Review: Playback

Playback by Raymond Chandler

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



It's no secret that I love Chandler's Marlowe more than any other fictional detective. The books are high on style, even if the plotting isn't always particularly tight. Chandler was a master of colorful language, from his amazing descriptions of the city, to the playful dialogue.

Which is why this review is all the more difficult. Playback was the last of Chandler's Marlowe books, but what a sad way to go out. It's a rather anemic addition to the series, with Marlowe coming across as less of the magnificent bastard I've come to expect, and more of a creep. As another reviewer noted, this book lets us see a lot more of Marlowe through the eyes of other characters, and what we see is a sad, lonely man... an annoyance.

Marlowe wanders around a lot, gets in the way, and, ultimately, doesn't actually help anyone. Where is his sharp tongue and confidence? Where is his sharp mind?

And the final conclusion? An unexpected and unnecessary phone call from the past that left me shaking my head.

Another reviewer suggested that at least a few of the events here are all in Marlowe's head, and that we're seeing him at his lowest point, as he's losing his grip. That's the only thing saving this book from two stars, frankly.

Ultimately, Playback just doesn't live up to the other books in the series. It lacks the color and excitement of the earlier books, and I may need to read one of those to get the bad taste out of my mouth.



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