Название книги: Король в желтом Чэндлер Раймонд
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О книге «Король в желтом Чэндлер Раймонд»
Composed during the “Yellow 90’s,” the last decade of Queen Victoria’s reign, the book is part and parcel of the literary decadent movement spearheaded by Oscar Wilde and his infamous play, .
Yellow was used to celebrate the “decadence” that marked the lives of the artists of the time and was symbolically tied to the free sex and homosexuality that were morally and legally frowned upon by the society and authorities of the period.
Though Chambers eventually went on to fame and fortune as the Sydney Sheldon of his day, it is only this first book with its subtle, existential dread and creeping horror that is remembered today.
In an interesting sidenote, Raymond Chandler wrote a short story featuring his famed private detective Philip Marlowe called Investigating the death of a jazz musician clad in yellow silk pajamas, Marlowe describes the dead body as reminding him of a book he once read. Lovecraft, I have had a lifelong love for this book by Robert W.
Whilst most likely Chandler was just referring to the book by Chambers, I like to think that the reason for Marlowe’s blasted cynicism and world-weariness originates from his once having read the blasphemous play . Chambers and was beyond excited and intrigued when his cosmology was being referenced in this new fantastic television show.
He lay on his side dreamy-eyed and listened to the radio two yards away from him. He was a long black-haired man, about twenty-eight, with deep-set silent eyes and a rather gentle mouth. Back and forth in front of them, strutting, trucking, preening herself like a magpie, arching her arms and her eyebrows, bending her fingers back until the carmine nails almost touched her arms, a metallic blonde swayed and went to town on the music. "If you want trouble," he said, "I come from where they make it." Leopardi smiled, thinly, tautly, and his right hand came up out of the suitcase with a gun in it. Steve took hold of the wrist behind the punch and twisted that and the bandleader went down on his knees yowling. Then he was just a trumpet player in Vane Utigore's band-a cheap outfit." The girl curled her lip, went past him and sat down by the window again. I need sleep." Steve said: "Good
Just relax." He rounded a corner and the hot music almost took him off his feet. He picked the blonde bodily off the floor and dumped her on the bed and covered both girls to the chin. Its number was 815, two doors from the room the girls were in. You're clean." The big man didn't look at his fingers. There was sweat on his lower lips, in the black stubble of his beard. Hold the line, pal." Another voice now-lazy, with the faintest color of Irish in it. Eight hundred feet below, what was left of a gray sedan lay silent and crumpled in the morning sunshine.