a chance to see bruce willis's hairpiece: denied.
[Linda Tripp's spokesman] Coughter, told reporters outside that Mrs. Tripp had become the victim of a "shameful vendetta" and that the charges against her amounted to "the most disgracefully transparent campaign of politically motivated vengeance in recent American history."
(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)
Darin and I wanted to go to the sneak preview of The Sixth Sense tonight, but it was sold out. Neither of us thought that there had been that much publicity about the preview, but there was probably so much spillover from The Blair Witch Project that we never had a chance.
The other day I picked up Farewell, My Lovely, by Raymond Chandler, which has been on my to-read pile forever. I don't know why I didn't dig in immediately--I absolutely adored The Big Sleep (both the novel and movie, actually).
God, I love Chandler. I should go and buy the rest of his books right now. His writing is so inspirational, I wrote 7 completely new pages yesterday. I even wrote in first-person (because Philip Marlowe's tales are in the first-person). He's funny and tragic at the same time, with descriptions of his Los Angeles that are short and dead-on.
And the dialogue. You want to write great dialogue? Go read Chandler. I kept reading bits to Darin and cracking up. He uses repetition beautifully--not the Mametesque level where I want to slap someone. He uses nonsequiturs. He's funny, he's serious, and he's usually short--just like real conversation.
Here, Marlowe is talking to a psychic, whose business cards were found tucked inside some marihuana cigarettes, which were found on a dead guy:
"Please do not fidget," he said. "It breaks the waves, disturbs my concentration."
"It makes the ice melt, the butter run and the cat squawk," I said.
He smiled the faintest smile in the world. "You didn't come here to be impertinent, I'm sure."
"You seem to forget why I did come. By the way, I gave that hundred dollar bill back to your secretary. I came, as you may recall, about some cigarettes. Russian cigarettes filled with marihuana. With your card rolled in the hollow mouthpieces."
"You wish to find out why that happened."
"Yeah. I ought to be paying you the hundred dollars."
"That will not be necessary. The answer is simple. There are things I do not know. This is one of them."
For a moment I almost believed him. His face was as smooth as an angel's wing.
"Then why send me a hundred dollars--and a tough Indian that stinks--and a car? By the way, does the Indian have to stink? If he's working for you, couldn't you sort of get him to take a bath?"
"He is a natural medium. They are rare--like diamonds, and like diamonds, are sometimes found in dirty places. I understand you are a private detective?"
"Yes."
"I think you are a very stupid person. You look stupid. You are in a stupid business. And you came here on a stupid mission."
"I get it," I said. "I'm stupid. It sank in after a while."
Marlowe is always impertinent, and the psychic never uses a contraction. You always know who's talking. And it's fun. The conversation goes on for another page or two, and you never get bored. He's wonderful.
I don't know that much about Chandler--I assume he was an alcoholic; weren't they all? I have zero idea about his private life. (I had a joke in here about Lillian Hellman, but I see I have to explain that yes, I know Dashiell Hammett is the one who was with her; I was making a little joke about how it's easy to confuse tough-guy detectives. Clearly it was way too subtle.) He was nominated for an Oscar for Double Indeminity, but his co-writer was Billy Wilder, so who knows who did what.
I keep wondering about places he mentioned in Farewell, My Lovely, such as Bay City and Crestline (which sounds like Mulholland Drive, but I'm not sure) and Stillwood Heights. There must be some reference that gives an overview of Chandler's Los Angeles, no? (And there is: Karen writes in to tell me about Raymond Chandler's Los Angeles, by Elizabeth Ward and Alain Silver.)
The answer to yesterday's question: Gerhard Schroeder is the chancellor of Germany.
|
|
|
|
Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com