Sharpen your fiber investigator ... come, come. If I say he is a little guy born exactly 27 May 1894, died in 1961, who made the war, which has been in trouble with the authorities of his country, huh? .. . what do you say? ... Louis-Ferdinand Céline. Yeah, not bad, just glue the indices seem revealing, but I tell you no, you are wrong.
On 27 May 1894 the two Atlantic poles were born two monsters of literature. One is called Céline and the other is obviously Dashiell Hammett. Their lifelines are incredibly lifelike, except that criticized one of being too left and the other a little too far right.
Indeed, apart from these few common points, obviously we did not quite dealing with the same man. The one before us today was a pair of absolutely enormous balls and made a thousand dangerous stuff in his life, first and foremost include the fact to declare communist witch hunt in full and systematically refusing to swing people and to find excuses, even though he had absolutely nothing wrong, just on principle, because he did not like anyone forced him to say what he did not want said.
It cost him nearly everything he owned, it has gat him his literary career, but nothing to do, it is not folded. In short, I have great admiration for the man, (except perhaps his alcoholic side very pronounced) and perhaps more to the writer.
I have often expressed my regrets to see here thrillers impeccable scenario, with all the seeds of a sublime piece of literature, unfortunately tempered or partially tempered by a weak script or style facilities.
Here, none of that, and this is making it the price to me. You are masterfully conducted briskly on the trail of a criminal, that's quite ordinary today, but nothing is out in style, nervous, and yet incisive literary solid, which is already much rarer. To me, the very, very high class in terms of police writing.
The book was written in 1934. No, you're not dreaming, 1934, eighty rods and it still feels fresh as if you had to unpacking. The French translation of 1950 is it a little less cool but still very decent and Gallimard has nevertheless had the excellent idea to do recently retranslated to restore all the intimate, delicate and priceless juices that had spent in the sun. So why deprive yourself?
The Thin Man who is it? Clyde Wynant. An original, inventor, crazy some say. Maybe a bit batty, certainly, but awesome enough to win handsomely life of his inventions. His ex-wife, Mimi, and her daughter, Dorothy would like to put hands on him, but since his private secretary Julia Wolf was found shot several gun bullets, the bird flew away.
It only communicates by letters or telegrams, he transits or by his lawyer Macaulay or by his son Gilbert, or by some other method that always forbidden to locate it.
Fortunately, by chance, is a former New York detective Nick Charles, who knew the family before the divorce and even the lawyer. The Guild inspector handling the case, although Nick Charles would resume service to help him see a little light in this imbroglio.
Gold also seems fishy, because it seems to have once flirts with Mimi, the ex-wife, who remarried a Jorgensen. And who is this Jorgensen? Whether looking for Dorothy to want to turn Nick? What relationship uniting the victim Julia Wolf and found Clyde Wynant? Nunheim, a three-quarter thug third area appears to have accidentally learned something about the case. Will you monetize this information? As he will have the time and leisure? Who else had an interest in the murder? For what motive? This is, obviously, I do not want to reveal any price.
The great Dashiell Hammett, the great detective, with excellent dialogues, sociological and psychological painting more refined but this is obviously just my opinion, and I am aware that it is sometimes better not found because it does not mean much.
