Dashiell Hammett Review: The Glass Key

Dashiell Hammett is best known for The Maltese Falcon but The Glass Key is in the running. While The Glass Key has been adapted to film twice (and once semi-adapted), I knew nothing of the story until I started reading.

The protagonist, Ned Beaumont, seems to have it made. He’s best friend to Paul Madvig, the political kingpin of their unnamed city. Madvig is set to marry the daughter of their unnamed state’s senator, cementing his power. Everything starts to unravel when Ned finds the dead body of the senator’s son and suspicion points to Madvig. Ned searches for the truth which almost kills him and destroys his friendship with Madvig.

If the story sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because, while the two film adaptations of The Glass Key aren’t high in the public’s conscious, the Coen Brothers’ Miller’s Crossing is loosely based on it and Hammett’s Red Harvest. This may make certain book snobs clutch their pearls, but Miller’s Crossing is a rare case of the movie being better than the book. Like Jaws or The Godfather, the visual enhances the written word.

Normally the written word can’t be beat–books can provide a window into the mind that no movie could hope for. It’s the narration of The Glass Key that doesn’t come together for me.

The novel is told in the third-person and there are three main types of third-person narration:

Third-person omniscient which sees all and knows all, following everything, seeing everyone’s thoughts.

Third-person limited which focuses on one character at a time, following that individual and only revealing only that person’s thoughts.

Third-person minimalist which flatly describes a scene, revealing no one’s thoughts.

The Glass Key is close to third-person limited but we never get into Ned’s mind. While the writing style is descriptive and vivid, the narration kept the characters at an arm’s length. The novel has the weak points of all three types of narration but not the strengths.

In Raymond Chandler’s writing, Philip Marlowe might act petty or cruel but the reader sees into his mind–we feel what he feels, we understand.

Many mystery writers, like Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, use a sidekick to provide first-person narration and a mysterious view of the detective. G.K. Chesterton and Dorothy L. Sayers use philosophical discussions to elevate their narration.

We don’t get that in The Glass Key. Instead of walking in Philip Marlowe’s shoes, it feels like watching Ned Beaumont from across the street. His interactions should be stronger but they feel distant.

The story of The Glass Key was better than many mystery novels but it just didn’t have the same impact.

I didn’t realize it but I only have one more novel of Hammett to read, The Dain Curse. Hammett has a much wider and uneven range than Raymond Chandler. I’m still wondering if that’s a good thing.