This is a very, very fine book, there is no doubt about that. However,
there is a reason that it features far more highly on mystery novel
lists than on crime ones - whilst it is exquisitely written, elegantly
plotted and thoroughly enthralling, it lacks a source of empathy.
For
me, Sam Spade, whom many consider to be the archetypal private eye
verges too much into the realms of cold, hard, woman-beating crook and
any moral compass at his core is just a little too deeply buried. The
likes of Marlowe and Archer seem to be trying to achieve that
Spade-esque hardness, but are conflicted by consciences they fail to
deny.
Don't get me wrong, I like a bad protagonist (The Killer
Inside Me - one of my favorite books) but they have to be bad-bad, or
good, and Spade is just somewhere in between inspiring neither intrigue,
shock, or emotional engagement.
However, the story, especially
considering it had little or no template to follow, is truly remarkable.
Fresh, even now, and beautifully described. There is not a dash of
monotony, nor sprig of repetition throughout its pages (despite being
originally serialized).
So what we are left with is a book that
your read because you want answers, rather than wanting the protagonist
to prevail. But it is so good at doing this, it remains a masterpiece
and a must-read.
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