Hardboiled Aesthetics: High Art and Modes of Excess in the American Detective Novel by Adeline Dan-Anh Tran a Dissertation Subm

Hardboiled Aesthetics: High Art and Modes of Excess in the American Detective Novel By Adeline Dan-Anh Tran A dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Comparative Literature in the Graduate Division of the University of California, Berkeley Committee in charge: Professor Dorothy Hale, Chair Professor Karl Britto Professor Barbara Spackman Professor Mark Goble Summer 2016 Hardboiled Aesthetics: High Art and Modes of Excess in the American Detective Novel ©2016 by Adeline Dan-Anh Tran Abstract Hardboiled Aesthetics: High Art and Modes of Excess in the American Detective Novel by Adeline Dan-Anh Tran Doctor of Philosophy in Comparative Literature University of California, Berkeley Professor Dorothy Hale, Chair Hardboiled Aesthetics: High Art and Modes of Excess in the American Detective Novel argues that 1940s American detective fiction fetishizes the work of art more perversely and self-consciously than high modernist texts. Since the early twentieth century, the modernist novel has defined its aesthetic project as a retreat from or resistance to mass culture, creating what Andreas Huyssen has called the “Great Divide.” Yet one of the central ambiguities of high modernism is its strange fascination with the low. The modernist novel displays an obsession with “the masses” even as it attempts to use this “vulgarity” to elevate its own aesthetic status. If modernism abandons the field of high art production to study “low life,” then it is surprising to find that the representation of high aestheticism surfaces with greatest frequency in one of the most “vulgar” forms of mass fiction: the American hardboiled novel. Beginning with the debates surrounding the Aesthetic Movement, between figures like Oscar Wilde and Henry James, Hardboiled Aesthetics examines how certain hardboiled writers, such as Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, James M. Cain, and Vera Caspary, attempt to distance themselves from commercial modes of production by drawing on fin de siècle European aestheticism in order to legitimize the artistic merit of the detective novel. I define the “hardboiled aesthetic” of the American detective novel as a constant fluctuation between moments of excess and attempts to contain that excessiveness. Hardboiled Aesthetics traces how cultural constructions of high aestheticism are mobilized and reconstituted in the American detective novel to produce an aesthetics that is refined yet hardboiled and masculine, elevated yet still faithful to the demands of its mass readers. I study how the signature type of the Aesthetic Movement, the highbrow aesthete, is transported from the decadent milieu of 1890s Europe to the consumerist society of 1940s America. I begin first by comparing the excessive aestheticism of S. S. Van Dine’s “Philo Vance” novels to the sparse minimalism in Dashiell Hammett’s hardboiled fiction. I argue that Van Dine consciously models his American detective as a European aesthete in order to showcase his own aesthetic knowledge. However, his excessive didacticism goes against his aesthetic goals, producing a narrative that becomes increasingly contrived and formulaic. Considered the innovator of the hardboiled style, Dashiell Hammett approaches the writing of detective fiction from what could be called an anti-aesthetic position. Through his construction of the detective as both anti-aesthete and anti-consumer, Hammett provides a new criterion for evaluating artistic value that replaces the “feminine” excesses of Van Dine’s decadent aestheticism with an emphasis on “manly” minimalism. In contrast to Hammett’s turn to minimalism as a reaction against commodification, Raymond Chandler attempts to project the novel as a source of aesthetic value through his portrayal of detective Philip Marlowe as a hybrid “hardboiled aesthete” 1 figure who is both tough yet refined. My second chapter argues that Marlowe’s ornate descriptions of art objects and rooms stem from Chandler’s fascination with Henry James’s The Spoils of Poynton, which is itself a criticism of the “aesthetic craze” of collecting that Oscar Wilde initiated in America at the turn of the century. Although Chandler’s room descriptions often impede the plot, I argue that these excessive narrative digressions in fact allow Chandler to experiment with and expand the generic limits of the detective novel. My third chapter examines how the hardboiled style, so powerfully cultivated in the commodified detective novel, comes to inform the modernist novel’s high style. For Ernest Hemingway, the pursuit of formal restraint represents a desire to re-masculinize novelistic aesthetics, a project which James M. Cain also adopts in his hardboiled writing. However, Cain’s representation of aestheticism and masculinity produces an opposite aesthetic style – that of velocity and excess – to express the tensions that Hemingway attempts to manage through minimalism. Addressing the fact that the detective novel is a predominantly masculine genre, my final chapter turns to Vera Caspary’s efforts in her novel Laura to reimagine the masculinist aesthetics of writers like Cain from a distinctly female perspective. Building on Walter Benjamin’s theories on public and private spaces, I argue that Laura’s individuality cannot be decoded from her personal possessions, thus allowing her to counteract the proprietary (male) desire to own and display her as an object of consumption. Laura affirms her female selfhood in terms of a negative capability, an excess that cannot be fully rendered by stylistic forms of representation. 2 To Dorothy Hale for believing in this project. i TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgements iii Introduction 1 Chapter One “Manufactured details”: Forgers and Connoisseurs in S. S. Van Dine and Dashiell Hammett 11 Chapter Two “In and out of rooms”: Décor and Plotting in Raymond Chandler 35 Chapter Three “It said it”: Hardboiled Voice and Queer Aesthetics in James M. Cain 60 Chapter Four “A taste for privacy”: Ownership and Female Identity in Vera Caspary 86 Bibliography 108 ii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This dissertation could not have been completed without the support and encouragement of my mentors and colleagues. First and foremost, I would like to thank my advisor, Dorothy Hale, to whom this dissertation owes a great deal. I began working with Dori during my senior year as an undergraduate at Berkeley, and in the ten years since, Dori has been unfailingly generous with her time and attention. Her confidence in my abilities motivated me to work harder when I didn’t think I could, and her enthusiasm for my project refueled my own energy when I thought I had run out. I dedicate my dissertation to Dori for helping me see my project through from “germ” to completion. I am also very grateful for the invaluable insights of my committee members: Karl Britto, whose suggestions made this a much better dissertation than it might otherwise have been; Barbara Spackman, who provided indispensible feedback during each stage of the writing process; and Mark Goble, who pointed me in the right direction whenever I was stuck. I count myself incredibly fortunate to have friends who made time to read and talk about my work, even (and especially) when I was struggling through my ideas. Jessica Crewe helped me to find my own argument innumerable times; I am always humbled by her willingness and eagerness to listen. Wendy Xin is my favorite plotter, and my life has been made richer by our conversations. Celine Piser has been my partner in teaching and in so many other undertakings. Warm thanks to my friends in Dori’s dissertation group: Juliana Chow, whose thoughtfulness touched me in so many ways; Manya Lempert, whose excitement was contagious; and Eaming Wu, whose questions helped me to refine the claims I was making. I would also like to thank Berkeley’s SMART Program for providing support for my archival research at the Raymond Chandler Papers at UCLA. In particular, I would like to thank Jacob Gerstel, who not only assisted me in the grueling task of sorting through Chandler’s manuscripts and letters at UCLA, but also made our time spent in the archives far more enjoyable. Suzanne Scala spent brunches outlining chapter ideas with me on paper napkins. Callie Maidhof helped balance my work demands with delightful Sunday dinners. My dear friends Ellen Li and Keith Enright have rooted for me every step of the way; their friendship means the world to me. Finally, I will always be indebted to my parents, without whose love and support I would not be where I am today; to Rick Debus, who is part of the family; and to my sister, Andrina, who never ceases to inspire and amaze me. iii INTRODUCTION “What does it mean to ‘possess culture’? What might it look like to possess culture—cultural capital—in the form of the novel? Alternatively, what would it mean to think of the novel as offering a kind of imaginary social space […] where one could enter into culture?” —Mark McGurl, The Novel Art In Raymond Chandler’s 1939 novel The Big Sleep, hardboiled detective Philip Marlowe is hired to track down the rare book dealer Arthur Geiger, who is involved in a blackmail scheme. When Marlowe questions Agnes, the clerk at Geiger’s bookstore (“Rare Books and De Luxe Editions”), he moves effortlessly between his usual tough talk and the polite, lofty speech of a cultivated aesthete: I had my horn-rimmed sunglasses on. I put my voice high and let a bird twitter in it. “Would you happen to have a Ben Hur 1860?” She didn’t say: “Huh?” but she wanted to. She smiled bleakly. “A first edition?” “Third,” I said. “The one with the erratum on page 116.” “I’m afraid not—at the moment.” “How about a Chevalier Audubon 1840—the full set, of course?” “Er—not at the moment,” she purred harshly. Her smile was now hanging by its teeth and eyebrows and wondering what it would hit when it dropped.

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