i never did mention how the raymond chandler "what's yr take on cassavetes"* fact-finding mission wound up, did i? i finished tom hiney's biography a month ago and decided that i do like chandler...and don't like hiney. my impression of chandler is that he was maladjusted and mostly well-intentioned rather than hateful; he spent most of his life performing chivalrous acts for and/or proposing to various women (his mother, then his invalid wife, cissy, then personal assistants and agents and anyone who'd stand still long enough, really). the rest of the time he was drinking: at one point in his later years, as a friend recalled, he had crate upon crate of rose's lime juice (for gimlets) delivered directly to his house in la jolla.** he was devoted to his cat, too, and my feelings about that kind of man are well-documented.
robert moss's brilliant review of hiney's work plucks apart nearly all of his hunks of questionable research; if you're a chandler nut or the sort who gets off on muscular fact-checking (cough), it's worth a read. to make a long complaint short, characters' quotes are repeatedly handled like direct observations from chandler, and that's more than a little shady - and hiney doesn't appear to have read the novels very carefully (he flubs all kinds of plot points in his summaries***). he did include chandler's notes for a cookbook, however -
It will have such headlines as:- and i appreciate that.
HOW TO BROIL A STEAK - DON'T
HOW TO MAKE COFFEE THAT DOESN'T TASTE LIKE COLORED WATER
DISHES THAT TAKE ALL DAY AND THE HELL WITH THEM
REALLY GOOD MASHED POTATOES ARE AS RARE AS VIRGINS, BUT ANY FOOL CAN MAKE THEM IF HE TRIES.
speaking of chandler quotes, another handful:
(from the high window, 1942)god he's good.
He lifted his hands off the desk and made a steeple of the fingers, like an old time family lawyer getting set for a little tangled grammar.
(from the lady in the lake, 1943)
I separated another dollar from my exhibit and it went into his pocket with a sound like caterpillars fighting.
The self-operating elevator was carpeted in red plush. It had an elderly perfume in it, like three widows drinking tea.
(from the little sister, 1949)
"Will you make love to me tonight?" she asked softly.
"That again is an open question. Probably not."
"You would not waste your time. I am not one of these synthetic blondes with a skin you could strike matches on. These ex-laundresses with large bony hands and sharp knees and unsuccessful breasts."
*"genius! misogynist! / messiah! alcoholic!"
**i would probably have to maintain a near-constant state of inebriation to live in la jolla as well, but that's neither here nor there.
***at one point he directly contradicted what i'd just read; i did a bit of checking around and realized he was summarizing a film version of one of the novels instead of the novel itself. yikes.
2 comments:
Which to start with, dear L?
you mean literally, yes? the big sleep, for sure. skipping around is fine after that, but save the long goodbye for a special occasion - it's the best.
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