[Link] The Moral Character of Philip Marlowe: Complexity and Nuance in the Ethical Life of Chandler’s Detective Hero

by Terry Hyland

The central character in Raymond Chandler’s seven acclaimed detective novels – the private eye, Philip Marlowe – is, according to his creator, a man of honour and a kind of hero and, as a man for our times, an archetype who may be compared to Sherlock Holmes, James Bond or the eponymous stranger in Clint Eastwood’s famous Western movies. Chandler’s novels – though derided by the author himself as pulp fiction and merely escape literature – are now considered to be classical paradigms of a certain kind of hard-boiled detective fiction and appear on English Literature reading lists in colleges and universities throughout the world. In this article, I will be analysing the novels in terms of the moral principles and practice of the central character of Philip Marlowe. In particular, the nuances of ethical conflicts and dilemmas will be explored as Marlowe struggles to navigate his way through the shadowy and morally corrupt world he inhabits, seeking to exact justice without compromising his deeply held core values. Moral education programmes now make extensive use of literary sources and – given the prominence of the type of fiction that Chandler helped to pioneer – I will conclude with examples of the ways in which ethical lessons may be drawn from examining the character of Marlowe.

1. Introduction

Describing the general characteristics of his central character, Marlowe, in The Simple Art of Murder, Chandler writes:

down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective in this kind of story must be such a man. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honour — by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world (p.7).

We first meet this man in the short story Killer in the Rain[2] a palimpsest for the subsequent first novel The Big Sleep[3]. Here we are introduced to a private eye (who previously worked in the assistant district attorney’s office) who is fearless, astute, honest, loyal and clear-sighted in his commitment to righting wrongs and acting with ethical determination in an essentially immoral and chaotic underworld.

Read the full article: https://www.qeios.com/read/H1QWFO

[Link] WHY CLASSIC CRIME FICTION WAS OBSESSED WITH FASHION

by Via Berkley

Early in my career as a novelist, I received a critical review of my work complaining that I described, in too much detail, the garments worn by my characters. It may have been fair comment. I was in my twenties at the time, a debut crime novelist. My writing instinct was correct, though, if perhaps not my delivery, and twelve books later, I’d like to explain why:

Furnishing the reader with details of the appearance of characters, and perhaps especially their clothes, makes good storytelling sense. More even than the shape of a face, or a glint in the eye, the cut, quality and state of a character’s garments, their footwear, the state of a suit and the quality of a piece of jewellery reveal important details about the history, social class, financial position, personality and in some cases intent of a character. As a mid-century vintage nerd, occasional dressmaker and former fashion model I am well placed on the details of garments, with my interest being particularly focussed on the time period I am currently writing about—post-WWII—so it is entirely appropriate that I have given my new 1946 PI heroine Billie Walker a keen eye for seams and collars, brooches and brogues. But before you disregard this attention to detail as the skewed interest of a female writer, as that early reviewer did, I’d like to point out that this descriptive technique has form with one Raymond Chandler, creator of one that most enduring and observant character, Phillip Marlowe—not a fashion victim but a hardboiled PI. Chandler’s novels are filled with detailed descriptions of bouncers in pink suspenders, authors in white flannel suits and violet scarves, and even speculation on the fashion choices of a man who furnished an office: “The fellow who decorated that room was not a man to let colors scare him. He probably wore a pimento shirt, mulberry slacks, zebra shoes, and vermilion drawers with his initials on them in a nice Mandarin orange.”

Just feast your eyes on this sartorially splendid scene from The Long Goodbye:

“She was slim and quite tall in a white linen tailormade with a black and white polka-dotted scarf around her throat. Her hair was the pale gold of a fairy princess. There was a small hat on it into which the pale gold hair nestled like a bird in its nest. Her eyes were cornflower blue, a rare color, and the lashes were long and almost too pale. She reached the table across the way and was pulling off a white gauntleted glove and the old waiter had the table pulled out in a way no waiter ever will pull a table out for me…”

Marlowe (and his creator) notice the clothes, the hairstyle, the gloves and what they signal about the person wearing them. This is no mere description, not simply the delightful painting of an aesthetic picture, but a type of cheat sheet for every character Marlowe encounters. It’s true that in hard-boiled we are accustomed to descriptions of hard men and femme fatales with faces like angels, but the clothing takes us a necessary step further.

Read the full article: https://crimereads.com/why-classic-crime-fiction-was-obsessed-with-fashion/

The Writer Will Take Your Questions Now #303 -- World Building in Action Stories

How important is world building to an adventure story?

World building means different things to different writers, I believe. To me, it means simply creating a believable setting in which a story can take place. In that sense, world building is paramount, crucial, and a story can only suffer in its absence.

However, applying world building to an adventure story must follow different rules from the ones established in turn of the century literature or epic fantasy, I think. In those kinds of stories, readers are often looking for a more verbose sense of writing style or a "grander" way to telling and/or showing the tale. But in adventure writing, readers don't want a lot of description of place and the symbolism of a particular color of curtains to get in the way of the more quickly moving action.

But, the little details you choose as a writer can and will make the setting more real, and should. If a setting feels generic, I know that I've failed as a writer. A reader almost needs to be able to smell the smoke from the Jazz club or feel the desolate rocky surfaces of the lost valley in order to really emote during reading.

Perhaps three of the best examples of setting made real through details are:

1. Philip Marlowe's Los Angeles. Sure, it's a real place already, but it feels more real when Chandler writes it.
2. Gotham City. I'm convinced that place is completely real. It HAS to be. 
3. Opal City from the pages of James Robinson's Starman series -- masterfully skilled world building in that one. Jack Knight wouldn't be Jack Knight if he lived any other place.