The Maltese Falcon is masterfully written (though dated in terms of certain stereotypes and attitudes to the extent that the edition I purchased contained a disclaimer from the publisher to that effect). It’s written in what has been called Third Person Cinematic point of view (POV), or Third Person Camera, or Over-the-Shoulder POV. This means that we rarely (almost never) have access to any of the characters’ thoughts or feelings, rather like watching a TV show or movie (one without narration).
I can’t recall ever having read another book from this point-of-view. It’s not one readers encounter often. We’re used to having access to the interior mental life of the characters we read about. Some people might be put off by the lack of access to the characters’ thoughts, but it didn’t bother me at all. Instead, it had the effect of drawing me deeper into the story.
Sam Spade makes for a compelling hero. He is arguably more compelling because we don’t know what he’s thinking. We can only guess at his thoughts via Hammett’s description of his actions, his expressions, his movements, and the reactions of those around him. Being forced to guess like this (rather than being told) draws us further into the story. We can’t help but become engaged, trying to figure out what’s going on.
We find ourselves mixed up in a complex mystery alongside Spade as he tries to discern everyone’s motives and understand just what the hell is going on. Spade is often a few steps ahead of the reader but, because we don’t have access to his thoughts, we never know this until he speaks and reveals what he’s figured out a few pages earlier. This is another advantage of the cinematic POV: it allows the author to hold off revealing critical information until the most dramatic time to reveal it (with access to Spade’s thoughts it would have been impossible, or at the very least clumsy, to conceal certain plot points).
Because I’d seen the movie version (albeit years ago) and am so familiar with Humphrey Bogart (I love Casablanca and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre) I couldn’t help but picture Bogart uttering all the classic lines as I encountered them, such as “There’s got to be a fall guy!” and “What do you want me to do? Learn to stutter?”
Be warned that the depiction of Joel Cairo (played by Peter Lorre in the film version) is not a flattering portrayal of a gay man, and other characters use some dated, objectionable language referring to him.
That caveat aside, I found The Maltese Falcon a short, gripping read likely to please fans of mysteries and just plain well-written fiction.
