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.
Red Wind — Raymond Chandler, 1938
If you’ve ever lived in Southern California, you recognize that atmospheric condition.
I tend to forget how much I enjoy Chandler. Thanks.
I sure do. Had a 90 degree F Christmas one year, and lived close enough to the beach that the house had no A/C. It’s bad enough then, but in the summer – dreadful.
That Raymond Chandler quote is spot on.
I don’t especially like Chandler – I consider him responsible for the retreat of the “puzzler” detective story, my favorite form, to be replace by the “tough guy” story in which everybody is drunk and everybody gets beaten up at least once. Too much violence. But even I admit the man can WRITE. That passage is brilliant.
love the next to the last sentence. Says it all.
Kind of like the 6 words that were written by Hemmingway (?) which reads like:
For Sale.
Baby Shoes.
Never Used.
I looked it up. That was indeed Hemingway. It’s actually “For Sale, baby shoes, never worn.”
It’s wonderfully evocative. Your mind can take you instantly into grief for the mother and father.
Chandler was pure genius.