Another book that
I bought as second-hand despite the fact that I don’t think anyone had ever
opened it (seriously, people these days can’t even read a short Hammett
novel?!?).
While the years
have led me to think that Raymond Chandler was maybe overrated (I still can’t
get over the fact that Marlowe is a first-person narrator who finds all his
one-liners extremely witty), I actually do think that Hammett was probably a
really good writer (and dare I say it, the book version of The Maltese Falcon is probably better than its movie adaptation).
I’m not going to
say that this is a masterpiece, because it’s probably not, but it does remain a
very pleasant read after all these years – and Sam Spade is someone I’d like to
get to know much more than Philip Marlowe (despite the fact that in my mind
they both have Humphrey Bogart’s face, clearly!)
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