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mehitabels's review against another edition
3.0
This was quite enjoyable, and definitely atmospheric. I love the hardass private investigator, with a history and secrets that tease and make me want to read more books to figure out the story. I can only roll my eyes at the inherent weakness in these men, their inability to NOT sleep with the cold beauty who runs the game they are drawn into.
I think this might be a perfect summer read, with tall iced drinks, overbright sun shaded by sunglasses, and preferably pool-side service.
I think this might be a perfect summer read, with tall iced drinks, overbright sun shaded by sunglasses, and preferably pool-side service.
dreadpiratejenny's review against another edition
4.0
A LibraryThing early reviewer win.
John Banville writing as Benjamin Black writing as Raymond Chandler. Got it?
It's been a good twenty-five years since I read Chandler, but to my recollection, Black pretty much nailed it. And if you have only seen movies based on Chandler, well it's easy enough to hear the lines coming out of Bogie's mouth.
So you've got this guy, Nico Peterson, who's dead. Only maybe not really. Marlowe gets hired because Nico's girlfriend, Claire Cavendish, saw him in San Francisco. After he died. Claire is heir to a major perfume empire and moves in the type of high class circles that make Marlowe uncomfortable but that he seems to find himself tangled up with. Add his cop buddies/nemeses, a mob boss, and a club for the movers and shakers and it really feels like what I recall vintage Marlowe to be.
John Banville writing as Benjamin Black writing as Raymond Chandler. Got it?
It's been a good twenty-five years since I read Chandler, but to my recollection, Black pretty much nailed it. And if you have only seen movies based on Chandler, well it's easy enough to hear the lines coming out of Bogie's mouth.
So you've got this guy, Nico Peterson, who's dead. Only maybe not really. Marlowe gets hired because Nico's girlfriend, Claire Cavendish, saw him in San Francisco. After he died. Claire is heir to a major perfume empire and moves in the type of high class circles that make Marlowe uncomfortable but that he seems to find himself tangled up with. Add his cop buddies/nemeses, a mob boss, and a club for the movers and shakers and it really feels like what I recall vintage Marlowe to be.
ckjaer88's review against another edition
3.0
I had such high hoped-for this, but somehow it ended up being quite boring.
lizwisniewski's review against another edition
3.0
Some of the gaffs bothered me and I wondered why an editor did not pick up on them (would anyone at the time, especially Philipp Marlowe, express any concern about cigarettes and cancer?) But then when I just let these go I found myself enjoying reading Banville writing as Raymond Chandler.
constantreader471's review against another edition
4.0
4 stars for a well done hard boiled Private Eye story set in 1950s California. The author is actually John Banville, Irish author and Man Booker prize winner. However he has written an excellent Phillip Marlowe story with Raymond Chandler's memorable PI. He has the style, cadence and wording of Chandler down pat.
This book has Marlowe looking for Nico Peterson, at the request of Clare Cavendish . Although she is married to another man, she tells Marlowe that Nico was her lover. She says that he has disappeared.
Marlowe starts to investigate and finds himself dealing with some murderous thugs.
I liked the opening sentence: " It was one of those Tuesday afternoons in summer when you wonder if the earth has stopped revolving"
This was a library book. I read it in 1 day.
This book has Marlowe looking for Nico Peterson, at the request of Clare Cavendish . Although she is married to another man, she tells Marlowe that Nico was her lover. She says that he has disappeared.
Marlowe starts to investigate and finds himself dealing with some murderous thugs.
I liked the opening sentence: " It was one of those Tuesday afternoons in summer when you wonder if the earth has stopped revolving"
This was a library book. I read it in 1 day.
puzzled_pagan's review against another edition
3.0
It's a good Marlowe knock - off, but you can never quite shake the feeling that it's not Chandler. The ingredients are right, but there's just something off.
joeleibovich's review against another edition
3.0
A fun enough homage to Chandler and Marlowe. The ending felt a tad rushed and a little out of left field.
bernardino's review against another edition
5.0
Mi crónica negra, musical y médica de La rubia de ojos negros
http://calvincliffordbaxter.wordpress.com/2014/03/27/la-rubia-de-ojos-negros-philip-marlowe/
http://calvincliffordbaxter.wordpress.com/2014/03/27/la-rubia-de-ojos-negros-philip-marlowe/
batbones's review against another edition
3.0
Capturing the temper of Raymond Chandler (and his famous detective Philip Marlowe) is one of the hardest things to do: his style is beautifully weary, wonderfully distinct and yet it maintains an elusive quality that makes one wonder where and how to begin in order to be him. I tried very hard to make myself like this (out of affection for Marlowe) but in the end I liked it somewhat.
Benjamin Black does a veritable impersonation. The first lines caught me hook, line and sinker: 'It was one of those Tuesday afternoons in summer when you wonder if the earth has stopped revolving. The telephone on my desk had the air of something that knows it's being watched.' Black also does Chandler credit by using familiar expressions ('shamus', etc), and sculpts those time-wasting pauses in which the dusty, bad world of Marlowe turns into wistful poetry. These moments and more are perfectly balanced and the reader can almost believe that this is Marlowe come to life again.
Writing Marlowe/Chandler, comes with a certain reputation and high expectations, and the reader cannot help unconsciously weighing every line against every line Chandler ever wrote, and the spirit of the thing isn't channelled as well in other places. The story is at times too self-conscious, too eager to describe and explain, which gives the impression that the text is trying too hard (or not trying at all), which implicitly suggests a failure to meet that which it aspires to. These deviations catch like a sweater on a wire fence and the illusion threatens to unravel. There are times where the story pauses to give a summary of certain events that have occurred in older stories in order to bring readers to the same page, which spoils the story's rhythm. Chandler may have hinted at sex and sensuality, but never did he go into such detail; these are better left in the darkness with the other things of darkness. I cannot remember ever a time Marlowe said 'please' or 'thanks' that did not come with a tinge of irony, or with such affection/sincerity.
I prefer the rough, nostalgic Marlowe, the one that explained himself and did not, who sprung surprises on the reader. There was very little trash-talking, which was a shame.
The reader's impressions come down to two things: 'this is good because Chandler would have done this', and 'this is bad because Chandler would never have done this'.
Plotwise, it was a decent mystery, well-paced, exciting, able to stand on its own. What I liked less was the recurrence of past characters. (Who they are, I will not mention since it will spoil things.) I expected a fresh Marlowe mystery, a foggy tribute to Chandler's oeuvre while venturing to new and exciting places, and was quite disappointed to be revisiting old dirt roads. It was as if Black was running out of ideas and had to borrow from Chandler's old plotlines in order to come up with something relevant. A revisitation once in a while would be welcome, but in the end the story relied so heavily upon old names that it felt less of a new story than the continuation of an old unfinished one.
Benjamin Black does a veritable impersonation. The first lines caught me hook, line and sinker: 'It was one of those Tuesday afternoons in summer when you wonder if the earth has stopped revolving. The telephone on my desk had the air of something that knows it's being watched.' Black also does Chandler credit by using familiar expressions ('shamus', etc), and sculpts those time-wasting pauses in which the dusty, bad world of Marlowe turns into wistful poetry. These moments and more are perfectly balanced and the reader can almost believe that this is Marlowe come to life again.
Writing Marlowe/Chandler, comes with a certain reputation and high expectations, and the reader cannot help unconsciously weighing every line against every line Chandler ever wrote, and the spirit of the thing isn't channelled as well in other places. The story is at times too self-conscious, too eager to describe and explain, which gives the impression that the text is trying too hard (or not trying at all), which implicitly suggests a failure to meet that which it aspires to. These deviations catch like a sweater on a wire fence and the illusion threatens to unravel. There are times where the story pauses to give a summary of certain events that have occurred in older stories in order to bring readers to the same page, which spoils the story's rhythm. Chandler may have hinted at sex and sensuality, but never did he go into such detail; these are better left in the darkness with the other things of darkness. I cannot remember ever a time Marlowe said 'please' or 'thanks' that did not come with a tinge of irony, or with such affection/sincerity.
I prefer the rough, nostalgic Marlowe, the one that explained himself and did not, who sprung surprises on the reader. There was very little trash-talking, which was a shame.
The reader's impressions come down to two things: 'this is good because Chandler would have done this', and 'this is bad because Chandler would never have done this'.
Plotwise, it was a decent mystery, well-paced, exciting, able to stand on its own. What I liked less was the recurrence of past characters. (Who they are, I will not mention since it will spoil things.) I expected a fresh Marlowe mystery, a foggy tribute to Chandler's oeuvre while venturing to new and exciting places, and was quite disappointed to be revisiting old dirt roads. It was as if Black was running out of ideas and had to borrow from Chandler's old plotlines in order to come up with something relevant. A revisitation once in a while would be welcome, but in the end the story relied so heavily upon old names that it felt less of a new story than the continuation of an old unfinished one.