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In my review of Crumley’s The Last Good Kiss, I created the thesis that detective noir are, fundamentally, masculine romances. That is, they explore gender relations in the context of violence [I have a much more detailed discussion in the review]. And so far every noir I’ve read has seemed to fit this definition. Almost disappointingly so, for much of the magic has been lost now that I understand how the trick works. Still, the idea of a noir as a ‘masculine romance� is rather helpful in evaluating a noir novel, for I know the questions I ponder must be female centric: How good are the female characters? How interesting are their interactions with the male characters? What happens to the LIGHTHOUSE? Who is the femme fatale?

In creating this thesis, I furthermore broke noir female characters into a few basic types, which in turn reflect stereotypical gender roles:

*the LOVER, who might be better labeled the FRIEND, is a woman good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to murder someone over.

*The HOUSEKEEPER maintains domestic order, in order to liberate men to pursue their passions and vices.

*The TEMPTRESS offers the hollow promise of sexual gratification, an offer the detective often refuses (for - contrary to popular media depiction - to enjoy and want sex is not the same thing as being a slave to it).

*The MOTHER, the second most important character, is always a borderline sinister character, as the man feels both affection and duty towards her but nevertheless wishes to escape her influence to become his own man.

*The LIGHTHOUSE, the most important of all characters, is the ‘woman upon a pedestal.� The Platonic Ideal. The LIGHTHOUSE is never just a person. She’s an idea. And ideas are worth killing over.

The lighthouse is the heart of every noir and the greatest, final statement of a given work is the truth of her: Does she turn out to be a murderess? Does she turn out to be true? Or does she perish, destroyed by the machinations of this corrupt, stormy world?

Before I enter spoiler territory in answering this question, lemme first give a quick review for those who want to avoid spoilers:

For me, Raymond Chandler’s noir is the benchmark against which I weigh every other noir. And, so far, every other author has fallen short. Not only does Raymond Chandler’s novels have sharp dialogue, good crime writing, and great character, they have devastating wit and are, at times, beautiful - indeed transformative.

As an example, there’s one line in Chandler’s Farewell, my Lovely that describes a woman’s face: “It was pretty � Yet it was a very ordinary face and its prettiness was strictly assembly line.� Strictly assembly line! Genius.

This line (and this is just one example of many) has gotten inside me - I’ve been incepted by it, if you will. It’s gotten where, when I look at actresses and actors and models, the supposed pinnacle of beauty in the world, all I can think is “well that’s just strictly assembly line.� This blandly symmetric, blemish-free, carefully cultivated face. Eugh. By contrast, my appreciation for the skew and flaw in normal people’s faces has grown. Now I see beauty in these home-grown faces. They’re not assembly line. They’re unique and interesting. Because of that one line, the beauty I find in the world has multiplied, as I’ve shirked the chains of society & evolution’s standards of beauty. So, yes, transformative.

Unfortunately, there’s no such wit, no such transformative beautiful writing in The Chill. I am utterly flabbergasted by claims to the contrary. What? Where?

That said, this book is blemish-free. It is without flaw. In fact, I read The Chill after a novel that was a bit of a descriptive hell. This book is not. It is dialogue. Period. And I appreciated that. It was a straight-forward read which tickled my inner detective without taxing my patience for excess verbiage. It really is to Ross MacDonald’s credit that so intricate a plot doesn’t feel the least bit confusing. MacDonald is, if nothing else, a smooth writer.

Plot-wise, The Chill tells the story of the detective Archer Lew being hired by a newly married man to track down his newly vanished wife. There’s a murder, as indeed there must be, and down the rabbit hole we go, into the interweaving of two cases, involving a cast of an ex-convict, an overprotective(?) shrink, a retired detective, a university dean and his overprotective mother, and several other of your usual suspects.

So for those who reading this review for a recommendation, I’ll say this: Chandler is better. Hammett is better. Crumley is better. Hell, the Altered Carbon future noir series is better. I’d recommend ALL of those first. And that might be damning by faint praise - but Ross Macdonald knows his business. Everything in here is absolutely solid. It really is without flaw� it’s just it’s also without risk either. It’s about as formulaic as you can get, which isn’t a bad thing, if you like the formula.

****SPOILER ALERT: WHAT FOLLOWS IS SPOILER*

Now, for those who have already read The Chill - or simply interesting in a little deeper analysis, let’s get into how the women characters shape up:

Helen Haggerty is the TEMPTRESS, for sure. She very obviously attempts to seduce Archer, so that he might protect her. Interestingly enough, it is Archer’s refusal to do so that results in her being killed - and it is his guilt about this which compels him to find the truth. I find this fascinating, as it suggests Archer’s sin was not sleeping with her, in an inversion of Judeo-Christian principles (and horror/slasher genre tropes, as well - which is equally amusing, the idea that Christian principles and slasher tropes are like brother and sister).

Alice Jenks is much in the vein of a HOUSEKEEPER. It’s all business to her, which I find an interesting commentary on the nature of pragmatism vs emotion. I think, while female romances tend to skew more towards the emotional and masculine romances more toward the pragmatic, they both suggest you have to walk a middle line between them when it comes to relationship. You can’t be without emotion, but neither can you fully indulge emotion. It’s not at all surprising that Alice Jenks is a lonely character, who especially resents the strong emotions of others.

Laura Sutherland is quite obviously Roy’s LIGHTHOUSE - she represents his escape from his current life. She’s a sad character, really, being given recycled poems and letters. I’m minded of a joke Bill Maher once made about the way men view women: “There’s only two types of women. Old. And new.� In this respect, she’s simply the new one for Roy which is, apparently, enough for him to die over - but then dying was also the escape he really yearned for.

Dolly Kinkaid, Alex’s new wife, is the more traditional LIGHTHOUSE of the novel. She represents, to Alex, a new purpose in his life and when confronted with remaining a boy (and returning home with his father) and becoming a man, he ultimately chooses to become a man. So he really goes to bat for her� and his faith is rewarded. She wasn’t a murderess, she was a victim. In the noir novel, this is as about a happy ending as you can hope for, which gives The Chill a rather optimistic feel overall.

Mrs. Bradshaw (Letitia) I saved for last because she is definitely the star of the show, despite not being the LIGHTHOUSE. Rather she is the MOTHER and, as usual, contains an element of Oedipus. In fact, Mrs. Bradshaw exactly embodies the conflict of the MOTHER: the man both loves and resents her. Roy’s desire to escape from her, to become his own person once more, leads him to ultimately commit suicide. I think this ‘twist� was deftly done, but explicitly combining the MOTHER and the WIFE is less a stroke of genius and more a flaying of the genre’s skin to reveal the skeleton underneath.

All said, I wish we had seen more of Dolly. I found it unfortunate that she’s essentially non-existent throughout much of the novel, thereby removing some of the idealism and brightness that typically makes a noir novel such a sordid affair. Without the lighthouse� it’s all just so much muck and grime, with nary a hint of brightness to refresh one's soul.