The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell HammettMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
3.5 stars?
Would you believe that reading this book answered questions that I have had for almost 40 years? It was the early 1980s and I was attempting to see all of Humphrey Bogart's movies. Even then, I liked to have a project and a list. There was a scruffy old theatre where we went to see these films, and they were literally films with the photos on plastic film reels. The movie was building to its conclusion when the inevitable happened and the plastic film snapped. The break was too close to the end of the film, preventing the projectionist from splicing it back together to finish up. No conclusion for me. But I can't have been too scarred by it, as I never worried about getting the final say until 2021.
I can see why this book was chosen as the basis of a movie. Lots of action, conflict, subterfuge, back stabbing, sex, and a mysterious artifact. Sam Spade is honourable on his own terms, but he doesn't let mere emotion stand between himself and the solution to the mystery. I don't often venture into the hard-boiled genre, but this is a classic. Hammett is a competent writer, giving us a good yarn and plenty of clues to figure out what's going on. As friends had warned me, his writing is not nearly as pretty as Raymond Chandler's, a shame but really how many people can claim to equal him?
Hammett was born in May, so this is my May birthday book for the (Mostly) Dead Writers Society. I'll return to Chandler in July for the same purpose. Very nice noir.
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