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Product Description

This collection by crime fiction master Raymond Chandler features four long stories in which private eye Philip Marlowe is hired to protect a rich old guy from a gold digger, runs afoul of crooked politicos, gets a line on some stolen jewels with a reward attached, and stumbles across a murder victim who may have been an extortionist.

From Library Journal

Chandler is not only the best writer of hardboiled PI stories, he''s one of the 20th century''s top scribes, period. His full canon of novels and short stories is reprinted in trade paper featuring uniform covers in Black Lizard''s signature style. A handsome set for a reasonable price.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Review

"Raymond Chandler is a master." -- The New York Times

“[Chandler] wrote as if pain hurt and life mattered.” -- The New Yorker

“Chandler seems to have created the culminating American hero: wised up, hopeful, thoughtful, adventurous, sentimental, cynical and rebellious.” --Robert B. Parker, The New York Times Book Review

“Philip Marlowe remains the quintessential urban private eye.” -- Los Angeles Times

“Nobody can write like Chandler on his home turf, not even Faulkner. . . . An original. . . . A great artist.” — The Boston Book Review

“Raymond Chandler was one of the finest prose writers of the twentieth century. . . . Age does not wither Chandler’s prose. . . . He wrote like an angel.” -- Literary Review

“[T]he prose rises to heights of unselfconscious eloquence, and we realize with a jolt of excitement that we are in the presence of not a mere action tale teller, but a stylist, a writer with a vision.” --Joyce Carol Oates, The New York Review of Books

“Chandler wrote like a slumming angel and invested the sun-blinded streets of Los Angeles with a romantic presence.” —Ross Macdonald

“Raymond Chandler is a star of the first magnitude.” --Erle Stanley Gardner

“Raymond Chandler invented a new way of talking about America, and America has never looked the same to us since.” --Paul Auster

“[Chandler]’s the perfect novelist for our times. He takes us into a different world, a world that’s like ours, but isn’t. ” --Carolyn See

From the Inside Flap

In the four long stories in this collection, Marlowe is hired to protect a rich old guy from a gold digger, runs afoul of crooked politicos, gets a line on some stolen jewels with a reward attached, and stumbles across a murder victim who may have been an extortionist.

From the Back Cover

In the four long stories in this collection, Marlowe is hired to protect a rich old guy from a gold digger, runs afoul of crooked politicos, gets a line on some stolen jewels with a reward attached, and stumbles across a murder victim who may have been an extortionist.

About the Author

Raymond Thornton Chandler (1888 - 1959) was the master practitioner of American hard-boiled crime fiction. Although he was born in Chicago, Chandler spent most of his boyhood and youth in England where he attended Dulwich College and later worked as a freelance journalist for The Westminster Gazette and The Spectator. During World War I, Chandler served in France with the First Division of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, transferring later to the Royal Flying Corps (R. A. F.). In 1919 he returned to the United States, settling in California, where he eventually became director of a number of independent oil companies. The Depression put an end to his career, and in 1933, at the age of forty-five, he turned to writing fiction, publishing his first stories in Black Mask. Chandler’s detective stories often starred the brash but honorable Philip Marlowe (introduced in 1939 in his first novel, The Big Sleep) and were noted for their literate presentation and dead-on critical eye. Never a prolific writer, Chandler published only one collection of stories and seven novels in his lifetime. Some of Chandler’s novels, like The Big Sleep, were made into classic movies which helped define the film noir style. In the last year of his life he was elected president of the Mystery Writers of America. He died in La Jolla, California on March 26, 1959.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

ONE

Anna Halsey was about two hundred and forty pounds of middle-aged putty-faced woman in a black tailor-made suit. Her eyes were shiny black shoe buttons, her cheeks were as soft as suet and about the same color. She was sitting behind a black glass desk that looked like Napoleon''s tomb and she was smoking a cigarette in a black holder that was not quite as long as a rolled umbrella. She said: "I need a man."

I watched her shake ash from the cigarette to the shiny top of the desk where flakes of it curled and crawled in the draft from an open window.

"I need a man good-looking enough to pick up a dame who has a sense of class, but he''s got to be tough enough to swap punches with a power shovel. I need a guy who can act like a bar lizard and backchat like Fred Allen, only better, and get hit on the head with a beer truck and think some cutie in the leg-line topped him with a breadstick."

"It''s a cinch," I said. "You need the New York Yankees, Robert Donat, and the Yacht Club Boys."

"You might do," Anna said, "cleaned up a little. Twenty bucks a day and ex''s. I haven''t brokered a job in years, but this one is out of my line. I''m in the smooth-angles of the detecting business and I make money without getting my can knocked off. Let''s see how Gladys likes you."

She reversed the cigarette holder and tipped a key on a large black-and-chromium annunciator box. "Come in and empty Anna''s ash tray, honey.";

We waited.

The door opened and a tall blonde dressed better than the Duchess of Windsor strolled in.

She swayed elegantly across the room, emptied Anna''s ash tray, patted her fat cheek, gave me a smooth rippling glance and went out again.

"I think she blushed," Anna said when the door closed. "I guess you still have It."

"She blushed--and I have a dinner date with Darryl Zanuck," I said. "Quit horsing around. What''s the story?"

"It''s to smear a girl. A redheaded number with bedroom eyes. She''s shill for a gambler and she''s got her hooks into a rich man''s pup."

"What do I do to her?"

Anna sighed. "It''s kind of a mean job, Philip, I guess. If she''s got a record of any sort, you dig it up and toss it in her face. If she hasn''t, which is more likely as she comes from good people, it''s kind of up to you. You get an idea once in a while, don''t you?"

"I can''t remember the last one I had. What gambler and what rich man?"

"Marty Estel."

I started to get up from my chair, then remembered that business had been bad for a month and that I needed the money.

I sat down again.

"You might get into trouble, of course," Anna said. "I never heard of Marty bumping anybody off in the public square at high noon, but he don''t play with cigar coupons."

"Trouble is my business," I said. "Twenty-five a day and guarantee of two-fifty, if I pull the job."

"I gotta make a little something for myself," Anna whined.

"O.K. There''s plenty of coolie labor around town. Nice to have seen you looking so well. So long, Anna."

I stood up this time. My life wasn''t worth much, but it was worth that much. Marty Estel was supposed to be pretty tough people, with the right helpers and the right protection behind him. His place was out in West Hollywood, on the Strip. He wouldn''t pull anything crude, but if he pulled at all, something would pop.

"Sit down, it''s a deal," Anna sneered. "I''m a poor old broken-down woman trying to run a high-class detective agency on nothing but fat and bad health, so take my last nickel and laugh at me."

"Who''s the girl?" I had sat down again.

"Her name is Harriet Huntress--a swell name for the part too. She lives in the El Milano, nineteen-hundred block on North Sycamore, very high-class. Father went broke back in thirty-one and jumped out of his office window. Mother dead. Kid sister in boarding school back in Connecticut. That might make an angle."

"Who dug up all this?"

"The client got a bunch of photostats of notes the pup had given to Marty. Fifty grand worth. The pup--he''s an adopted son to the old man--denied the notes, as kids will. So the client had the photostats experted by a guy named Arbogast, who pretends to be good at that sort of thing. He said O.K. and dug around a bit, but he''s too fat to do legwork, like me, and he''s off the case now."

"But I could talk to him?"

"I don''t know why not." Anna nodded several of her chins.

"This client--does he have a name?"

"Son, you have a treat coming. You can meet him in person--right now."

She tipped the key of her call box again. "Have Mr. Jeeter come in, honey."

"That Gladys," I said, "does she have a steady?"

"You lay off Gladys!" Anna almost screamed at me. "She''s worth eighteen grand a year in divorce business to me. Any guy that lays a finger on her, Philip Marlowe, is practically cremated."

"She''s got to fall some day," I said. "Why couldn''t I catch her?"

The opening door stopped that.

I hadn''t seen him in the paneled reception room, so he must have been waiting in a private office. He hadn''t enjoyed it. He came in quickly, shut the door quickly, and yanked a thin octagonal platinum watch from his vest and glared at it. He was a tall white-blond type in pin-striped flannel of youthful cut. There was a small pink rosebud in his lapel. He had a keen frozen face, a little pouchy under the eyes, a little thick in the lips. He carried an ebony cane with a silver knob, wore spats and looked a smart sixty, but I gave him close to ten years more. I didn''t like him.

"Twenty-six minutes, Miss Halsey," he said icily. "My time happens to be valuable. By regarding it as valuable I have managed to make a great deal of money."

"Well, we''re trying to save you some of the money," Anna drawled. She didn''t like him either. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Jeeter, but you wanted to see the operative I selected and I had to send for him."

"He doesn''t look the type to me," Mr. Jeeter said, giving me a nasty glance. I think more of a gentleman--"

"You''re not the Jeeter of Tobacco Road, are you?" I asked him.

He came slowly towards me and half lifted the stick. His icy eyes tore at me like claws. "So you insult me," he said. "Me--a man in my position."

"Now wait a minute," Anna began.

"Wait a minute nothing," I said. "This party said I was not a gentleman. Maybe that''s O.K. for a man in his position, whatever it is--but a man in my position doesn''t take a dirty crack from anybody. He can''t afford to. Unless, of course, it wasn''t intended."

Mr. Jeeter stiffened and glared at me. He took his watch out again and looked at it. "Twenty-eight minutes," he said. "I apologize, young man. I had no desire to be rude."

"That''s swell," I said. "I knew you weren''t the Jeeter in Tobacco Road all along."

That almost started him again, but he let it go. He wasn''t sure how I meant it.

"A question or two while we are together," I said. "Are you willing to give this Huntress girl a little money--for expenses?"

"Not one cent," he barked. "Why should I?"

"It''s got to be a sort of custom. Suppose she married him. What would he have?"

"At the moment a thousand dollars a month from a trust fund established by his mother, my late wife." He dipped his head. "When he is twenty-eight years old, far too much money."

"You can''t blame the girl for trying," I said. "Not these days. How about Marty Estel? Any settlement there?"

He crumpled his gray gloves with a purple-veined hand. "The debt is uncollectible. It is a gambling debt."

Anna sighed wearily and flicked ash around on her desk.

"Sure," I said. "But gamblers can''t afford to let people welsh on them. After all, if your son had won, Marty would have paid him."

"I''m not interested in that," the tall thin man said coldly.

"Yeah, but think of Marty sitting there with fifty grand in notes. Not worth a nickel. How will he sleep nights?"

Mr. Jeeter looked thoughtful. "You mean there is danger of violence?" he suggested, almost suavely.

"That''s hard to say. He runs an exclusive place, gets a good movie crowd. He has his own reputation to think of. But he''s in a racket and he knows people. Things can happen--a long way off from where Marty is. And Marty is no bathmat. He gets up and walks."

Mr. Jeeter looked at his watch again and it annoyed him. He slammed it back into his vest. "All that is your affair," he snapped. "The district attorney is a personal friend of mine. If this matter seems to be beyond your powers--"

"Yeah," I told him. "But you came slumming down our street just the same. Even if the D.A. is in your vest pocket--along with that watch."

He put his hat on, drew on one glove, tapped the edge of his shoe with his stick, walked to the door and opened it.

"I ask results and I pay for them," he said coldly. "I pay promptly. I even pay generously sometimes, although I am not considered a generous man. I think we all understand one another."

He almost winked then and went on out. The door closed softly against the cushion of air in the door-closer. I looked at Anna and grinned.

"Sweet, isn''t he?"; she said. "I''d like eight of him for my cocktail set."

I gouged twenty dollars out of her--for expenses.

TWO

The Arbogast I wanted was John D. Arbogast and he had an office on Sunset near Ivar. I called him up from a phone booth. The voice that answered was fat. It wheezed softly, like the voice of a man who had just won a pie-eating contest.

"Mr. John D. Arbogast?"

"Yeah."

"This is Philip Marlowe, a private detective working on a case you did some experting on. Party named Jeeter."

"Yeah?"

";Can I come up and talk to you about it--after I eat lunch?"

"Yeah." He hung up. I decided he was not a talkative man.

I had lunch and drove out there. It was east of Ivar, an old two-story building faced with brick which had been painted recently. The street floor was stores and a restaurant. The building entrance was the foot of a wide straight stairway to the second floor. On the directory at the bottom I read: John D. Arbogast, Suite 212. I went up the stairs and found myself in a wide straight hall that ran parallel with the street. A man in a smock was standing in an open doorway down to my right. He wore a round mirror strapped to his forehead and pushed back, and his face had a puzzled expression. He went back to his office and shut the door.

I went the other way, about half the distance along the hall. A door on the side away from Sunset was lettered: JOHN D. ARBOGAST, EXAMINER OF QUESTIONED DOCUMENTS. PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. ENTER. The door opened without resistance onto a small windowless anteroom with a couple of easy chairs, some magazines, two chromium smoking stands. There were two floor lamps and a ceiling fixture, all lighted. A door on the other side of the cheap but thick new rug was lettered: JOHN D. ARBOGAST, EXAMINER OF QUESTIONED DOCUMENTS. PRIVATE.

A buzzer had rung when I opened the outer door and gone on ringing until it closed. Nothing happened. Nobody was in the waiting room. The inner door didn''t open. I went over and listened at the panel-no sound of conversation inside. I knocked. That didn''t buy me anything either. I tried the knob. It turned, so I opened the door and went in.

This room had two north windows, both curtained at the sides and both shut tight. There was dust on the sills. There was a desk, two filing cases, a carpet which was just a carpet, and walls which were just walls. To the left another door with a glass panel was lettered: JOHN D. ARBOGAST. LABORATORY, PRIVATE.

I had an idea I might be able to remember the name.

The room in which I stood was small. It seemed almost too small even for the pudgy hand that rested on the edge of the desk, motionless, holding a fat pencil like a carpenter''s pencil. The hand had a wrist, hairless as a plate. A buttoned shirt cuff, not too clean, came down out of a coat sleeve. The rest of the sleeve dropped over the far edge of the desk out of sight. The desk was less than six feet long, so he couldn''t have been a very tall man. The hand and the ends of the sleeves were all I saw of him from where I stood. I went quietly back through the anteroom and fixed its door so that it couldn''t be opened from the outside and put out the three lights and went back to the private office. I went around an end of the desk.

He was fat all right, enormously fat, fatter by far than Anna Halsey. His face, what I could see of it, looked about the size of a basket ball. It had a pleasant pinkness, even now. He was kneeling on the floor. He had his large head against the sharp inner corner of the kneehole of the desk, and his left hand was flat on the floor with a piece of yellow paper under it. The fingers were outspread as much as such fat fingers could be, and the yellow paper showed between. He looked as if he were pushing hard on the floor, but he wasn''t really. What was holding him up was his own fat. His body was folded down against his enormous thighs, and the thickness and fatness of them held him that way, kneeling, poised solid. It would have taken a couple of good blocking backs to knock him over. That wasn''t a very nice idea at the moment, but I had it just the same. I took time out and wiped the back of my neck, although it was not a warm day.

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Top reviews from the United States

Frank DonnellyTop Contributor: Poetry Books
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Trouble Is My Business - A Taut Crisp Short Story, Classic Chandler
Reviewed in the United States on May 20, 2019
"Trouble Is My Business" is a fast moving Philip Marlowe short story authored by Raymond Chandler. It is tight and fast paced. It is a classic "Noir" detective story written by one of the masters. This audiobook is narrated by Elliott Gould. He speaks rapidly, but I... See more
"Trouble Is My Business" is a fast moving Philip Marlowe short story authored by Raymond Chandler. It is tight and fast paced. It is a classic "Noir" detective story written by one of the masters. This audiobook is narrated by Elliott Gould. He speaks rapidly, but I think that this is intentional to capture the spirit of a Raymond Chandler detective story. It should be noted that when Mister Gould is narrating this story he uses a name OTHER than Philip Marlowe.

Raymond Chandler is an expert at making compelling comparisons. In the first paragraph of this story, you will meet a lady with eyes like "black shiny shoe buttons" sitting behind a desk that looks like "Napoleon''s tomb". There are times one experiences this style as much as reads it.

Without question, Raymond Chandler is one of the pioneers of the hard hitting, hard drinking, Noir detective genre. I really do not think it''s possible to understand and appreciate where the modern private detective style derives from without reading Raymond Chandler. This is not high literature. But it is definitely an art form. This particular audiobook can be listened to along side the Kindle edition of this story. I believe the Kindle was 0.99.

I completely enjoyed this particular audiobook of "Trouble Is My Business" narrated by Elliott Gould. The reading is fast paced. I often read ahead on Kindle and then listened to Mister Gould. It was a fun reading and listening experience. Thank You...
8 people found this helpful
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Donald F. Kaminski
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Booze and Lip
Reviewed in the United States on December 14, 2016
I''ve always enjoyed Raymond Chandler and some of his stories are better than others. This particular book is a collection of four short stories about Philip Marlowe. What is phenomenal about the stories is the use of slang. I thought I was up on all the usage for the... See more
I''ve always enjoyed Raymond Chandler and some of his stories are better than others. This particular book is a collection of four short stories about Philip Marlowe. What is phenomenal about the stories is the use of slang. I thought I was up on all the usage for the period, but this just blew me away. The stories are fast paced simply because Chandler had to compress plots that otherwise would have stretched out into novel length. The other aspect of the tough detective that defies my ability to comprehend is the amount of booze this guy can consume without becoming woozy. In one episode, Marlowe gets beaten up in a stranger''s apartment, and to provide himself relief from the pain, he drinks half a bottle of scotch; and while leaving the apartment, he puts the bottle in his pocket to consume on the drive home. These are fun tales. I read them in between full length books, and enjoyed every one.
23 people found this helpful
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Judge Baylor
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
A man rushes in with a gun
Reviewed in the United States on February 12, 2019
Four stories featuring, Marlowe, the smartest and most honest detective in Los Angeles. They stories feature Marlowe wrapped up in mysteries brought about by taking a tail job from another private eye, testifying in front of a grand jury, because an old friend hears one of... See more
Four stories featuring, Marlowe, the smartest and most honest detective in Los Angeles. They stories feature Marlowe wrapped up in mysteries brought about by taking a tail job from another private eye, testifying in front of a grand jury, because an old friend hears one of her lodgers talking about an old score and because he is drinking when someone rushes in asking for a girl and gets killed by a drunk in the corner. In every story, Marlowe is able to weave together wisp thin clues into a coherent story and be able to make a few bucks. Very entertaining
7 people found this helpful
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Michele Nachum
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Reading Chandler is like eating the best cake of your life - utterly delicious
Reviewed in the United States on October 29, 2014
Raymond Chandler is my favorite writer of all time. His stories are interesting, his hero is a bit too good to be true -- but his descriptions and the underlying human feelings that lie beneath the tough exterior of our detective Phillip Marlowe is excellent. There is one... See more
Raymond Chandler is my favorite writer of all time. His stories are interesting, his hero is a bit too good to be true -- but his descriptions and the underlying human feelings that lie beneath the tough exterior of our detective Phillip Marlowe is excellent. There is one scene that gets me in this anthology of short stories: Marlowe is being held up at gun point by a bad guy and Marlowe says, "I wasn''t scared. I was paralyzed." That is the kind of emotion most of us can relate to. Chandler writes in a somewhat noir fashion and uses the racist terms of the time (1940s/1950s) -- but Chandler was not racist himself I believe and uncovered the police corruption in this book of short stories as well as others.For instance showing how police related to both African Americans and Hispanics alike -- not nice at all during those times - not sure it''s much better today. Look reading these books is a bit like reading Gone with the Wind - it''s very feminist if you don''t mind the racism -- and I do mind it so never read it again. Chandler tries hard not to make his Marlowe hero a racist and in some cases helps other cultures who could end up at the mercy of the police. This is a book of short stories but compelling ones (usual Damsel in distress - puhleese) and no one writes like Chandler -- reading him is like eating the best cake you ever had - utterly delicious and still relevant 70-plus years later. Now if Marlowe just had a cell phone or a an iPad -- do believe his life would have been easier but a lot less interesting!
14 people found this helpful
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doc peterson
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
four great short stories by Chandler
Reviewed in the United States on January 23, 2015
If you are unfamiliar with Raymond Chandler, you are in for a treat (and I envy you the experience of reading him for the first time.) Having virtually invented the genre of the hard-boiled noir detective, _Trouble Is My Business_ features four short stories featuring... See more
If you are unfamiliar with Raymond Chandler, you are in for a treat (and I envy you the experience of reading him for the first time.) Having virtually invented the genre of the hard-boiled noir detective, _Trouble Is My Business_ features four short stories featuring Philip Marlowe, the iconic private detective in all his glory. Each story is about 60 pages long - enough for a brief escape, but each tremendously entertaining. The plots vary from helping an old friend with crooked gambling winnings to accidentially getting caught up in a muder at a diner, readers are constantly kept on their toes, never quite sure of where Chandler will take them, what problems will preent themselves next or how Marlowe will manage to solve the case. While each story is a gem on their own, what keeps me coming back to Chandler is his writing style: short, staccato sentences, gritty settings and dialogue that is as unique and snappy as it is dated.

For mystery fans as well as those who like a step back in time 80 (or so years), you simply can''t beat Chandler. While his longer stories are excellent, these four short stories make an excellent introduction to the author and the genre. Highly recommended.
3 people found this helpful
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Don Null
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Classical Literature
Reviewed in the United States on April 2, 2018
Chandler is a classic, his detective fiction is the icon for the genre. His Marlowe is the quintessential hard-boiled private investigator. His women run the gamut from sultry seductress to desiccated millionaire matrons. Honor, integrity, and a cowboy like sensitivity to... See more
Chandler is a classic, his detective fiction is the icon for the genre. His Marlowe is the quintessential hard-boiled private investigator. His women run the gamut from sultry seductress to desiccated millionaire matrons. Honor, integrity, and a cowboy like sensitivity to the right thing are his hallmark. It''s fun to watch all these classic talents move like a watch mechanism through the setting of post-war Los Angeles. Damn, it''s too bad he didn''t write more stories.
One person found this helpful
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Kindle Customer
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Just the usual...
Reviewed in the United States on August 30, 2017
No one ever wrote like Chandler. No one ever will. We can only hope. Yet, I''d just as soon have his works continue to be the benchmark to which all authors of any genre aspire. Unfortunately, Raymond Chandler wrote far too few. I''ve read them all, many times. I might... See more
No one ever wrote like Chandler. No one ever will. We can only hope. Yet, I''d just as soon have his works continue to be the benchmark to which all authors of any genre aspire. Unfortunately, Raymond Chandler wrote far too few. I''ve read them all, many times. I might remember parts of the plots, though it''s not the plots that makes anyone read any more after the first. It''s the atmosphere, the language of the rich and the dialects of the poor, the seldom heard from, the wiseguys and those that think they are that brings me back over and over again. Try any of his work. You''ll agree. Don''t forget the little collections of small stories. I''ll guaranty you''ll be back for more.
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Desert Rat
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Four shorts by Chandler
Reviewed in the United States on April 21, 2021
What is there to say? A the top of the genre stands Raymond Chandler. Then there is a modest gap and there is Hammet. Below that is an even bigger gap until you get to the minor leagues — and not even AAA. Four short stories. From Black Mask? Big question:... See more
What is there to say? A the top of the genre stands Raymond Chandler. Then there is a modest gap and there is Hammet. Below that is an even bigger gap until you get to the minor leagues — and not even AAA.

Four short stories. From Black Mask? Big question: why was “Red Wind” never made in to a movie? The story’s last sentence is a killer.
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Top reviews from other countries

Matt Bell
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Early Philip Marlowe sets the scene for future adventures.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on February 21, 2021
This is where we first hear of the antics of private eye Philip Marlowe. Tough and gritty stuff which sets the scene for the future encounters with Chandler’s private detective. Fabulous writing and addictive stuff.
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joe saleh
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Chandler the Master, I’m a sick as a seaside donkey, I finished Trouble is my Business in one read, what did like about it it’s quicker to tell what I didn’t like “NOTHING”!!!! Raymond Chandler a master at his craft.anyone remotely interested in this genre Trouble is my Business is must on their “Hit List”
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on March 31, 2020
Raymond Chandler the master,the life like-characters, the absolute feel and scent on every page of noir,hardboiled and pulp,anyone not acquainted with this genre I recommend Trouble is my Business,as an aperitif to wonderful feast,one I wish I sitting downtown to for the...See more
Raymond Chandler the master,the life like-characters, the absolute feel and scent on every page of noir,hardboiled and pulp,anyone not acquainted with this genre I recommend Trouble is my Business,as an aperitif to wonderful feast,one I wish I sitting downtown to for the very first time. ,
One person found this helpful
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mikes
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Dated jargon
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on August 20, 2021
Written in telegraphese that is very dated and at times impenetrable to the modern ear. Somewhat redeemed by the plot lines. Other books are more readily enjoyable eg The Big Sleep.
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Tone the Cone
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Collection of short stories, not for me prefer chandlers full length style.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on November 17, 2017
I didn''t realise but this is a collection of short stories, Unfortunately I found these Novellas a bit too fast paced and they also lacked the usual amount of sense of humour, only the occasional smart one liners. I''m sure there could have been enough of a plot for Chandler...See more
I didn''t realise but this is a collection of short stories, Unfortunately I found these Novellas a bit too fast paced and they also lacked the usual amount of sense of humour, only the occasional smart one liners. I''m sure there could have been enough of a plot for Chandler to get 4 full novels out of these stories.
2 people found this helpful
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Celeste
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
It''s OK but not up to the standard of his best work.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 14, 2019
I love Raymond Chandler but have read all of his books so whilst not to that standard, it was something different by him with the flavour of those more familiar works.
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