1. Chandler reads like a parody of Chandler. The writing is so self-conscious.
2. The people, Marlowe and especially Moose Malloy, are comic book characters. I don't believe in 'em.
3. The racism took my breath away.
I'm going back to my man Hammett. Hammett had been a Pinkerton. He knew the mean streets and Chandler didn't. Chandler's relish for the posturing of coarse, ugly, violent men makes me feel a little queasy.
As for the racism, well, I know he's writing about a racist society, but does he really have to enjoy it so much?