"'I never had a forty-five,' I said. 'A guy who needs that much gun ought to use a pick.'" (pg. 41)

Having read all seven of the Philip Marlowe novels, I had put off reading any more of Raymond Chandler's work for a few years. The next up was Trouble is My Business, and I put it off because I expected it to be a bit of a scraping of the barrel: a collection of shorter Marlowe stories, originally published in pulp magazines, including material that Chandler later reworked into his novels. I should have known, really, how wrong this assumption would be, for in the world of Philip Marlowe, of world-weary cops and knockabout dames, it's always been about what bubbles up from the bottom of Bay City. Chandler's always been about making the scraping of the barrel sound like the scraping of a violin.

At first, I thought the enjoyment I was getting out of the book was due to the surprise of revisiting an old friend and getting along so well you wonder why you'd ever lost touch in the first place. Settling back into Chandler's prose rhythms was a joy, with Marlowe's sharp, witty and lyrical negotiation of his investigations in full evidence here. This is classic Marlowe in these pages, from first page to last. But the opening story, the titular 'Trouble is My Business', also had that byzantine sketchiness to its plot which is also characteristic of Chandler's writing, and I thought perhaps my enjoyment was just a case of that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" feeling.

However, each of the four stories in Trouble is My Business is better than the last, with the final one, 'Red Wind', being a minor masterpiece. I hesitate to call it Chandler's best work, as any of The Lady in the Lake, The Little Sister and Farewell, My Lovely might then walk into my room with a gun drawn, but damn if it's not tight. And we get a heady dose of classic Chandler, including the following (which is by no means the only example):

"The door swung shut. I started to rush it – from long practice in doing the wrong thing. In this case it didn't matter. The car outside let out a roar and when I got onto the sidewalk it was flicking a red smear of tail-light around the nearby corner. I got its license number the way I got my first million." (pg. 214)

It's sometimes hard to follow what's going on in a Chandler story, but the final three stories in this book all benefit from their short, composed length. It's some of Chandler's clearest plotting. We never lose sight of the goal, and when added to Chandler's eye for character, drama and particularly dialogue, the effect is formidable. Far from being a collection of cast-offs, a money-spinning corral of fictional miscellany, Trouble is My Business should be considered an essential part of the Philip Marlowe canon, and one that shines as bright as any of its other lights. ( )

These four stories were likely published between 1934-1938 in pulp magazines. This collection was first published in 1950. In the introduction, Chandler measures his writing against the social context of the times, and warns "The mystery story is a kind of writing that need not dwell in the shadow of the past and owes little if any allegiance to the cult of the classics."

[Raymond Chandler La Jolla, California, February 15, 1950] ( )

Interesting to read short stories which later got incorporated into novels. A glimpse into the sausage factory but not too gruesome. When I was reading Farewell my lovely the whole fortune teller segment seemed out of place, now I know it's because it was yanked out of a short story where it was more developed. ( )

So rich! The language, the setting, all as staged and vivid as Chinese Opera. That was a fun read! ( )

Marlowe short stories? How's that going to work? I'm happy (though not surprised) to say very well. Fewer suspects, quicker solves, same snarky private detective going about his work pretending not to care about anything and getting back up every time he's knocked down. This collection contains four stories.

"Trouble is My Business" -- A day in the life of Marlowe: body count three, held at gunpoint at least that many times, hit in the head once, consumed at least one full bottle of Scotch over the course of sixty pages. Compared to the other three, this story feels a bit rough, the motives of the villains a bit muddled. My guess without researching is that these stories were placed in chronological order of their writing, because each one has a finer form than the one before it.

"Finger Man" -- This one feels especially fresh if you've read all the novels and are used to the setup of Marlowe's getting a case and chasing down leads despite threats and concussions. Marlowe is actually the titular character, witness to a murder and trying to stay alive long enough to testify, and of course simultaneously looking out for a stupid buddy who thinks he can rip off the mob and live to tell about it. Giving Marlowe personal history with this character notches up the stakes from the last story. Chandler is so skilled in trampling his protagonist's heart as well as inflicting bodily harm. The former is always more difficult for the writer and more moving for the reader.

"Goldfish" -- I kind of guessed the big secret of this one (I mean, if I wasn't meant to, the title should have been reconsidered). But it's a good read regardless. A lead surfaces on long-lost stolen pearls, and of course the bodies pile up as humans do what humans will, chasing the promise of wealth with no regard for consequences. The twist here: Marlowe gets financially well compensated for his work. I'm not sure that has happened before in this entire series.

"Red Wind" -- The best story of the lot. This (even more so than the others) is the prose I know to expect from Chandler, as proved by the opening paragraph:

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.

Marlowe gets pulled into a mystery when a man is shot dead in front of him (in aforementioned cocktail lounge), and kept in the thick of things by his concern for a woman who's caught in the middle. It's a sad and lovely story, a perfect closing.

My edition includes the foreword by Chandler, and I love his honest perspective on the evolution of the genre and his thoughts on what a detective story is and isn't, his ideas on the "perfect" example of his genre not being written yet. Looking forward to completing all Chandler's currently published works with [b:The Simple Art of Murder|2051|The Simple Art of Murder|Raymond Chandler|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1427858651s/2051.jpg|1165594]. ( )