Abstract
One of the most remarkable features of British Golden Age detective fiction is its lack of violence. Though the crime is most frequently murder, neither the pain of the victims nor the pain of their relatives and friends is particularly indulged in; for a genre dealing predominantly with violent death, the traditional British detective novel is surprisingly pain- and bloodless — the latter, as some critics would say, in both senses of the word. As Dorothy Sayers points out in her introduction to The Omnibus of Crime: “The victim is shown rather as a subject for the dissecting-table than as a husband and father. A too violent emotion flung into the glittering mechanism of the detective story jars the movement by disturbing its delicate balance.”1 American hardboiled detective fiction, by contrast, has — as the name suggests — always been eager to depict violent actions, for instance in the recurring scene of the tough detective being beaten up by thugs, which serves to demonstrate the hero’s power of endurance and perseverance. A particularly good example of excessive violence in classic American detective fiction is Dashiell Hammett’s Red Harvest, in which the detective hero “cleans up” the corrupt city of “Poisonville,” killing a major proportion of its population in the process. However, excessive violence did not become the trademark of Hammett’s writing, as in the case of Mickey Spillane, who has become known as the main representative of the detective novel of extreme cruelty.
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Notes
David Hare, Knuckle, in: Plays 1 (London: Faber and Faber, 1996), 221–317, 270.
In David Rudkin’s Afore Night Comes of 1962, the censor for instance objected to the presentation of a severed head.
Mel Gordon, The Grand Guignol — Theatre of Fear and Terror (New York: Amok Press, 1988), 38f. It should be noted that Patrick Hamilton explicitly declared his aversion to the graphic violence of the Grand Guignol in his preface to Rope.
See Claude Schumacher (ed.), Artaud on Theatre (London: Methuen, 1989), 108.
Evadne Price and Kenneth Attiwell, Once a Crook (London: French, 1943), 66.
Alec Coppel, The Gazebo (London: English Theatre Guild, 1962), 46.
William Saroyan and Henry Cecil, Settled Out of Court (London: French, 1962), 10.
P. D. James, Original Sin (London: Faber and Faber, 1994), 24.
Percy Robinson, To What Red Hell (London: Putnam’s, 1928), 9f.
The entire cinematic genre of the “big caper movie,” represented for instance by Jules Dassin’s Du rififi chez les hommes (1955), is based on this mechanism.
Roy Vickers, “Crime on the Stage — The Criminological Illusion,” in: Michael Gilbert (ed.), Crime in Good Company: Essays on Criminals and Crime-writing (London: Constable, 1959), 179–191, 190.
Jack Popplewell, Dear Delinquent (London: Evans, 1958), 79.
J. C. Trewin, Plays of the Year1956–1957 (London: Elek, 1958), vol. 16, 8.
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© 2015 Beatrix Hesse
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Hesse, B. (2015). Violence, Crime and Punishment. In: The English Crime Play in the Twentieth Century. Crime Files Series. Palgrave Macmillan, London. https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137463043_10
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137463043_10
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