I’ve been reading A LOT of Raymond Chandler recently- as of tonight I’m on novel number six. And while Dashiell Hammett is the more celebrated author of hard-boiled detective stories, Chandler deftly captures the character of 1930s and 1940s Los Angeles, which is what keeps bringing me back for more.

At his best, he reminds me of Didion:

“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.”

And that’s pretty much the highest praise I can give.

1940 photo of Raymond Chandler via The Guardian.