As a consequence, and despite his growing critical recognition as a 'serious' writer, Chandler would wrestle all his life with the nostalgia for the literary scenes and styles that he had lost by becoming an author of hard-boiled fiction. It involved a series of difficult choices, each entailing a corresponding sacrifice: writing crime fiction (whereas he had written poetry and literary criticism before WWI), for the popular pulp magazine market (instead of the more respectable and better-paying 'slicks'), in a tough, classless American vernacular (instead of the Georgian manner which he had affected in his prewar London poems). His conversion to hard-boiled writing, in 1933, was an unlikely move for a man of his background and experience. 1 'There is pathos, too, in the idea that a man who can write like a fallen angel should be a mere pr (.)Ģ Chandler, who was born in Chicago in 1889 of an American father and Irish Quaker mother, spent his childhood in England and his youth in Paris and London, where he had a short-lived career as an aspiring journalist and poet, before settling in Los Angeles in 1912.Thus, Chandler’s narratives conjure up a counter-metaphysics of absence: what they ultimately reveal is not the redeeming manifestation of a timeless plenitude but the gaping black hole of melancholy. As reappearance or recovery is usually synonymous, in Chandler’s world, with a more insidious and more final disappearance, this logic is anything but compensatory: on the contrary, it articulates an Orpheus-like tale of compounded loss, an ongoing retreat of essences, whereby valued objects not only disappear from view but also recede into ontological insignificance. A similar process takes place within individual narratives, where it is articulated by the logic of disappearance and recovery on which their plots often rely. Indeed, the expansion of Chandler’s narrative world, in the twenty-five years separating his first story for the pulp magazine Black Mask (1933) from his last completed novel, Playback (1958), seems to have been accompanied by a progressive laying bare of the void at its core, as experienced and conveyed by the lonely, literate detective who narrates most of his stories and all of his seven novels.

1 If the epiphany, as a spiritual presence whose manifestation compensates for the nightmares of history, is one of the salient figures of high modernist literature, the works of Raymond Chandler-which one can regard as an instance of late, low-key counter-modernism growing out of the culturally disenfranchised pulp magazines-are characterized, on the contrary, by the sense of a spiritual absence, of an intense meaninglessness and 'not-thereness'.

The long goodbye by raymond chandler