Holmes boasted he's the only one of his kind. He is not a police investigator; he’s a consulting detective: a private individual to whom government and police officials go when their own skills are insufficient. Similarly, Holmes possess a certain classlessness: he is socially mobile, working for the wealthy, the noble, and the poor, demonstrating at varying times gentlemanly and bohemian traits: immaculate in attention to his appearance and yet Baker Street is a perpetual mess (from the few indications we receive); he enjoys attending concerts and, when bored, will generously partake of opium or cocaine, habits Watson openly detests. Holmes is therefore both rarefied and reified: unique, beyond the scope of normal people and minds, yet has Watson and other traits to ground him in reality. With no disrespect, Holmes is almost a cartoon character: the stories represent him in a believable way, until we really start thinking about it.
This is not Sam Spade. The only major similarities that emerge between Sam Spade, the man who looks “rather pleasantly like a blond Satan,” and Sherlock Holmes are their shared profession, and even there, it gets fuzzy. There's little resemblance between the two, and the same could be said for the other hard-boiled detectives who follow in Spade's wake: Spade and his hard-boiled fellows form a class of their own.
The hard-boiled literary private investigators are not the generous gentlemen of Holmes and Watson, liminal figures free to move almost with impunity. They belong in their own social sphere: Spade and his business partner, Archer, formed a partnership presumably not to split the rent but because they both share the same profession, and neither can claim to be its sole practitioner. They’re not anomalous like Holmes, existing beyond and between the societal norms: they’re just representatives of a certain class of individuals, a subculture that pokes its way through other subcultures and those who inhabit them.
Spade, Archer, and others of their ilk inhabit a class of snoops and sneaks, working for their clients and not necessarily for the social good. They’re frequently violent men who carry guns not in case they encounter something dangerous (as Holmes infrequently asks Watson to bring his revolver) but because they will encounter something dangerous. They drink and smoke habitually and are near constant loners. They generally live alone and work alone, a pest to the official forces rather than an aid. Social outsiders rather than social maintainers.
It can be said Spade and his literary compatriots take what Holmes represents and turn it down a dark, cynical, violent path. However, this is not simply an inversion of style or character, but is the result of social changes that set apart the rigid but precarious Victorian world with the more cynical and experimental post war era of Modernism. We can then turn to three different contributing factors that created very different worlds for the 1887 A Study in Scarlet and 1929's The Maltese Falcon to appear in.
- First of all, Dashiell Hammett was himself a Pinkerton detective, as opposed to Doyle's professional life as a physician and occasional police consultant.
- Second, Spade and Hammett are Americans, not British, meaning many of the philosophies about social hierarchy and class distinction that undercut much of Doyle's work are absent.
- Third, the The Maltese Falcon was published in 1929 – after the first World War, and after the Stock Market Crash.
All of these factors, which I'll address in more detail in the coming posts, all converge on the creation of a different kind of detective, and while Dashiell Hammett and Sam Spade may never eclipse Doyle and Holmes in popularity, they nevertheless form a progression in the development and solidifying of a significant literary genre.