Traveling back through time: Farewell, My Lovely, by Raymond Chandler

9780394758275
Vintage Crime/Black Lizard, 1992
originally published in 1940
292 pp

paperback

"Such murderers are very dangerous. They have to be removed -- sometimes with blackjacks." 

After reading two of his novels now, I'm beginning to like Raymond Chandler much more for his writing than for his plots.  For anyone who thinks crime fiction has no place in the literary world, the Marlowe novels might make you change your mind.  Chandler's an amazing writer when it comes to social commentary,  the similes, metaphors and the sharp, electric prose he's famous for,  and of course, his superb depiction of the city of angels of the 1940s that is so lifelike you almost feel that you're along with him for the ride. The novels are also a way for Chandler to examine American society of the time.

After a case to locate a missing husband fizzles, Marlowe is watching a "big man but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a beer truck" staring at a building on Central Avenue. On this "not the quietest dressed street in the world," the big man is wearing a particularly gaudy outfit, looking "about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food."  The man, whose name turns out to be Moose Malloy, recently released from prison, goes into the building, a "second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's." Marlowe, curious after watching someone else get thrown out of the building, follows and goes into the building, where Malloy makes him go into the place with him. Malloy is  trying to find his girlfriend Velma, who used to be a singer at the place years earlier -- now the place has changed hands along with clientele. After shooting the manager of the place, Malloy takes off leaving Marlowe to deal with a lazy cop named McNulty who needs "a little credit" in the department -- he wants Marlowe to "take a gander around for this dame." Marlowe's interested and notes that

"Nothing made it my business except curiosity. But strictly speaking, I hadn't any business in a month. Even a no-charge job was a change."

Yet, it isn't long until he does get a paying job, from a guy by the name of Lindsay Marriott, who supposedly picked his name out of a phone book needing a bodyguard.  Things go terribly wrong when Marriott is murdered, leaving Marlowe to get the bottom of who killed him and why. His quest to find Velma and to find out who offed Marriott takes him on a meandering trail through the city, leading him to an alcoholic woman with a very nosey neighbor, a fake swami, a older millionaire and his much younger  wife, some very corrupt cops, blackmail, theft, and an offshore gambling operation run by a man whose power and money can buy a city mayor.  

While I am not much of an analyst when it comes to reading -- a) there are a huge number of analyses of Chandler and his writing all over the place and b) I'm just not good at it so don't pretend to be -- one thing I particularly noticed in my reading was Chandler's use of the color red. To me, where ever Chandler focused on mentioning red, some kind of danger -- emotional or physical -- was nearby.  Velma, Malloy's old sweetheart, was a redhead. Anne Riordan, daughter of an ex-police chief and an ally of Marlowe's in this book, is also a redhead.  He likes her enough to keep some of the worst details from her and finds himself thinking about how her apartment would be a "nice room to wear slippers in."  He watches a red neon light flashing in the hotel room where he stays just before getting on the water taxi to go out to the gambling boat.  He meets ex-cop and boat driver Red Noorgan, with "hair the shade of red that glints with gold," who has "Violet eyes. Almost purple. Eyes like a girl, a lovely girl," with skin Marlowe describes as "soft as silk" and a voice that was "soft, dreamy, so delicate for a big man that it was startling. It made me think of another soft-voiced big man I had strangely liked."  There are likely more instances, but I found the use of red quite interesting here.

The mystery plots that eventually tie together are a little clunky, but I loved this novel and I wish I had read these books long before now.  The writing alone is worth working through the convoluted  plotlines, but most of all  I love the character of Marlowe. As I found in The Big Sleep, he's a knight of sorts in a city where knights don't really have a place -- and I really like that about him.  FYI -- this book was written in the 1940s so you're going to encounter some pretty ugly racial slurs and racist attitudes as you read. That sort of stuff is a bit shocking, but considering the times, not so unusual for back then.

definitely recommended -- now on to the third Marlowe novel.

Traveling back through time: The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler

9780394758282
Vintage Crime/Black Lizard, 1992
originally published in 1939
231 pp


paperback

"Knights had no meaning in this game. It wasn't a game for knights." 

While I'm patiently waiting for my next installment of crime novels from the UK, I decided to peruse my shelves for something I haven't read yet and came up with this book.   The Big Sleep is Chandler's first Philip Marlowe novel and if the first book of this series is any indicator, I'm going to have a lovely time over the next few weeks with the rest.  As I often say, just because a book was written decades earlier doesn't mean it's not still good. 


Marlowe is a $25 dollar-a-day plus-expenses private eye living and working in the Los Angeles area.  He once worked for the DA as an investigator, but according to Marlowe, they fired him for insubordination, something on which  he tests "very high." He's been to college, lives in a small apartment, furnished with very little except "a few books, pictures, radio, chessmen, old letters, stuff like that,"  things that "took the place of a family."  He keeps rye in his coat pocket along with his gun and has a decent enough relationship with the DA's office even though he no longer works there.

the poster for the 1946 movie starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.

The Big Sleep begins as Marlowe arrives at the Sternwood home, summoned there by the family patriarch, the General.  They meet in the Sternwood's steamy greenhouse, where the old man, confined to a wheelchair, reveals the reason for Marlowe's visit. It seems that Sternwood's younger daughter Carmen has racked up some debts and now they're being called in. It's blackmail, but the General doesn't want to go to the police. He wants Marlowe to take care of things.  While they're talking, the General brings up the disappearance of his son-in-law Rusty Regan, former bootlegger and formerly of the IRA, once married to older daughter Vivian, and now missing. He doesn't ask Marlowe to find Regan, but as it turns out, Regan is never far from anyone's mind in this  novel. The trail to the blackmailer begins at a store owned by Arthur Geiger, Rare Books and De Luxe Editions, where it doesn't take long for Marlowe to figure out exactly what sort of books Geiger has to offer.  Parked outside the Geiger home later that night, Marlowe hears shots and then the sound of someone running, so he breaks in and discovers Geiger dead on the floor and a drug-addled Carmen Sternwood buck naked after having had photos taken of her.  Add to this scenario a car that had done an end run over the Lido Pier and pulled out of the water by police the next day, and we're off on a true, hardboiled adventure that doesn't let up until the last page.

Marlowe is an interesting character. He can be tough as nails, not afraid to use violence when necessary, and women make him "sick" --  in fact, he says he's unmarried because he doesn't like policemen's wives. At the same time, there's a philosopher in this man, who is a keen observer of and comprehends even the smallest nuances of  human nature. Irony leads him to come up with similes that are so cool you can really picture them in the mind's eye -- for example this one:

"The General spoke again, slowly, using his strength as carefully as an out-of-work show-girl uses her last good pair of stockings."

From the outset you get the impression that Marlowe's going to be some kind of knight-like character, coming to the rescue of damsels in distress:

"Over the entrance doors, which would have let in a troop of Indian elephants, there was a broad stained-glass panel showing a knight in dark armor rescuing a lady who was tied to a tree an didn't have any clothes on but some very long and convenient hair. The knight had pushed the vizor of his helmet back to be sociable, and he was fiddling with the knots on the ropes that tied the lady to the tree and not getting anywhere. I stood there and thought that if I lived in the house, I would sooner or later have to climb up there and help him. He didn't seem to be really trying."

 He's very much into protecting his clients and doesn't give in to the whole money/corruption scene like a lot of the cops who offer protection for a cost. He's a bit of an idealist who can't be bought. When he's not always totally honest with the police, it's all about protecting his client.  However, it's like sometimes he understands there are some women who don't want to be rescued no matter how hard he tries, and that no matter what, he  realizes that the only way he can keep certain things from the General is to  become a "part of the nastiness" he's fallen into.

The Big Sleep, if you haven't read it, may seem a bit old-fashioned and misogynist -- lots of bad treatment of women, plenty of homophobia etc., but remember that this was written at a different time when those things were pretty much the status quo.  If you can get past the negatives, the novel is superb -- one of those books where when it's over, you can't wait to pick up the next in the series. It's the character of Marlowe that makes this book so good, and then, of course, there's Chandler's incredible writing talent that created him and brought the streets, foothills and people of  Los Angeles so vividly to life like a photograph of the past.  I'm going straight onto the next one from here -- that's how much I loved this book.  Definitely recommended, although it's probably not for every crime fiction reader.  Now I'm going to go put my DVD starring Bogart and Bacall in my blu-ray player, make some popcorn and push play.

Gold, Frankincense and Dust, by Valerio Varesi

9781906694371
MacLehose Press, 2013
originally published as Oro, Incenso e Polvere, 2007
translated by Joseph Farrell

paperback (UK)

"Precariousness is the human condition."

Gold, Frankincense and Dust is the third book in the Commissario Soneri series after River of Shadows and The Dark Valley. River of Shadows was okay, and I loved The Dark Valley,  with its rich atmosphere and excellent characterizations, and I realized after reading that novel that Varesi was an author I'd watch in the future. So when I saw that this book had been published, I bought it and well, frankly, it wasn't all I'd hoped it would be. On one level, there's a really good mystery here and some well-outlined and important social issues; on another, though, it was overshadowed by way too much of Soneri's personal life to the point that it detracted my reading from the punch that the core mystery might have delivered without it.  Then again, it's a personal preference of mine to prefer edgy crime over a main character's inner angst, so it's one you absolutely have to read and decide about for yourself

Gold, Frankincense and Dust has a great opening -- Soneri is called to the scene of "one hell of a pile-up" on the autostrada, even though it's really a case for the flying squad. His expert knowledge of the Lower Po Valley is why he must go, especially because there's a heck of a fog that's settled in.  Once he arrives, there's chaos within a somewhat surreal atmosphere -- bulls are roaming around with a cow and a herd of a pigs, causing his partner, Juvara, to pose the question of whether or not they've landed in Animal Farm.  Disco music is blaring in the background at a fairground. Smoke is everywhere, adding to the fog's confusion.  As the police and firefighters arrive and start looking around, they discover a body which has been badly burned.  Soneri, despite opinions that the body must have been thrown from the car during the accident, believes that this was not the case -- that the body had been burned somewhere else and then brought to where it was found.  Through a stroke of good luck, there is a clue as to the body's identity, and it is identified as being that of a young Romanian girl named Nina Iliescu.  It doesn't take long for Soneri and his colleagues to realize that this is no ordinary woman, and that her life is filled to overflowing with secrets. Add to this  the old man who got on a bus with twenty euros and two photos and never made it to his destination alive -- and our Commissario has his hands full.  But keeping himself focused is tough for Soneri -- his personal situation with Angela has become a bit iffy, making him fearful that "loneliness lay in wait" if  she decides that he's not really the man she wants in her life. 

As in his other works, Varesi's finest talent lies in his ability to evoke atmosphere and maintain it throughout the novel.  The first scene in the fog sets the tone for the rest of the novel, as his investigations uncover a host of things that lay hidden, and not just in the life of the dead girl.   Being able to navigate in the mist in the Po Valley is one thing; trying to navigate his way through a murky personal life where he can't see the outcome is another.  He's also good at writing characters, and the mystery of the dead girl brings out people from many very different walks of life.  And then there's Soneri himself -- whom

"in every victim, ...  found the frustrations of all human affairs, and for this reason he always felt close to them."

In this book, one of the main themes running throughout the story is that of "precariousness," as revealed through Soneri's personal life and his interactions with those who live on the edge of poverty and on the margins of society.  Varesi carries this theme throughout the book and he does it well.  Unfortunately, considering everything this book has going for it, Soneri's constant worries about being a middle-aged man teetering on the brink of loneliness because of Angela's tendency to wiffle back and forth about her future  took away a lot of the fun of the crime solving.  By the time it got to the end, I really wanted this book to be over.  On a personal level, that's  tough for me to say, because I normally enjoy reading this author's work.

But then again, as I noted above, my preference leans toward edgy without much inner angst within the characters (unless it's noir, then bring it on) so my complaint about all the personal stuff interfering with the crime solving may not be something that bothers other readers.  It's a little involved for cozy readers,  and doesn't have the edge loved by readers of noir, so I'd place it within the police procedural bracket with an added middle-age crisis sideline.  And finally, although this book didn't really do it for me, I will be waiting somewhat impatiently for Varesi's next book to be published.

from France: The Dark Angel, by Dominique Sylvain

9780857052131
MacLehose Press, 2014
276 pp

originally published as Passage du Désir, 2004
translated by Nick Caistor

hardcover

Well, here's something new and different!  There's something to be said for a crime novel where one of the lead characters is a kind of crusty, overweight middle-aged woman who smokes and wears a hideous bathrobe when she's hanging out at home.  The Dark Angel is the introduction to a series (I think/hope) featuring retired Commissaire of the Paris police department Lola Jost and her very worldly, beautiful and American masseuse crime-solving partner. Ingrid Diesel.  While the mystery is pretty good, these two characters, most especially Lola, steal the show in this book.  If for no other reason, you should read this book on the basis of Lola's character alone.  Whenever she wasn't in the picture, I was eagerly awaiting her return.

Set in Paris, two roommates come home one day to discover the third girl dead. Not only has she been murdered, but her feet have been chopped off and someone has left behind a Bratz doll, the kind with the feet that come completely off the doll's body.  Any hope of forensic evidence is gone -- the vacuum cleaner, which may have contained evidence, is soaking in the bathtub. Police soon come to suspect that Maxime, the local ladies' man and restauranteur along the Passage du Désir, may have had something to do with the young woman's murder.  Enter our dynamic duo, Lola and Ingrid, who want more than anything to keep their good friend Maxime from going to jail -- so with the help of one of Lola's favorite policemen,  they do everything they can to prove his innocence. Not such an easy task: everyone, it seems, is hiding something, so getting to the truth behind the murder will be a definite challenge.

The Dark Angel is on the lighter side of crime -- not that murder's not serious, but the novel has a very uncomplicated feel to it compared to a lot of other, more intense translated crime fiction.   There are also more than a few moments of wry humor to be encountered -- especially through the character of Lola.  She steals the show in this novel -- something in her past led her to leave the force, but she is still totally on the ball when it comes to investigating.  Her policeman friend who helps the two women in their investigation is in awe of her talents and wishes she'd never retired, because she left him with an inept bumbler as a superior.  Ingrid, while full of surprises, is less big on the page, not as well rounded as Lola with her constant flow of caustic wit; however, it is perhaps the wide range of differences that allow  them to work so well together. Considering that they probably wouldn't have met otherwise, the way they take to each other makes for fun reading.   They even view Paris quite differently from each other -- understandable since Lola is French and Ingrid is viewing the city from an entirely different set of cultural lenses -- but in the long run, it's a plus because their different visions of what the streets have to offer filter through to the reader,  making the sense of place a little more 3-D than usual.

While Lola's character is off and running, I'm sure that Ingrid's character will develop more as the series proceeds; in this installment, I think the goal was just to get the two together as a sort of ad hoc investigating team.  Otherwise, the mystery itself is okay, complete with lots of red herrings and more than enough suspects to keep the reader guessing.  There are a few social issues brought out here and there is even a brief look at the plight of  Romanian children who were put into orphanages during the reign of Nicolae Ceaușescu  -- and people who think nothing of exploiting these kids. Nothing too heavy, but this topic plays a small role in the story. 

I love the combination of the two characters and their quirks; watching these two very different women working together was just plain fun.  And while I do prefer much edgier crime fiction, sometimes it's more than enough when it's all about the characters -- and that is definitely the case here. Very much recommended; a wonderful start to what I hope will be a great series. 

a most enterprising new crime author from Scotland: The Cabinetmaker, by Alan Jones

Ailsa Publishing, 2013
292 pp

Kindle version

Last month before the holidays I received an email from a writer in Scotland who wanted to know if I'd read/review his new book, The Cabinetmaker.  I bought a copy, but things got pretty hectic here as usual at Christmas, I went to California after the New Year, and then came home and proceeded to get a serious case of the flu until this week. It took me a month to get to it, so I owe the author, Alan Jones, a huge apology for taking so long. 

Before launching into the novel, though, I have to share  an article written in November that illustrates exactly how enterprising Mr. Jones really is in  getting the word out about his book.  It seems that rather than pop a few corks to celebrate, the author, along with a few others, set up a few tool benches and started making cabinets on Perth Road in Dundee.  He and his friends handed out flyers about his new book, did a little music making and dancing, and a great time was had by all.  Seriously -- if I ever get the notion to write a novel, I'd be much happier celebrating its publication the way this guy did -- no foo-foo flutes of champagne, no little trays of canapés being taken around by waitstaff -- I'm impressed.  I also love his attitude.  As quoted in the article I linked, the author says

"I'm an optimist but I've got my feet on the ground. If something comes of it then it's a bonus but it’s the satisfaction of writing it that compelled me to do it."

And now - The Cabinetmaker.

In 1978, Francis Hare lost his son Patrick when a gang of street toughs beat him severely and then left him for dead on the street.  John McDaid, "the most junior member" of the CID team at Partick Police Station, met Francis when he'd come in to check out how the investigation was going.  He was actually embarrassed when another cop gave him a cup of tea and about a paragraph's worth of explanation before sending him on his way.  McDaid felt badly about how Francis had been treated, but he's the newbie so he can't really say anything.  As time passes, though, McDaid strikes up a friendship with Francis -- both share a love of soccer and McDaid becomes fascinated with Francis' occupation: he builds beautiful, handcrafted furniture. The police have been pretty worthless when it comes to trying to pin Patrick's  murder on the street gang; but between McDaid and another cop with a heart and soul, Andy, they try to keep Francis informed.  Suddenly, though, things go very wrong for the police after they start to get "confessions" and the case goes down the toilet, leaving a father without any sort of justice for his son.  The case just sort of folds into obscurity, but suddenly picks up again in a big way  after a couple of decades go by -- and that's when things begin to get very interesting.

Considering it's a first novel, The Cabinetmaker kept me turning pages without finding a lot of the usual mistakes fledgling writers often make.  Let's do away with the niggles first, shall we? While I can appreciate a) that the author wants us to view McDaid as person outside of being a cop, and b) his own personal love of his craft (go back to the link where he's building cabinets on the streets of Dundee) the many pages featuring soccer and cabinetmaking often (imho) went on too long, sort of detracting from the tension.   At the same time, he's in fine company here -- I felt exactly the same way about the ongoing furniture-building scenes in Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch.  On to what I really liked about this book: the twists.  Just when you think you know everything, something happens that causes you to change gears midstream and rewire your brain to try to refigure it all, until another twist or two or three hits and well, I can't really say  more or I'll give it away.  Suffice it to say that armchair detectives like myself will find the book's plot and its unraveling  intriguing.

While this book's main focus is on justice, it is also a good police procedural where  things change in the police departments over time, from  the  late 70s and  the same sort of cops you'd find in David Peace's The Red Riding Quartet, on into the 21st century where things have become much different. It's a book well worth reading, and I do hope people will take notice and this book will do well so I can look forward to reading something more by Alan Jones. And it's less than four dollars on Amazon right now! I've become even more picky in my crime reads than normal lately, hence the long hiatus between posts -- but I wouldn't hesitate to read anything this author might write.  Definitely recommended.

another indie -- and it's a good one: Pilgrim Soul, by Gordon Ferris

9780857897626
Corvus/Atlantic Books, 2013
383 pp

paper -- my sincere thanks to Shannon for my copy

First - an apology to Shannon who sent me this book a while back.  I had my nose stuck in Eleanor Catton's delightful but very long The Luminaries and had to put Pilgrim Soul on the back burner for the duration.

Reading indie crime fiction can be iffy at times, but this one I really liked.  It's book number three in a series, and it also overlaps with another series the author wrote that features one of the characters, a friend of the main character.  Pilgrim Soul is set in Glasgow in 1947, during an incredibly cold winter; it was so bad that a train was robbed of its cargo of coal and people were using church pews for firewood.  The lead protagonist is Douglas Brodie, former cop, not so long out of the army and now a crime reporter for a newspaper.  The action starts when Brodie is visited by a group of four men, all Jewish, who report that homes in their community are being broken into.  Brodie decides that the way to track down the culprit is to "follow the loot," and what he discovers sets off a chain reaction of deaths and launches Brodie back to a place he'd rather not be, as the crimes seem to be related to the concentration camps.  Brodie, as it turns out, had witnessed firsthand some of the horrors of the Holocaust, serving as an interrogator of war criminals in Germany, and has since spent a great deal of time trying to forget.  Now his past returns with a vengeance, and it just may be that he's gotten in way over his head.

While plotting, core mystery and the unraveling of it all are done very well, what I really enjoyed about this book was how the author locates his novel perfectly in time and place. Two years into the postwar period, the Holocaust has left a lot of Jewish people wanting to go to what will eventually become Israel a year later, and in the meantime, certain groups exists who believe the only way to get what they want is through terror. The Holocaust has also left its mark on non-Jews like Brodie, who suffers from what we now call PTSD after the horrors he witnessed in the camps and the testimonies he'd heard as an interrogator.  And while the Nazi war crime trials are still going on, behind the scenes some of the intelligence services are working on preparing for the emerging new enemy, Stalin and the Soviets.  And one more thing -- I'm always on guard against frivolous use of the Holocaust as a backdrop in a novel; here I needn't have worried.

This series sounds like one I'd like to start from the beginning, but this one is easily read as a standalone.  Perhaps it's a bit too much for cozy readers; police procedural people would probably like it, fans of UK crime fiction will like it, as will people who enjoy historical fiction.  It's not noirish but at the same time time, the novel does have a bit of an edge, which I always look for when I read crime. In short - I really liked this one.

traveling back through time: *The Dain Curse, by Dashiell Hammett

9780679722601
Vintage Crime/Random House, 1989
originally published 1929
231 pp

paperback

There's something very positive to be said about these old novels; this one was written in 1928 and still has a lot of power to entertain. According to one website I visited for background on this book, The Dain Curse first made its appearance in Black Mask magazine as a serial released between October 1928 and January 1929; it was his second Continental Op story after Red Harvest.  It may not be Hammett's best, but I still had a lot of fun with it. I mean, seriously -- you have a whacked-out bunch of people involved in a crazy cult, a wealthy drug-addicted, simpering heroine who just might be the victim of a curse, an old house by the sea, a man hiding a secret identity, and of course, a number of murders.

Set in San Francisco, Hammett's unnamed detective, known to readers only as "The Continental Op," is tasked by his company to investigate the reported theft of some diamonds. The diamonds were in the possession of Edgar Leggett when they were stolen; Leggett's daughter Gabrielle may have been a witness.  From the getgo, the detective believes it was an inside job, and the opening stages of the investigation lead him to the Temple of the Holy Grail, "the fashionable one just now" run by one of Leggett's friends and frequented by Gabrielle. It's a place where "the right sort of people" go, not a "Holy Roller or House of David sort of thing."  After a spending a night in the temple that he'll never forget, one that ends in death,  the case moves the Op  to a small seaside town where he immediately discovers another yet another body, eventually coming to the realization that he's been pitted against a madman.

an earlier cover of The Dain Curse

The Dain Curse is twisty, and lots of people die in this story before the killer is discovered,  making the crime portion of this book good reading. It isn't as hardboiled as I would have imagined, after reading some of his later novels,  but this work was written still quite early in Hammett's career.  If you read this novel slowly, you'll also discover that Hammett , via the character of Fitzstephan who writes cheesy novels, seems to be comparing and contrasting the work of a detective (Hammett's earlier, pre-writing occupation) and the work of a writer. If you think about that idea for a moment, it adds a reflective layer to this book that takes it beyond just another crime novel.  For example, the two (Fitzstephan and the Op) first meet when the detective was working on a case about phony mediums who had fleeced a woman for a hundred thousand dollars.  He was "digging dirt," and Fitzstephan was "plowing the same field for literary material."  When they meet up again in San Francisco, and Fitzstephan asks him about what a particular person has been up to, the Op notes that

"We don't do it that way...You're a storywriter. I can't trust you not to build up on what I tell you. I'll save mine till after you've spoken your piece, so yours won't be twisted to fit mine."

and then later, in a discussion about how Fitzstephan's business is "with souls and what goes on in them," they have the following exchange, beginning with Fitzstephan:

"Are you -- who make your living snooping -- sneering at my curiosity about people and my attempts to satisfy it?"

"We're different...I do mine with the object of putting people in jail, and I get paid for it, though not as much as I should."

"That's not different...I do mine with the object of putting people in books, and I get paid for it, though not as much as I should."

Yet while these scenes scattered here and there throughout the novel are interesting, the focus is really on the crimes and how the Continental Op arrives at the solution -- and it's a ride that is beyond crazy.

Another thing to point out is that this book is filled with racist remarks; not that I condone them but they are a product of the times in which this book was written so keep that in mind as you read.   Definitely recommended for those who enjoy vintage crime; cozy readers and strictly police-procedural fans probably wouldn't enjoy it as much.  Now I'm going to go back and read Red Harvest ... then make my way through the rest of Hammett's novels that I've missed.