At some point most readers of fiction confuse author and protagonist. At the very least we wonder what parts of a novel are autobiographical. Raymond Chandler’s work is no exception. On the surface he bears little resemblance to the tough, wise-cracking detective Philip Marlow, the hero of Chandler’s six mystery novels. Chandler was shy, uptight and a little snobbish. But Tom Williams’ excellent new biography shows us that the two had more in common than the love of a good stiff drink. Chandler’s story, like Marlowe’s, is a tale of the American Far West, especially Los Angeles.

There have been two previous biographies, in 1976 and 1999. Selections of Chandler’s letters have been published, along with a fair amount of critical work. With so much out there, is a new biography really necessary? Apparently so. Chandler was a prolific letter writer, and Williams draws on a large archive of unpublished correspondence to bring us a deeper portrait of the writer. He discusses issues that previous biographies didn’t address: sexism, racism and homophobia in Chandler’s novels and how these attitudes relate to the author’s life and times.  Williams points out that some of these attitudes are only a reflection of the times but concludes “that views like this were common currency in the 1940s makes no difference — this is indefensible.”

Chandler’s own sexuality has been subject to speculation by critics, especially since Judith Freeman discussed the subject in her 2008 critical memoir The Long Embrace: Raymond Chandler and the Woman He Loved. Williams doesn’t offer an opinion but instead discusses Philip Marlowe’s close male friendships, a major theme in Chandler’s work: “Marlowe’s loneliness has a real chance of being addressed in Farewell My Lovely. His way of describing these men is loaded with homoeroticism because this is the only language with which he can fully express a desire for a connection.”

Even a casual reader of Chandler’s mysteries understands that, after Marlowe, the city of Los Angeles is the major character in the novels. In a way, Chandler grew up with Los Angeles, arriving there in the early 20th century after spending his childhood and youth in England, Ireland and the American Midwest. Los Angeles at the time was a boomtown, growing at a fantastic rate that led to an Old West kind of lawlessness. Chandler began his years in L.A. working for an oil company, where he was eyewitness to scandal and corruption in the oil business. His stories and novels grew out of this period. Williams resides in London but he either spent serious time in L.A. or is an excellent researcher or both. His evocation of the period is excellent.

Like many writers of his generation, Chandler was recruited to write for Hollywood in the 1940s, when the movies had eclipsed oil as Los Angeles’ major industry. Again Chandler was in the thick of the Los Angeles story. This section of the biography is perhaps the most fun, with anecdotes involving Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock and other Hollywood luminaries. Although Chandler professed to hate writing for film and never got along with Wilder or Hitchcock, he wrote Oscar-nominated screenplays and his work in pictures at least partly inspired his 1949 novel The Little Sister.

Literary biographers often have the task of chronicling the slow demise of their subject. Chandler’s last years were especially sad. He was heartbroken by the death of his beloved wife, Cissy. His alcoholism along with various health problems contributed to a long period of depression that resulted in a suicide attempt. Williams dutifully records these facts but deftly keeps the reader interested. Chandler’s late years also included warm friendships with Natasha Spender, Christopher Isherwood and others. And he produced the novel that is arguably his masterpiece, The Long Goodbye.

Although he wrote for pulp magazines like The Black Mask and his novels sold better in cheap pocket editions, Chandler aspired to be more than a popular crime writer. In an interesting afterword, Williams addresses this, quoting Frank MacShane’s 1976 biography: “The first thing I should say is that in this book I am treating Raymond Chandler as a novelist and not simply a detective story writer.”

The question of Chandler’s literary value is apparently still controversial. Given the body of critical work that has appeared since MacShane’s book, this is surprising. A Mysterious Something in the Light argues Chandler’s case beautifully. It is well researched, but because it is so well written it should be of interest to scholars and mystery fans alike.

Owen Hill is the author of two mystery novels and is co-editing a new annotated edition of Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep.

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