I’m told you are a widower and have two young daughters, both pretty, both wild.
Some books, you need to read.
The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler is one of those. It’s a complex detective noir story and a precursor to some of today’s most notable crime novels — Jack Reacher and John Milton(former assassin) both have some Philip Marlowe in their DNA, I bet my arse on it.
Marlowe is the kind of hard-boiled detective you want in your corner (unless you’re trying to hide something). The raincoat, the smoking, the sardonic humour and no-nonsense, get-to-the-bottom-of-it-no-matter-the-cost attitude; I don’t know if Marlowe was the first to pull this–now, typical — manner but he certainly owns it. (Side Note: I do believe he’s the original archetype of that role.)
This is one of those stories in which our protagonist gets involved in something bigger than what he signed up for. What should be a straightforward investigation into the disappearance of one man and the harassment of one of the daughters of Marlowe’s employer quickly becomes a whole lot more complex when a few bodies start stacking up with connections to a crime boss and General Sternwood’s other daughter.
I enjoyed this and consumed it in a miniature time span. It’s obviously a source of inspiration for many writers, not just those who’re working on thrillers, but on guys such as Jim Butcher. Harry Dresden shares a lot with Marlowe — both get themselves into trouble even when they recognize that the ‘smarter’ thing would be to, say, grab a glass of whiskey at the bar instead of sliding deeper in the muddy underside of LA, or ending up fighting for your life against a dark wizard who enjoys his pastime making pulpy juice out of people’s hearts.
The point is this: You want a noir thriller, something to get your blood boiling and throw you a few curveballs, you might want to pick this book up.
The Big Sleep will not disappoint.