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A review by oxnard_montalvo
The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
Marlowe entered the long rectangular all white room. He took three steps to the right and put his hat on the davenport. There was a dame on the davenport next to the hat. She was reading a book. Her face and eyebrows made angles and shapes. She frowned like she'd just eaten a bad sea food lunch. Marlowe reached into his coat and instead of his gat, which he knew how to use, he took out a long Harvard cigar. He lit it and looked at the dame through the smoke. The smoke made the air blue and the dame's blue eyes bluer.
"You don't like it?" he said, smoking his cigar. The dame had a pair of legs that made looking at them easy.
"Not really, no." She waved her hand in front of her face, the face that was all angles and shapes, like she was wafting away a bad smell. Which maybe she was given the cigar smoke. "Can't say I like Chandler's writing style all that much. It's not my bag."
"Funny," Marlowe said. "I had you pegged as a dame with taste."
"And I thought this..." she lifted the book up "...was going to have a little more... pizazz."
"Pizazz, eh? Don't get fresh with me; I've socked dames in the kisser for staler comments."
The dame rolled her baby blues but Marlowe didn't see. The book was shut and he'd evaporated from the all white long rectangular room quicker than a fart on a spring brezze.
"You don't like it?" he said, smoking his cigar. The dame had a pair of legs that made looking at them easy.
"Not really, no." She waved her hand in front of her face, the face that was all angles and shapes, like she was wafting away a bad smell. Which maybe she was given the cigar smoke. "Can't say I like Chandler's writing style all that much. It's not my bag."
"Funny," Marlowe said. "I had you pegged as a dame with taste."
"And I thought this..." she lifted the book up "...was going to have a little more... pizazz."
"Pizazz, eh? Don't get fresh with me; I've socked dames in the kisser for staler comments."
The dame rolled her baby blues but Marlowe didn't see. The book was shut and he'd evaporated from the all white long rectangular room quicker than a fart on a spring brezze.