Book #660

Reviewer: Ms Oh Waily

And finally we reach the last remaining Dashiell Hammett novel on the 1001 list. I can say, categorically, that I have enjoyed each and every one of them despite the great variance of topic and tale telling.
If you have missed them, I reviewed The Thin Man back in March and have completed the remaining three this month.  That would be Red Harvest, The Glass Key and today’s review of The Maltese Falcon.

Samuel Spade and the story of the Maltese Falcon is arguably Hammett’s best known work. It certainly was to me, with The Thin Man a distant second.  That could be a result of an earlier obsession with Humphrey Bogart films, of course, including the 1941 rendition of this story.

We meet Sam and his partner, Miles Archer, in their offices in San Francisco.  A young woman, Miss Wonderly, comes to hire them to follow a man who has supposedly run off with her younger sister.  The money is good, so they take her on.  Miles, with an eye to the pretty lady, says he will do it for her and does so.  Spade, on the other hand, thinks she looks like trouble.

Later that night Spade is rung by the police and told that Archer has been shot.  He goes down to the scene, but appears disinterested.  As the story progresses, it is clear that he is not fond of Archer and has been playing around with his wife, but he feels he owes it to his partner to find out the truth about his death.
Spade is not a particularly likeable character, is quite loose with the women in his life, but is smart, cunning and determined.  Hammett’s description of him is quite telling of his character.

Samuel Spade’s jaw was long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth.  His nostrils curved back to make another, smaller, v.  His yellow-grey eyes were horizontal.  The v motif was picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his pale brown hair grew down – from high flat temples – in a point on his forehead.  He looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan.

Spade ends up in the firing line from the police investigation when not only is Miles Archer murdered, but so is the man he was tailing – on the same night.
As the story progresses we find out that Miss Wonderly is not who she says she is, nor is her non-existent runaway sister real.  We find her to be Brigid O’Shaughnessy, a rather cunning liar and thief.  She also is not a particularly likeable character, especially from a modern woman’s perspective.  She sets her sights on Spade and embroils him in the cross and double-cross world of international thievery.  Along the way we meet the wonderful cast of characters that Hammett has created; Joel Cairo, Wilmer Cook and Casper Gutman are all marvellous to read and beautifully described.  I must say that although the 1941 film does not necessarily cast quite according to Hammett’s descriptions (Humphrey Bogart would need to grow another 3 or so inches to be “quite six feet tall”), they do all bring to life each of the main characters in a fair representation.  So much so that whenever I read Casper Gutman’s dialogue I continually saw and heard Sydney Greenstreet‘s voice and inflection in my head.

Unlike The Thin Man, this one’s one-liners and comebacks were relatively toned down, but Spade is still prickly and quick with his words.  In this instance he is facing down Lieutenant Dundy’s questioning over Archer’s death.

Placidity came back to Spade’s face and voice. He said reprovingly: “You know I can’t tell you that until I’ve talked it over with the client.”
“You’ll tell it to me or you’ll tell it in court,” Dundy said hotly. “This is murder and don’t you forget it.”
“Maybe. And here’s something for you to not forget, sweetheart.  I’ll tell it or not as I damned please.  It’s a long while since I burst out crying because policemen didn’t like me.”

Still the same pig-headed, gritty character as many of Hammett’s others.  But a smooth ladies man with it.  Or is that a heartless ladies man?  You need to decide.

I have thoroughly enjoyed my time travel back to the late 1920s courtesy of Dashiell Hammett and I don’t think you will be disappointed if you choose to find one or two of his works either.   The writing is good, the characters are interesting, the stories are well plotted and not obvious from start to finish.  All round easy, fun reads.  I’m rather sad that there are no more on the list.

Happy Reading everyone.

Book #655

Reviewer: Ms Oh Waily

By now it is clear that I have become a great fan of Dashiell Hammett’s work, and having a two week holiday in which to indulge myself in his works has only continued to confirm for me that his writing is not only sharp, but varied as well.  The 1931 work, The Glass Key shows this beautifully.  No private detectives to be found here, not many sardonic, funny and sharp one-liners, instead we have Ned Beaumont – gambler and best friend to local political boss (and apparent business man) Paul Madvig.

The story opens with Ned and Paul discussing politics and the Henry family -the father being a Senator whom Paul intends backing for re-election.  Paul clearly also likes the daughter and is intent on marrying her.

A little later Ned finds the body of the senator’s son a couple of blocks down the street from Paul’s club.  The death of the young man, Taylor Henry, begins to pose real problems for Paul Madvig.  His daughter, Opal, was Henry’s girlfriend and she suspects her father of murdering him because he disapproved of the relationship.  The other political faction, represented by Shad O’Rory in the novel, start to make plenty out of the non-investigation of the lad’s death (courtesy of Paul controlling the local District Attorney’s office) and this is escalated by Paul’s boots and all attitude to dealing with O’Rory.

Ned Beaumont works hard to keep the election work on target, Paul out of the electric chair, and to get his money back from a dubious bookie.  Unlike Paul, who seems to have trouble seeing too far ahead, Ned is very much the thinker of the pair.  He sees that Paul is being set up and manipulated due to his infatuation with Janet Henry (Taylor’s sister).  So he works as Paul’s ‘fixer’ and through his interactions with the various characters we build up a picture of life in the underworld and back-door, influence-peddling politics of prohibition America.
I had never come across the term ‘political boss‘ before reading this novel, so for those unfamiliar with their role in late 19th and early 20th century US politics the power and role of Paul may be somewhat confusing – and he may simply be seen as a corrupt businessman with a hand in the speakeasy workings of his city.

I enjoyed reading this story, but for different reasons to the earlier works I’ve reviewed.  Unlike Red Harvest for instance, where the story is told from the point of view of The Continental Op, here the story is told from the outside and we are never given a look at the thoughts or feelings of the characters except as they play out in their actions and words. There was less murder and mayhem, but still plenty of violence and corruption.  At one point Ned is trapped by Shad O’Rory while trying to lay his own trap.  What happens to him as a result is brutal and in keeping with Hammett’s tough, no-nonsense approach to the violent lifestyle of the underworld gangsters of the time.  Realism is king here. Having been beaten senseless and worse, Ned shows his stubbornness in this passage that typifies Hammett’s descriptive style.

Ned Beaumont was tugging at the door-knob.
The apish man said, ‘Now there, Houdini,’ and with all his weight behind the blow drove his right fist into Ned Beaumont’s face.
Ned Beaumont was driven back against the wall.  The back of his head struck the wall first, then his body crashed flat against the wall, and he slid down the wall to the floor.
Rosy-cheeked Rusty, still holding his cards at the table, said gloomily, but without emotion: ‘Jesus, Jeff, you’ll croak him.’
Jeff said: ‘Him?’ He indicated the man at his feet by kicking him not especially hard on the thigh. ‘You can’t croak him.  He’s tough. He’s a tough baby. He likes this.’  He bent down, grasped one of the unconscious man’s lapels in each hand, and dragged him to his knees. ‘Don’t you like it, baby?’ he asked and, holding Ned Beaumont up on his knees with one hand, struck his face with the other fist.

By the time you have worked your way through the initial chapters, identifying characters and who they are to each other you will be hooked enough to keep reading to find out if Paul is Taylor Henry’s murderer, and just what Ned Beaumont is all about.  In the end, I spent several hours straight reading in to the night in order to finish this one up.  It became a case of not wanting to put the book down until I had the solution to the crime, and I must say I enjoyed the entire story.

Well worth the effort and definitely deserving of a place on the list. Highly recommended reading from me.
Happy Reading everyone.

Book #664

Reviewer: Ms Oh Waily

I have been lucky enough to get hold of an omnibus of Dashiell Hammett’s work and Red Harvest was one of the novels included in it.  With uncharacteristic hours at my disposal I whipped through the 160 pages of the story in less than two days, enjoying every minute of it.  Published in book form in 1929 it is apparently based on Hammett’s own experiences working as a Pinkerton.

In Red Harvest I get to meet The Continental Op for the first time.  He is the unnamed narrator of the story and works for The Continental Detective Agency, based out of San Francisco.  He is a repeat character in Hammett’s stories and is apparently one of the first major hardboiled detectives.  He becomes something of a template from which Sam Spade and others develop.

We join the Op when he arrives in Personville to meet with Donald Willsson, a local newspaper publisher, and to receive instructions for work he wants carried out.  The locals call the town Poisonville and as we progress through the story it is quite clear why.  The Op has walked in to a town with a power struggle about to play out.  Willsson is shot dead while the Op waits to meet him, and that sets him off looking in to his death.  Willsson is the son of the industrial magnate who once ran the city but through his own making handed over much of the power to competing gangs of criminals.

The Op ends up working, sort of, for Elihu Willsson – looking in to his son’s death, and cleaning up Poisonville for him.  This allows us to follow the Op on a trip through the underbelly of the city – corrupt police, criminal gangs and all of the unsavoury behaviour they indulge in.

There is much murder, mayhem and playing of dirty tricks.  The Op clearly being a master at manipulating people and situations, some of his actions are questionable at best.  It is a brutal story, with plenty of “lead” being thrown about, snitching, gangland violence and it only escalates as the story goes on.  Remarkably, it is quite readable, with no really gruesome descriptions.  The scale of the violence is pretty damning and the Op is certainly not a saint in any sort of guise.

Hammett’s language and writing style is very easy work.  I still feel like I’m watching an old Bogart movie as I read.  Here are a couple of examples of the sort of writing that peppers the story.

Describing the hurtling of a police car through traffic, with the Op ensconced amongst officers in the back seat:

Pat twisted us around a frightened woman’s coupé, put us through a slot between street car and laundry wagon – a narrow slot that we couldn’t have slipped through if our car hadn’t been so smoothly enameled – and said :
“All right, but the brakes ain’t no good.”
“That’s nice,” the grey-moustached sleuth on my left said. He didn’t sound sincere.

Out of the centre of the city there wasn’t much traffic to bother us, but the paving was rougher.  It was a nice half-hour’s ride, with everybody getting a chance to sit in everybody else’s lap.  The last ten minutes of it was over an uneven road that had hills enough to keep us from forgetting what Pat had said about the brakes.

While trying to escape a group of gangsters following a shoot-out at a remote location:

I spread the blanket there and we settled down.
The girl leaned against me and complained that the ground was damp, that she was cold in spite of her fur coat, that she had a cramp in her leg, and that she wanted a cigarette.
I gave her another drink from the flask.  That bought me ten minutes of peace.
Then she said:
“I’m catching cold.  By the time anybody comes, if they ever do, I’ll be sneezing and coughing loud enough to be heard in the city.”
“Just once,” I told her. “Then you’ll be all strangled.”
“There’s a mouse or something crawling under the blanket.”
“Probably only a snake.”
“Are you married?”
“Don’t start that.”
“Then you are?”
“No.”
“I’ll bet your wife’s glad of it.”
I was trying to find a suitable come-back to that wise-crack when a distant light gleamed up the road.

As you can see, we’re back in to the same style and territory as The Thin Man, only this time with more violence and dubious ethics.
All up I’d say it was a good retro read.  Quick and easy; the perfect short read if you love noir and tough guy detectives.

Happy reading everyone!

Book#797

Reviewer: Ms Oh Waily

The Time Machine was first published in serial format in 1895 and was subsequently collated as a book.
This, to my embarrassment, is the very first of H.G.Wells’ works that I have read despite having seen many screen adaptations of his various stories since childhood.  It is a short work, my edition being 81 pages in total, and takes very little time to read.

The story starts with a weekly meeting of men over dinner in an unnamed scientist’s home.  Most of those attending are described by their profession.  The scientist himself is described as the Time Traveller.
The others are the narrator, who is never identified by name or profession; the Psychologist, the Provincial Mayor, the Medical Man, the Very Young Man, and a man called Filby. The discussion is about things scientific and especially the dimension of time.
One of the men states, “And you cannot move at all in Time, you cannot get away from the present moment.” To which the Time Traveller replies, “My dear sir, that is just where you are wrong. That is just where the whole world has gone wrong. We are always getting away from the present moment. Our mental existences, which are immaterial and have no dimensions, are passing along the Time Dimension with a uniform velocity from the cradle to the grave.”

As the conversation continues the Time Traveller then presents the men with a model – a metal framework containing ivory and crystal parts, the size of a small clock – which he proclaims to be his plan for a machine to travel through time. He then demonstrates it to the men, “We all saw the lever turn. I am absolutely certain there was no trickery. There was a breath of wind, and the lamp flame jumped. One of the candles on the mantel was blown out, and the little machine suddenly swung round, became indistinct, was seen as a ghost for a second, perhaps, as an eddy of faintly glittering brass and ivory; and it was gone – vanished!” After a small discussion the Time Traveller invites his guests to see the actual, full-sized, machine in his laboratory and states to the assembled group, “Upon that machine,” said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp aloft, “I intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was never more serious in my life.”

The men, unsurprisingly, are more than a little dubious of the scientist’s claims and leave for the night in varying senses of humour over the disappearing model and claims of the impending exploration of time.

The following Thursday evening the narrator travels again to Richmond and the home of the Time Traveller. By the time he arrives there are several fellows already present, the Medical Man, the Editor, the Psychologist, a quiet man and a certain journalist. The Time Traveller was absent but had left a note saying to begin without him should he not be there. Just as dinner is about to begin, in staggers a rough and tumble version of the Time Traveller, shocking those assembled. Like a good middle class Victorian, he throws back a couple of glasses of wine to revive himself and begs off to wash and dress for dinner. Upon his return he begins the remarkable tale of his journey to the future.

The journey takes him to the year 802,701 where he meets the “Eloi”, tiny and beautiful humans all alike.  He describes his experiences with the less enticing Morlocks. The story muses on the future of man and society, reflecting a late Victorian view of the rich and the poor or the upper and lower classes translated into a future decay. It also retains a measure of the adventure story about it; a brave traveller exploring new territory – in this case, the future – and despite the story aging it is still intriguing to follow the Time Traveller’s story to its end.

I found the novel to be incredibly easy to read.  Although by the end I thought perhaps he could and should have used the word “incontinently” a little less frequently. Also, naturally, over a century later many of the ideas are dated, but as an early science fiction story about time travel it is well written and certainly puts out the some initial ideas of utopia and even dystopia in the same small volume.

It is a quick and untaxing way to spend a few hours.

Happy reading!