It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being.

I just finished my third Raymond Chandler book, Farewell, My Lovely. Of his three books that I have read it was the weakest, but that is not to say it was by any means mediocre literature. Marlowe's characterization in Farewell does not match the inisghts of The Big Sleep, and the story was simply not as good as that of The Long Goodbye, which I consider to be his best work.

Of all modern American authors, Chandler is perhaps the most criminally underrated and unknown. Though I hope that somewhere, in some school, his work is taught, I know of no one who has studied him or even heard his mention in class. Whether there is some sort of stigma attached to hardboiled detective literature such as Chandler's or Hammet's I do not know, but I encourage anyone who wants to read genuine American literature to pick up The Long Goodbye and Red Harvest and enjoy their unique narration and mysteries.