San Francisco reeks of moral ambiguity in The Maltese Falcon. Samuel Spade is crooked, harsh with ladies, sleeps with his partner's wife, and has no problem breaking or bending the law when it fits him. In this narrative, everyone is double-crossing everyone else in order to find a priceless Maltese falcon that somehow ended up in San Francisco after a heist in Constantinople. However, as a reader raised by Agatha Christie's Poirot, Mosley's Easy Rawlins and, of course, Sherlock Holmes, adjusting to Sam Spade and the morally corrupted detectives like him takes some adjustment. Hammett's writing style could be a bit awkward, too, although it's perfect how he never explains the interior thoughts of the characters, allowing them to keep their secrets until everything comes to a shattering resolution in the final chapter. This novel has everything: suspense, intrigue, femme fatale, San Francisco at dark, conflicts with law enforcement, murder, and a lost treasure. The novel seems to be a commentary on the thin line between the detective and the social forces he, at best, is supposed to allay. But, is someone like Sam Spade truly any better than Gutman, Cairo, Brigid or Thursby? Perhaps he is a necessary evil, since he is ultimately the one who tracks down the murderer of Miles Archer.
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