandler comes across not as a groundbreaker, but as a parody of himself. Especially at first before the plot (such as it was) got underway, when I thought he was working the similes and metaphors too hard. Just the same, the language was a joy to read.
I loved the staccato dialogue, the sense of place and time and the pervasiveness of evil. I thought his depiction of women was terrible. Not a one was believable; they were a bunch of vamps prone to screaming or giggling at inopportune times and behaving in an entirely incomprehensible manner (especially Silver-Wig) when necessary to get Marlowe out of a jam. That bothered me more than the homophobia or racism, which were organic in that context. Even their dialogue was frequently was absurd. One favorite, and from Vivian, supposedly the brightest of the bunch:
Quote:
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My God, you big dark handsome brute! I ought to throw a Buick at you."
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