The Little Sister : Philip Marlowe

  • by Raymond Chandler
  • Narrated by Ray Porter
  • Series: Philip Marlowe
  • 7 hrs and 52 mins
  • Unabridged Audiobook

Publisher's Summary

Her name is Orfamay Quest and she's come all the way from Manhattan, Kansas, to find her missing brother Orrin. Or leastways that's what she tells PI Philip Marlowe, offering him a measly 20 bucks for the privilege.
But Marlowe's feeling charitable - though it's not long before he wishes he wasn't so sweet. You see, Orrin's trail leads Marlowe to luscious movie starlets, uppity gangsters, suspicious cops, and corpses with ice picks jammed in their necks. When trouble comes calling, sometimes it's best to pretend to be out...
Raymond Chandler was born in Chicago in 1888 and moved to England with his family when he was 12. He attended Dulwich College, Alma Mater to some of the 20h century's most renowned writers. Returning to America in 1912, he settled in California, worked in a number of jobs, and later married.
It was during the Depression era that he seriously turned his hand to writing and his first published story appeared in the pulp magazine "Black Mask" in 1933, followed six years later by his first novel. The Big Sleep introduced the world to Philip Marlowe, the often imitated but never-bettered hard-boiled private investigator. It is in Marlowe's long shadow that every fictional detective must stand - and under the influence of Raymond Chandler's addictive prose that every crime author must write.


What the Critics Say

"Anything Chandler writes about grips the mind from the first sentence" (Daily Telegraph)
"One of the greatest crime writers, who set standards others still try to attain" (Sunday Times)
"Chandler is an original stylist, creator of a character as immortal as Sherlock Holmes" (Anthony Burgess)


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Customer Reviews

Most Helpful

The Little Simile

This novel used similes that were long and round and thin, like a rattailed file that has been ground smooth.

This novel is a sort of sad whisper, like a mortitian asking for a down payment.
This novel had a low lingering voice with a sort of moist caress in it like a damp bath towl.
This novel felt like a nice leg.
This novel was brought up straight, like the wicked foreman of the Lazy Q.
This novel sounded like somebody putting aways saucepans where I was.
This novel flashed like lightening.
This novel burned like dry ice.
This novel bounced me downstairs like a basketball.
This novel made my brain feel like a bucket of wet sand.
This novel spoke to me like a six-hundred dollar funeral.
This novel made a sort of high keening noise, like a couple of pansies fighting for a piece of silk.
This novel grew on me like scum on a water tank.
This novel burned like a hot iron.
This novel gave me the creeps. Like petting snakes.
This novel felt like four years on a road gang.
This novel had a jaw like a park bench.
This novel had eyes cloudy and gret like freezing water.
This novel was sad, like a fallen cake.
This novel's similies poured like water through the floodgagtes of a dam.
This novel fell on silence like a tired head on a swansdown pillow.
This novel made me laugh like a child trying to be supercilious at a playroom tea party.
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- Darwin8u "I write for myself, for my own pleasure. And I want to be left alone to do it. - Salinger ^(;,;)^"

I feel like a traitor...

I couldn't do it. Oh, I tried. I read rave reviews by my favorite reviewers. I grew up on B&W movie versions of these noir novels with the likes of Humphrey Bogart and Robert Mitchum playing damaged, cynical, cigarette smoking, wise-ass detectives, with females being relegated to playing sexy, duplicitous dames--even as late as Polanski's Chinatown tribute--and watched them more than once or twice. I love damaged, cynical, wise-ass detectives...

Male OR female...and therein lies the rub, I think.

Somehow, reading these for the first time at this time in my life, they just didn't work. Maybe it's my age, maybe it's too many years lately, of seeing so much of the progress women have made, get undermined by the newest iteration of the politics of partisanship and social wedge issues. Instead of letting myself get joyfully sucked into the book as I once did with the same genre of movies, I was irritated and impatient with the sexist handling of the women, the callous shallowness of the relationships, and the stereotyping of ethnic minorities.

And it's not just Raymond Chandler. Since I've been trying to read older books that I missed when growing up, I gave a try to a half dozen or so John D. MacDonald novels and, while they are much lighter fare, I had to give them up for the same reason--they drove me crazy with the way women are presented, and handled.

Maybe I'm just no fun anymore, take things too seriously, but with some exceptions, I'm not finding my time-traveling experiment with period detective novels very fulfilling. However I'm not quite done yet. I still have to check out Jim Thompson...who knows, right?
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- Pamela

Book Details

  • Release Date: 12-09-2014
  • Publisher: Audible Studios