The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett

Here, Sam Spade keeps the police out of his department. For the 'strong silent type' who doesn't display a lot of emotion, he's sure nimble switching between strong emotions:

   Spade stood in the doorway and said: "You can't come in." His tone was very slightly apologetic. […]
   "What the hell, Sam?" [Tom] protested and put a big hand playfully on Spade's chest.
   "Spade leaned against the pushing hand, grinning wolfishly, and asked: "Going to strong-arm me, Tom?"
   Tom grumbled, "Aw, for God's sake," and took his hand away.
   Dundy clicked his teeth together and said through them: "Let us in."
   Spade's lip twitched over his eyetooth. He said: "You're not coming in. What do you want to do about it? Try to get in? Or do your talking here? Or go to hell?"
   Tom groaned. Dundy, still speaking through is teeth, said: "It'd pay you to play along with us a little, Spade. You've got away with this and you've got away with that, but you can't keep it up forever."
   "Stop me when you can," Spade replied arrogantly. [73]

For me, this next selection represents when the action really begins. Suddenly, Spade is on the phone and moving fast. I suspected his calm demeanor hid an acutely active and perceptive mind, but seeing him move with such speed shocked me and made me wonder about how much of the intruque Spade had figured out at this point and I hadn't (also, notice how he changes his name to suite whom he's calling and how he uses "o" for zero):

"Kearney one four o one, please. . . . Where is the Paloma, in from Hongkong yesterday morning, docked?" He repeated the question. "Thanks." He held the receiver-hook down with his thumb for a moment, released it, and said: "Davenport two o two o, please. . . . Detective bureau, please. . . . Is Sergeant Polhaus there? . . . Thanks. . . . Hello, Tom, this is Sam Spade. . . . Yes, I tried to get you yesterday afternoon. . . . Sure, suppose you go to lunch with me. . . . Right." He kept the receiver to his ear while his thumb worked the hook again. "Davenport o one seven o, please. . . . Hello, this is Samuel Spade. My secretary got a phone-message yesterday that Mr. Bryan wanted to see me. Will you ask him what time's the most convenient for him? […]" [143-144]

Here is Spade at his most masterful. He doesn't know all the answers to the intrigue he's involved with, but he needs to know what happened. He's playing it cool, and pulling it off: he's pushing for answers, without the criminals catching on, and getting them:

"[…]   Why did he shoot Thursby? And why and where and how did he shoot Jacobi?"
   Gutman smiled indulgently, shaking his head and purring: "Now come, sir, you can't expect that. We've given you the money and Wilmer. That is our part of the agreement."
   "I do expect it," Spade said. He held his lighter to his cigarette. "A fall-guy is what I asked for, and he's not a fall-guy unless he's a cinch to take the fall. Well, to chinch that I've got to know what's what. […]"
   Gutman leaned forward and wagged a fat finger at the pistols on the table beside Spade's legs. "There's ample evidence of his guilt, sir. […]"
   "Maybe," Spade agreed, "but the thing's more complicated than that and I've got to know what happened so I can be sure the parts that won't fit in are covered up."
   Cairo's eyes were round and hot. "Apparently you've forgotten that you assured us it would be a very simple affair," Cairo said. He turned his excited dark face to Gutman. "I advised you not to do this. I don't think--"
   "It doesn't make a damned bit of difference what either of you think," Spade said bluntly. "It's too late for that now. Why did he kill Thursby?" [199-200]

The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway

For this astounding work, I chose no less than nine quotes: three show Hemingway’s remarkable technique of narrative, three demonstrate a unique or plot driving use of narrative, and three are one-line-wonders.

Narrative Technique

In this first quote, one can tell not only that the American speaking French sounds slightly stilted, but that the native French speaker speaking French sounds a little bit off to the American translating in her mind. It’s really amazing how Hemingway shows how each person sounds to the other, all the while writing in English:

    “Are you related to Georgette Lebalnc, the singer? “ Mrs. Braddocks asked.
    “Conais pas,” Georgette answered.
    “But you have the same name,” Mrs. Braddocks insisted cordially.
    “No,” said Georgette. “Not at all. My name is Hobin.”
    “But Mr. Barnes introduced you as Mademoiselle Georgette Leblanc. Surely he did,” insisted Mrs. Braddocks, who in the excitement of talking French was liable to have no idea what she was saying.
    “He’s a fool,” Georgette said.
    “Oh, it was a joke, then,” Mrs. Braddocks said.
    “Yes,” said Georgette. “To laugh at.” [26]

Here, Hemingway makes the speakers sound like ‘Ugly Americans.’ Notice how the American asks, “aren’t you?” to reinforce the question and refers to “Mother and I.” An Amerocentric worldview is presented by the wife recounting, “See America first!” Notice how they’re “going down” to cities while in the rest of the book it’s just referred to as “going to” a city. And America’s religious fervor is contrasted with Europe’s way of religion when Americans take up seven cars on the train traveling back from a pilgrimage (and the stereotype of us being push, throwing our weight around, traveling large, etc.). Bill calls them “Goddam Puritans,” and the reader thinks, rightly so:

    “I suppose you’re Americans, aren’t you?” the man asked. “Having a good trip?”
    “Wonderful,” said Bill.
    “That’s what you want to do. Travel while you’re young. Mother and I always wanted to get over, but we had to wait a while.”
    “You could have come over ten ears ago, if you’d wanted to.” the wife said. “What you always said was: ‘See America first!’ I will say we’ve seen a good deal, take it one way or another.”
    “Say, there’s plenty of Americans on this train,” the husband said. “They’ve got seven cars of them from Dayton, Ohio. They’ve been on a pilgrimage to Rome, and now they’re going down to Biarritz and Lourdes.”
    “So that’s what they are. Pilgrims. Goddam Puritans,” Bill said. [91]

Here’s a great monologue. After shaving, Bill is recounting to Jake what a catch he would be for a woman. There is a lot of humor here, and a humorous reference to Horace Greeley’s “Go West, Young Man.” I selected this monologue because it is very light humor and seems harder to write, even, that some of the diatribes that occurred earlier:

“She should have. All women should see it. It’s a face that ought to be thrown on every screen in the country. Every woman ought to be given a copy of this face as she leaves the altar. Mothers should tell their daughters about this face. My son”—he pointed the razor at me—“go west with this face and grow up with the country.” [108]

Unique or Plot Based

What is Hemingway doing here? What’s with the “. . . . . .”? Is it too loud to hear the music? Would any lyrics just get in the way of Brett and Jake’s conversation? The lyrics start out “You can’t two time,” are Brett and Jake ignoring him because they’re guilty of two timing? A fascinating use of a unique narrative technique:

    The drummer shouted: “You can’t two time----“
    “It’s all gone.”
    "What’s the matter?”
    “I don’t know. I just feel terribly.”
    “. . . . . .” the drummer chanted. Then turned to his sticks.
    “Want to go?”
    [...]
    “. . . . . .” the drummer sang softly.
    “Let’s go,” said Brett. “You don’t mind.”
    “. . . . . .” the drummer shouted and grinned at Brett.”
    “All right,” I said.... [70-71]

Here Jake inadvertently describes himself. He is the “steer” that tries to keep the “bulls” (the other male characters) from goring each other. Throughout the novel Jake refers to his impotence since the war (whether it’s physical or psychological is never explained). This section of narrative stood out because Hemingway didn’t often mix dramatic irony and character development into the voices of the characters in such a manner as this:

    “Do they ever gore the steers?”
    “Sure. Sometimes they go right after them and kill them.”
    “Can’t the steers do anything?”
    “No. They’re trying to make friends.”
    “What do they have them in for?”
    “To quiet down the bulls and keep them from breaking their horns against the stone walls, or goring each other.”
    “Must be swell being a steer.” [138]

The quote here is an example of light humor in the novel. Jake seems almost tired of quoting the stilted conversations he has in languages that are not English and the conversation reads like something out of a textbook, with references to the weather and careful repetitions of each others questions and answers. It’s clear that the impatience jake feels is a result of having to wade through this conversation to get to Brett, who is more real to him than the hotel proprietor. This section of dialogue acts like a pause, almost, a suspension in his world, between the reality of him being alone and the reality of him hooking back up with Brett:

    “Muy buenos,” I said. “Is there an Englishwoman here? I would like to see this English lady.”
    “Muy buenos. Yes there is a female English. Certainly you can see her if she wishes to see you.”
    “She wishes to see me.”
    “The chica will ask her.”
    “It is very hot.”
    “It is very hot in the summer in Madrid.”
    “And how cold in winter.”
    “Yes, it is very cold in winter.”
    Did I want to stay myself in person in the Hotel Montana?
    Of that as yet I was undecided, but it would give me pleasure if my bags were brought up from the ground floor in order that they might not be stolen. Nothing was ever stolen in the Hotel Montana. In other fondas, yes. Not here. No. The personages of this establishment were ridigly selectioned. I was happy to hear it. Nevertheless I would welcome the unbringal of my bags.
    The maid came in and said that the female English wanted to see the male English now, at once.
    “Good,” I said. “You see. It is as I said.”
    “Clearly.” [244-245]

One-Line-Wonders

Hemingway could have written, “Well, are you going to buy me dinner?”, but that would have sounded different, maybe been more modern, certainly less bohemian than “a dinner.” It’s subtle; but there’s a difference. He also could have written, “Well, do you want to buy me dinner?”, but that wouldn’t be in keeping with Jake’s character. What he wrote was perfect:

“Well, are you going to buy me a dinner?” [23]

Bill says this next quote. He doesn’t say, “God I love to be back.” or “God it’s good to get back.” What he says is more masculine and raw, he’s “getting” something actively, not passive “being” and it gives Bill character:

“It’s pretty grand. God I love to get back.” [83]

I feel like a heel giving away the very last line of the book; but nothing should be off limits if one is truly reviewing a work. This is the last line; so it should be good. And it’s great. Jake has an exact grasp on Brett’s mind. She’s reckless and feckless and wanton and all about appearances. It’s not “good to think so” and it’s not pale hopefulness “Yes. Wouldn’t that be nice?” or some lousy passivity, “Yes. If only it were so.” No! It’s not Jake’s feeling he’s sharing, he’s opening a way into Brett’s mind and giving the reader her take on the situation. We never know for sure how Jake feels about it. She beguiles and rules their emotional world, because he still loves her. And in case the reader every doubted it, Hemingway writes it this way:

“Yes. Isn’t it pretty to think so?” [251]

Chilly Scenes of Winter, by Ann Beattie

Here is an early scene in the book. It’s entertaining, advances the plot (by introducing the reader to characters and setting the scene of young people getting together for dinner in one of their apartments), and the speech seems very natural. The final sentence that Sam speaks is very believable—and I’d imagine it would be a difficult one to write without it sounding fake or sentimental:

   “Yeah, but I don’t like you. You wouldn’t move over for me, so I won’t give you any beer.”
   Elise giggles. No matter what Sam does, he always has great success with women.
    “What if I get it myself?” Elise says.
    “Ah!” Sam says. “An aggressive woman. Are you an aggressive woman?”
    “When Susan and I take to the streets we’re very aggressive,” Elise says.
    “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sam says. “College kids are nuts now. You probably do hit the streets.”
    “Are you drunk?” Susan says.
    “No. Just trying to be cheerful. My dog died.”
    “We’re eating in five minutes,” Charles calls.
   Elsie goes out to the kitchen for a beer.
    “What happened to your dog?” Susan says.
    “Had a heart attack. Eight years old. Everybody’s dog lives longer than that.” [2]

In this quote, Charles is trying to force Betty to give him the phone number of his previous girlfriend. It’s a creepy thing to put into a character’s mouth, but the author does it well:

    “Is there a phone? Do you have her number?”
    “It’s unlisted,” Betty says. “I’ve got it somewhere.”
    “Can you get it? Can you give it to me right now?”
   …
    “Betty, don’t forget to find that number.”
    “I’ll look for it,” she says.
    “You can find it, can’t you?”
    “I’ll give it to you tomorrow,” she says.
   He wants it that second.
    “Thank you,” he says. “Please find it.”
    “I will,” she says. “Good night.” [233]

This final quote is surprisingly tender: it’s gentle and there’s a lot unspoken (some of which gets spoken later in the novel). One can see how carefully the characters are treading around each other, trying to see if the spark of their relationship survives:

    “Coming in, I started remembering that dessert you used to make with chocolate and the oranges, and I thought about begging you to make it immediately.”
    “Oh. I know the one you mean. You can come over sometime and I’ll make it for you.”
   Sometime? What is she talking about?
    “Tomorrow?” he says.
    “Tomorrow? I guess so. If you want to,” she says.”
   The conversation had started all wrong. She is sitting on the mattress, her back against the wall. He sits down at the end of the mattress, looking up at her.
    “You’ve got a roommate?” he says.
    “Yes. She’s at the library. She’s in graduate school.”
    “Oh. Well, what are…what are you doing?”
    “Looking frantically for work.”
    “Why don’t you come back to the library?”
    “I don’t want to,” she says.
    “Are you looking for another job like that.”
    “I wouldn’t care. I’ve just got to get a job.” [253]