POODLE SPRINGS <i> by Raymond Chandler & Robert B. Parker (Berkley: $4.95)</i>

When Raymond Chandler died in 1959, he left the first four chapters of this unfinished Philip Marlowe novel--which Robert Parker uses as a sort of prologue to his own novel, a so-so pastiche that has little to do with Chandler’s style or characters. Although he tucks in references to Los Angeles streets like favors at a child’s birthday party, Parker fails to convey any real sense of place--or time. It’s never clear whether this tale of blackmail, murder and bigamy among the very rich is supposed to be unfolding in 1959 or 1989. More significantly, Parker lacks Chandler’s flair for the memorable turn of phrase. The result is a feeble exercise in literary grave-robbing, about on a par with the various attempts to “continue” the adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The evil that men do may live after them, but “Poodle Springs” suggests that the good writing is oft interred with their bones.