Dorothy Malone and The Big Sleep

I learned something quite sad yesterday: Dorothy Malone passed away. I only knew her from a single scene in The Big Sleep, where she played the geeky yet sexy bookshop clerk who flirts with private eye Philip Marlowe. It is an extended scene from the novel, yet it remains quite short, but very memorable. I don't want to sound nostalgic, but you don't make seduction scenes like this anymore, where no innuendo is lost, nothing is gratuitous, every word, look, movement is so effective. So I decided to share it on this blog as an homage to the actress.

Reading The Big Sleep again

"It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display a handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark blue socks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed detective ought to be. I was calling on four millions dollars."

Philip Marlowe, describing himself and his environment in The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler.

The books we re-read are more important than the ones we read. This is the case for me right now, as I had been wanting to revisit this crime fiction classic for ages, since I had read it the first time in college/cégep in our class of American literature. Now I am reading it solely out of pleasure, and in the original language. The start of the novel is still pure hardboiled crime fiction bliss and maybe the best the genre ever gave. There were private eyes before, but none truly defined the genre like Marlowe did. I might blog about the novel more in the weeks to come, right now I just wanted to share its first few lines, because they are that good. I also wanted to encourage my readers to discover or rediscover The Big Sleep.

The death of a femme fatale

You might think Vraie Fiction is turning into an obituary blog since the 12th of August. But I learned yesterday that the legendary Lauren Bacall died. She was 89. I know at this age, it is not a tragedy, but all the same, I have to confess it saddened me more than the suicide of Robin Williams. She was the kind of sophisticated beauty that we don't see very often. Strangely enough, I watched The Big Sleep again this weekend, in which she played femme fatale Vivien Rutledge so brilliantly. Ironic, that a femme fatale should live to 89. This is the first thing that came to my mind.

The Big Sleep (just because)

I was just thinking about it: I am in the mood to watch some old black and white crime movies, some good old fashioned stuff full of atmosphere. I thought about watching The Big Sleep and I am very tempted to buy it. I read The Big Sleep in cégep, in its French translation (by Boris Vian), for a course in American literature. I never read it again, even though I read now most of the novels of Raymond Chandler (well, the majority of them). The movie, however, I watched a few times, the first time in cégep for the same course of American literature. It's one I never get bored of. The plot is a bit muddled up at times, it has differences from the novel that don't quite work, but there is such atmosphere! Oh and there is Humphrey Bogart. He does not quite look like Philip Marlowe, he is a bit too old for one, but he's got this attitude. And he's Bogart. I recently discovered the trailer on YouTube. I watched it over and over again today. I uploaded it here, because it has plenty of atmosphere too.

An orchid in the snow

"Sternwood: I seem to exist largely on heat, like a newborn spider. The orchids are an excuse for the heat. Do you like orchids? 
Marlowe: Not particularly. 
Sternwood: Nasty things! Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption."

I know I already quoted the above here, but I had to use it again for this post. I was looking for a new picture for this month and the new year, something that would look like winter yet not too much like Christmas. So I found this one dad sent me, an orchid in the conservatory, where you cans ee the snow in the background. I thought it was an interesting contrast. And at the moment I am reading Farewell, My Lovely. Not the same novel, but it still from the same author and it features Philip Marlowe. So to kick start my year as a reader I am reading a crime fiction classic and to kick start this year as a blogger (yesterday's post was barely more than an announcement, but I will come back to it), I have this interesting picture. Please feel free to give me your impressions about it.

Orchids, corruption and literature

My father grows orchids and I took this picture last time we visited my parents. I have been wanting to put it here for a while to accompany this quote I have been wanting to put on this blog. It is from The Big Sleep. I read the original classic of Raymond Chandler fifteen years ago in cégep in its French translation. I want to read it again in its original language. I do not remember exactly what was written in the novel, but in the movie the quote goes like this:

"Sternwood: I seem to exist largely on heat, like a newborn spider. The orchids are an excuse for the heat. Do you like orchids? 
Marlowe: Not particularly. 
Sternwood: Nasty things! Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption."

Evidence that crime fiction can also be genuine literature. Orchids can be quite creepy plants if you think about it: their flowers have something ophidian or arachnoid. I never thought they smelt much of anything, but their beauty has indeed something nasty.