The Maltese Falcon is a noir blast to the past, written entirely in external third-person narrative with no thoughts or feelings. The result is a somewhat disconnected perspective of iconic detective Sam Spade, who is often coldly detached, analytical, and unflinching in the face of danger. 

While some might even call him a poster child for toxic masculinity, I found his ruthless determination fun and refreshing. Given the other characters in the book are equally well-equipped and cunning (male or female), Spade needs to be every bit as charming and charismatic to thrive. 

In fact, the entire plot is sparked by the beautiful "Miss Wonderley" who hires them to follow Floyd Thursby. She claims Thursby has run off with her sister but is really setting up a con of her own — roping the unsuspecting detectives into an international treasure hunt for a near-priceless relic once owned by the King of Spain. 

Although Wonderley often comes across as a Confederate (or perhaps Spade wants it to appear that way), the other villains appear heavily stereotyped and overplayed. Or, they may have even set the stereotype that most of us have come to know from James Bond and Indiana Jones-like bad guys. The sniveling Joel Cairo and engrossed Kasper Gutman, and hot-headed Wilmer Cook feel like they've all appeared in a thousand similar stories about cops, robbers, cons, and crooks. 

The story is enjoyable overall, except for the rapid-fire tying up of loose ends at the finish. But even so, I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who doesn't like nor understand noir, as you'll see most other reviews seem split along those lines — those who don't like noir don't like it. Those who understand it on the front end enjoy it because it delivers exactly what it is. Even as much as I enjoyed it, The Maltese Falcon will never be my favorite. But not all books have to be.