The first of these was a simple calendar that listed the birthdays of various writers of note. I remember my tremendous dismay when I turned to my birthday, July 23, and discovered the name of Coventry Patmore.
If the sight of his name doesn’t start you quoting from his most famous work, Angel in the House, you’re not alone. I remember going to the library to learn more about my birthday twin. Librarians, who like psychotherapists, hear everything and can keep a secret, understood my distress as they described this poem about the embodiment of feminine perfection. They did not expect to gladden my heart. I’m sure Victorian scholars could offer more nuance and context, but suffice it to say that the angel in the house is obedient to her husband and devoted to her children. Not the kind of role model I was looking for at the time. The Angel in the House gets to be but she doesn’t get to act.
Honor. Despair. Ennui. ALCOHOL!! My kind of guy.
So every year around my birthday I spend a little time with Mr. Chandler. Several years ago, I tried a gimlet. According to Terry Lennox, Philip Marlowe’s client in The Long Goodbye, a proper gimlet is made with half gin and half Rose’s Lime Juice. I don’t know if my gimlet was made using that recipe, but it was uninspiring. I returned to the world of the Rob Roy and the vodka martini.
I’ve never lost my taste for Chandler’s prose. This is Terry Lennox’s paean to the perfect moment in a bar:
‘I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth. I like the neat bottles on the bar back and the lovely shining glasses and the anticipation. I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and pull the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar—that’s wonderful.’
Happy Birthday, Raymond Chandler (a few days late)
Stephanie Patterson
*NB: If you go to youtube you can hear Ian Fleming interviewing Raymond Chandler. Some of it is hard to hear, but it’s well worth a listen.
Steph, this was fun to read! After I finished it, it occurred to me how much we have all chimed in the last week or so on the topic of drinks! As if we were all soused sots panting at the bar waiting for the next shot!!! When, the truth is, we all look, from our mug shots, like proper, righteous, god-fearing, upright citizens of our towns and neighborhoods, ready to help old ladies and gents across the street, give dimes to the panhandlers and rescue little puppies! I guess, after those good deeds, we all get thirsty and find ourselves on the cozy bar stool eagerly eying the next blood tango, martini, or gimlet!! Now don't get your knickers in a twist, folks, I try to see the funny side of life - if we took the news about the whistle-blowers, the tweeted undies, even the tax frauds to heart - we'd be up in that big blue yonder! tjs
ReplyDeleteYes, Thelma, I have noticed that we have been talking about a lot about alcohol lately. I just thought I'd chime in. It seems that detectives these days prefer latte and they don't seem the least bit jittery.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for the the allusion to "Carlos Danger." As Gail Collins said recently in The Times it's the "Weiner-Spitzer summer"
Steph
Harold, my household expert on alcohol, has looked into the undrinkable gimlet issue and discovered that in the days when Raymond Chandler was knocking back gimlets there was such a thing as Rose's Lime Liqueur, not the same thing as the Rose's Lime Juice we all know and keep in our refrigerators. It made rather a tastier drink when mixed one-to-one with gin than the lime juice does.
ReplyDeleteHarold's service to this blog on the subject of cocktails is GREATLY appreciated. Cheers, Harold!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Harold! Because of your knowledge I can avoid futility and disappointment. ( at least in this one area).
ReplyDeleteSteph
Just to throw in another thought, folks, there is nothing on god's green earth like a swig of white lightning! From a tin can or a milk bottle. I tried it in the hills of Tennessee... If you really want to get the spirit and write like the giants! Of course, you might never get up off the ground. tjs
ReplyDeleteMy father brought wood alcohol home once when we lived in Memphis. He had few paternal instincts, but he wouldn't let my teenage self near the stuff.
ReplyDeleteSteph