Jules is married, has a very peaceful family life, smokes a pipe, like good food and drink moderately, and maybe a few pounds leftover. Jules is patient, tough, likes to sniff, observe, perhaps because he works in the criminal police for a lot of time. A case for him as a good stew prepared by his wife, waiting patiently for the moment, the right doneness, neither more nor less, is at the time when it is ready for resolution and their apparent passivity becomes relentless determination. Maybe for It exasperated his colleagues with his patience, some say, for a case that does nothing but pipe smoking and drinking beer (or calvados). But he notes, always alert, details, circumstances, but mostly observe people, try to put in place, think what they think, try to understand the motivations for their actions, in fact, quite often, the criminal has seen him as a confessor, even someone who could understand and perhaps you understand the reasons for his crime. But Jules hates evil, evil, deliberate, free, in that is inflexible, and therefore, in each case that is presented is intended to reach the final, reaching the ultimate motivations, to what makes possible, perhaps ending with the patience of all but his. They say they know to weigh in for good measure human weaknesses, I agree, he also has, although most of the time often end in quiet states of drunken stupor or gastronomic. A true hound, always ready to sniff the dam, even if it means spending hours sitting on the terrace of a cafe, drinking beer, or enjoy dishes made of the place, always work, of course.
Philip works alone and lives alone, just play chess. You only have one good suit and a bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer, and a handful memories, more bad than good-kept haphazardly everywhere. Yet, Phil is a man of honor, whatever that means in the environments which often move: sordid seedy slums and luxurious mansions of Los Angeles, both places where the abject is transformed with tinsel good girl drunk or stained clothes. Yes, Phil has values, it is true that they are their own, also has a long list of outstanding bills, mostly to himself, perhaps because it does not care too much for money, although it is usually required to pay rent his office. Phil is tall and strongly built, smoke and sometimes drink too. Works in an office de Hollywod Boulevard, no tiene secretaria, no tiene contestador, tiene una mesa, un par de sillas, un teléfono, un fichero y una percha, y su nombre está garbado en una puerta de cristal esmerilado. A veces se pasa el día entero sentado en su mesa reproduciendo partidas de ajedrez, a veces se pasa el día vagando por las calles. Por las noches llega a su casa, igual de escueta que su oficina, a veces bebe una copa, a veces lee algo de Proust o Stendal, pero la mayoría de las veces se acuesta cansado en una cama arrugada que no ha tenido tiempo de hacer. A Phil le gustan las mujeres, pero sale con muy pocas, a demás en no pocas veces se ha enamorado de la mujer equivocada, algunas de ellas están en chirona y tuvo que ser él who deal with the matter, but Phil is an honest guy, do not mix love with work, so they may be alone. Phil also has friends, a few, some of them have lied, some of them betrayed him, Phil is not very spiteful, but he can remember. Phil always comes to the end of the cases that deal, pursues the truth, because, because you know what to do, despite often being alone in the search, that nobody cares except him, and that at times has been some unpleasant surprises may therefore not have too many clients, but always end up looking.
And I, who do I stay? "Jules Maigret and Philip Marlowe? Difficult choice, at least for me. But since I have to get wet, I will decide and how the old Parisian commissioner will not be angry too, I'll Marlowe is the one most like me, do not know whether fortunately or unfortunately. In others, would kill even be able to write some of the dialogue-carved in granite, with whom Raymond Chandler sculpts his stories:
- Have you drunk?
-only Chanel No. 5, kisses, glitter off beautiful legs and mocking invitation dark blue eyes. Things like the innocent.
Chandler, The Little Sister.
Valencia, Monday 26 March. It seems that bad weather again. These are the throes of winter, dying. Pirx seems to have gone completely mad, has gone off to Las Vegas going to end badly. Above I have stolen money and a couple of books.
Mr. Black spoke (or bark) to an audience of shareholders complacent. Maybe things are not quite right, or effects of old age? Assignment: reread King Lear. Illustrative.
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