This was Raymond Chandler's last novel, published before he died. It doesn't seem quite up to his earlier books. This novel is shorter in length and less rich in details about the rich and corrupt. Chandler had worked for years as a scriptwriter in Hollywood. His drinking may have flushed away his talents. This 1958 story does not have the range of contrasts in his earlier stories (not necessarily a bad thing). The monetary figures are far out of date. An $18 a day hotel room doesn't imply the luxury it did then.

Philip Marlowe receives an early morning telephone call to follow a passenger on the Super Chief. [That was an express railroad train in those bygone days.] Marlowe does this even he knows little about this job. [He needed the money?] He learns others are interested in his subject for their own reasons. Was she a murderess who got off because of a quirk in the law? [Chandler must have been talking to Erle Stanley Gardner.] Is there a nasty blackmailer pestering Eleanor King? Will somebody stop him? Marlowe has the same kind of adventures with the same kind of people that you find in his earlier works. One big difference is that middle-aged Marlowe refuses payment from a client, as if money means nothing to him! There is less violence too. In the past Marlowe suffered beatings as if Chandler was secretly angry with his fictional character. The refusal to accept payment for his work is so fantastic as to question the judgment of Chandler. Will Marlowe marry a rich heiress to live the life of Nick Charles? That was a dead-end for Dashiell Hammett. There are echoes of scenes from his earlier works. And old, rich, and sick man hired Marlowe but the ending leaves few people satisfied. Or is that the most realistic ending?

This was Raymond Chandler's last novel, published before he died. It doesn't seem quite up to his earlier books. This novel is shorter in length and less rich in details about the rich and corrupt. Chandler had worked for years as a scriptwriter in Hollywood. His drinking may have flushed away his talents. This 1958 story does not have the range of contrasts in his earlier stories (not necessarily a bad thing). The monetary figures are far out of date. An $18 a day hotel room doesn't imply the luxury it did then.

Philip Marlowe receives an early morning telephone call to follow a passenger on the Super Chief. [That was an express railroad train in those bygone days.] Marlowe does this even he knows little about this job. [He needed the money?] He learns others are interested in his subject for their own reasons. Was she a murderess who got off because of a quirk in the law? [Chandler must have been talking to Erle Stanley Gardner.] Is there a nasty blackmailer pestering Eleanor King? Will somebody stop him? Marlowe has the same kind of adventures with the same kind of people that you find in his earlier works. One big difference is that middle-aged Marlowe refuses payment from a client, as if money means nothing to him! There is less violence too. In the past Marlowe suffered beatings as if Chandler was secretly angry with his fictional character. The refusal to accept payment for his work is so fantastic as to question the judgment of Chandler. Will Marlowe marry a rich heiress to live the life of Nick Charles? That was a dead-end for Dashiell Hammett. There are echoes of scenes from his earlier works. And old, rich, and sick man hired Marlowe but the ending leaves few people satisfied. Or is that the most realistic ending?

Phillip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler's classic noir hard-boiled, fundamentally honest private detective forever literarily associated with Los Angeles and its means streets is a bit off course here in his search for the inevitable exotic/diabolical `missing woman' (`dame' for the non-politically correct types)outside of San Diego. And it is more than the geography that is off. I love Chandler as a great writer with a good ear from the West Coast American scene in the 1940's but hasn't Marlowe followed that woman before in a previous novel? You get my drift. Sure there is plenty of sparse but functional dialogue, physical action and a couple of plot twists but Marlowe needs to think about that rest home for worn- out indigent gumshoes (since he never made enough money). He has taken one too many hits on the head for the lastest worthy cause. Give me those background oil derricks that sound like money churning out the wealth while looking for General Sternwood's Rusty Regan in Big Sleep or the run down stucco flats in pursue of Moose's Velma in Farewell, My Lovely any day. However, even on his uppers as always with Chandler you get high literature in a plebian package. Read on.

In 1953, Raymond Chandler published his finest work, "The Long Goodbye." It took him five years to release his next Philip Marlowe mystery, but in 1958 he finally released "Playback," a reworking of a rejected screenplay Chandler had written. In "Playback," aging private eye Philip Marlowe is hired by a gruff law firm to follow a young woman, but he's never told why he's following her or truthfully who she is. Reluctantly Marlowe goes along with it all, but finds there's a lot he doesn't know when an egotistic and curious man begins harrassing Marlowe's target.

Many a person has called "Playback" Chandler's weakest novel, and they're not wrong. The writing lacks the luster and appreciation for life found in Chandler's other books, and the mystery is lacking in the complexity and therefor intrigue which previous Marlowe mysteries held. The conclusion of the mystery is equally unspectacular. But it's not all bad: even at his weakest, Raymond Chandler stands head and shoulders above the rest. There are a number of delightful lines in the book, and it's never once dull. If nothing else, the beautiful and wonderfully upbeat ending makes reading it worthwhile.

Unfortunately, "Playback" was the final novel Chandler published before his death in 1959. (The beginnings of his next Marlowe mystery, "Poodle Springs," can be found in his short story collection "The Simple Art of Murder.") Despite its status as Chandler's weakest work, "Playback" is a fitting and suitably low-key close to the portfolio of one of the greatest American writers who ever lived. The novel's final line cheerily states, "The air was full of music," closing the book on Mr. Philip Marlowe, and though it's been a hard goodbye, "Playback" makes it a sweet one.

"Playback" is Chandler's least of everything. It's his least funny, least compelling, and least believable novel. Most Chandler/Marlowe novels stretch credulity in the big picture by using far-fetched coincidences to tie plot threads together. A few of his books--especially "The Big Sleep" and "Farewell, My Lovely"--are so good, I don't even mind.

But "Playback" stretches credulity in little moments. And in such moments, the dialogue is often painful to read, to wit: "Don't kid yourself. You're a dirty low-down detective. Kiss me." Ugh. The stale cliche of the resisting female melting in Marlowe's arms after some forceful manhandling is beyond tiresome. It's annoying.

I'm not sure what the opposite of unputdownable is (must be putdownable), but whatever it is, that's "Playback." I waded through its scant 166 pages, and I felt like I was fighting a riptide the whole way.

This book is for the diehard Chandler/Marlowe fan in the same way that "Pylon" is only for the diehard Faulkner fan or "Answered Prayers" for the diehard Capote fan. Chandler published "Playback" five years after "The Long Goodbye." You'd think in five years he could've mustered a better piece of writing and re-writing. But, figuratively speaking, he mailed this one in.

"Playback" is Chandler's least of everything. It's his least funny, least compelling, and least believable novel. Most Chandler/Marlowe novels stretch credulity in the big picture by using far-fetched coincidences to tie plot threads together. A few of his books--especially "The Big Sleep" and "Farewell, My Lovely"--are so good, I don't even mind.

But "Playback" stretches credulity in little moments. And in such moments, the dialogue is often painful to read, to wit: "Don't kid yourself. You're a dirty low-down detective. Kiss me." Ugh. The stale cliche of the resisting female melting in Marlowe's arms after some forceful manhandling is beyond tiresome. It's annoying.

I'm not sure what the opposite of unputdownable is (must be putdownable), but whatever it is, that's "Playback." I waded through its scant 166 pages, and I felt like I was fighting a riptide the whole way.

This book is for the diehard Chandler/Marlowe fan in the same way that "Pylon" is only for the diehard Faulkner fan or "Answered Prayers" for the diehard Capote fan. Chandler published "Playback" five years after "The Long Goodbye." You'd think in five years he could've mustered a better piece of writing and re-writing. But, figuratively speaking, he mailed this one in.

Private eye Philip Marlowe is asked by wealthy lawyer Clyde Umney to follow and report on the movements of a young woman. Reluctantly Marlowe accepts the job offer, but as he trails the girl he becomes more inquisitive as to why she is attracting interest. Inevitably, Marlowe's curiosity drags him into a complicated and weird set of circumstances.

This is one of the shorter Philip Marlowe novels and by no means Chandler's best - it's ascerbic and cynical, but the sharp bitterness and wit of other of his works are somewhat lacking in this one. It does have its moments though, such as Marlowe's verbal dual with rival private eye Goble and the ancient observer of life in general Henry Clarendon IV.

It's pretty good, but not a patch on his best stuff.

G Rodgers