Hmmm

In my 20s I loved Raymond Chandler.

I was teaching high school film study, and in my preparation to teach Film Noir I perused Raymond Chandler’s “Farewell, My Sweet.”

How much I fell in love with the writing and the character.

There was a dry wit/humor to the writing, and a cadence that only belongs to Raymond Chandler. I enjoyed that it took place in LA during the 40s and 50s, and that he was a tough decent character in a sea of seedy characters.

I read one book after another. And I read Chandler’s biography. And then I moved on with life.

I left teaching. Raised my kids. Found other things to read.

Last week I was reading the Longmire series. And there is something about that character that reminds me of Philip Marlowe, and something about that writing that reminds me of Raymond Chandler. And I found myself re-reading The Long Goodbye.

How much I love it.

Anyway, happiness is rediscovering a past joy we’d put aside. And I’m looking forward to re-reading all of Chandler’s novels over the next few years.