nÚmero especial sobre la novela criminal femenina || pioneers: spanish american women writers of...

Pioneers: Spanish American Women Writers of Detective FictionAuthor(s): Gianna M. MartellaSource: Letras Femeninas, Vol. 28, No. 1, NÚMERO ESPECIAL SOBRE LA NOVELA CRIMINALFEMENINA (VERANO 2002), pp. 31-44Published by: Asociacion Internacional de Literatura y Cultura Femenina HispanicaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/23021383 .

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Pioneers: Spanish American Women Writers of

Detective Fiction

Gianna M. Martella

Western Oregon University

In her article "In a Different Voice: Women's Conception of Self and

of Morality," Carol Gilligan seeks "to identify in the feminine experience and construction of social reality a distinctive voice, recognizable in the

different perspective it brings to bear on the construction and resolution

of moral problems" (275). This difference in the way women and men

solve ethical and moral problems, as well as how women are affected by their relationships, is well exemplified in detective and crime fiction stories

written by two female authors in Spanish America between the late 1940s

and the 1960s.

While many Spanish American authors have experimented with

writing detective and crime fiction, they are invariably more recognized for their work in other areas and genres. Very few women are known for

writing detective and crime fiction in Spanish American literature in the

period from the late 1930s to the 1970s. Besides Silvina Ocampo, an

Argentinian, who collaborated with her husband, Adolfo Bioy Casares, on the novel Los que aman, odian (1946), and Maria Elvira Bcrmudez, a

Mexican writer and critic, editor of several anthologies of Mexican stories

Gianna Martella grew up in Uruguay, and has studied in Germany and in the

United States. She holds a Licenciatura in Translation from the Universidad de la

Republica in Uruguay, and received her Ph.D. from the University of Texas in

Austin. She has always been interested in detective stories and how they reflect

the historical reality of the country where they were published. Her publications include a translation in the anthology Escritoras de Hispanoamerica, a manual

on teaching about cultural competency, and articles about Italian immigration to

Uruguay and the hard-boiled novel as a critique of the dictatorship in Argentina

during the 1970s. Dr. Martella is an assistant professor at Western Oregon

University in Monmouth, Oregon and an active member of the Popular Culture

Association.



32 Letras Femeninas, Volumen XXVIII, No. 1 (junio 2002)

of detective and crime fiction, my investigations have led me to only two

other female writers who published mystery novels or short stories. They are Italian-born Syria Poletti (b. 1921), who wrote in Argentina, and Maria

Angelica Bosco (b. 1917), an Argentinian who published several mystery novels. Schiminovich points out that "in contrast to the Anglo-American world, Argentina has barely any female writers of detective fiction: Maria

Angelica Bosco and Syria Poletti stand out, therefore, all the more

strikingly" (17). However, the critical attention that Poletti has received

has focused mainly on her work outside the genre of detective and crime

fiction.

In this article, I will consider whether two detective stories by Bosco

and Poletti are different from those written by men. It is my opinion that

they are. In this genre, and when compared to the works of their male

counterparts, those by women generally present thematic dissimilarities, which can be seen not only in the topics and situations depicted, but also

in the closure of the story. I will also compare selected writings by Poletti

and Bosco to the traditional models in detective and crime fiction, the

classic1 and the hardboiled,2 and will show which characteristics of these

traditional formulae were retained, as well as how they were subverted, as the authors worked to re-cast the genre in a feminine perspective.

Several differences can be found when comparing crime and detection

stories written by women in Spanish America during the period under

study to those written by men. Women writers tend to give more

prominence to female characters, to children, to family and personal

relationships, and to the roles played by emotion and intuition. "Some critics point out that when women write of crime, they focus less on the actual crime and more on the relationships among the characters involved with the case" (Schiminovich 17). I would add that when these women

write of crime, they tend to focus also on how these relationships among the characters affect the crime and its solution.

In most of the detective and crime stories written by men that were

published during the period under review, there are very few amorous

relationships or interests mentioned. In many cases there are no female

characters in the stories, much less women who are protagonists. However, in the crime stories by Poletti and Bosco, love relationships are essential to the plot, and even if the actual detectives are male, it is the female

characters who play an essential part in the investigation and discovery of the mystery. Likewise, in traditional detective stories, there are

practically no children who appear as characters of significance, or even



Martella 33

references to children. "The obvious assumption is that [in terms of solving

mysteries] children have no place in these incidents at all" (Routley 165).

Poletti, however, casts children as important characters in her story, and

in fact, it is one of the children who provides the insight or vital information

that helps solve the case.

Poletti and Bosco create two main characters who are strong women.

It is because of their actions that the crimes are investigated as such, and

not dismissed as unfortunate accidents. The denouements in both stories

follow the lines of feminine reasoning stated in Gilligan's article, since, in opposition to the tradition of the classic and hard-boiled models, the

final focus is not on the discovery of the puzzle and punishment of the

culprits, but on the protagonist's decision to follow the dictate of her

conscience and her personal idea of justice. Poletti's short story, "Rojo en la salina" was published as part of the

collection Historias en rojo (1964). It presents a female perspective of

the traditional detective story, as it links murder to passion, revenge, and

family relationships. It also deals with issues that will become predominant in the Spanish American literature of the next two decades: social and

political unrest, the rise of left-wing movements, and confrontations

between unionists and the defenders of the status quo. Although in this

story the political conflict remains in the background, the resentment

stirred by this unrest emerges as a plausible motive for murder. Mecha, Poletti's main character, is a woman who finds herself compelled to

investigate a disappearance. She is different from most traditional amateur

detectives for several reasons: she trusts her intuition at an emotional

rather than an analytical level, and, since she is personally involved, she

lacks the objective outsider's stance of the expert; there is a police

investigator in charge (even though his role in the story is minimal); and

finally, even though she solves the puzzle, her detection does not yield

any practical results, since for lack of proof the murderers will never be

arrested.

With this story, Poletti breaks out of the mold of the classic detective

tradition. The main character and instigator of the investigation is a strong

woman, who, instead of accusing the murderers, as would most of her

male predecessors in the classic tradition, becomes aware of what Gilligan defines as "the violence inherent in the dilemma itself which

[compromises] the justice of any of its possible resolutions. This

construction of the dilemma [leads her] to recast the moral judgment from a consideration of the good to a choice between evils" (311).




Poletti's male detective is present, but is almost invisible and has no

active part in the action, and, at the denouement, the tradition of publicly

solving the puzzle is not upheld, since the criminals escape punishment and there is no closure for those involved. Mecha, as opposed to the

amateur detective tradition in the classics, chooses to save her dignity and the integrity of her family instead of accusing her husband of murder.

"Rojo en la salina" takes place in the isolation of a small village in an

Argentinian province. The story underscores the rivalry and mistrust

between the locals and the newly-arrived European immigrants, and

includes references to political conflicts in the salt mine owned by the

protagonist. The reluctance of the locals to accept the newcomers and the

political unrest provide an ample variety of suspects once Malinosky, a

Pole who worked as the manager of the salt mine, disappears. The workers

dislike Malinosky and his wife, who is Italian, because they consider

them "gente de ajuera" (17), outsiders, "others." Mecha interprets this

rejection as an expression of disappointment, since the locals wanted to

see one of their own as manager of the salt mine, but fails to see the real

causes behind this resentment, like the common knowledge that

Malinosky's wife and Mecha's husband are having an affair.

At first Mecha refuses to believe that the manager is missing, because, as she observes, there's nowhere to go, and "de aqui nadie desaparece"

(18). She tells the chief of police that "todos creen, o simulan creer, que se trata de un accidente..." (31), but she suspects that the manager's

disappearance needs to be investigated as a crime, and the logical place to start looking is in the marshes that surround the village. Dennis Porter

observes that

Traditionally, [certain descriptive passages] produce an

image.. .designed to trigger recognition and efface itself instantly for

the sake of its meaning. And in detective stories in particular they are used especially to make the reader properly responsive to a promise or threat. [These passages] are calculated to.. .stimulate a shudder of

foreboding [...that orients] the reader's feelings. (42-43)

Every time that the salt marshes that surround the area are mentioned

in "Rojo en la salina," the reader experiences this foreboding noted by Porter. Even the name by which the marshes are known locally, tembladerales (shivering marshes) connotes a sense of danger, even of

horror, and the reader knows immediately that the body will be found in

the "terrenos cenagosos y movedizos, cubiertos por una capa cristalina



Martella 35

[donde] se ocultaba la muerte, viscosa e implacable, entre cloruro de

sodio y pantanos metaliferos" (24). For Mecha, this investigation quickly becomes a personal matter,

and therefore she must choose between two evils. She must face her own

reality: the political disturbances in her salt mine that threaten the way of

life she has always known, and the suspicion that her husband may have

been responsible for the manager's death. Just like the protagonists of

Poletti's novels, Genie conmigo (1961) and Extrano oficio (1971), Mecha

"faces a series of disruptions which threaten her personal development, but she manages to salvage her integrity and to arrive at some sort of

realization of her true self' (Titiev 49). She also puts her family's well

being and her social position in the village above justice—as it is usually understood in this genre: she keeps silent instead of sharing her discoveries

with the police, while the most common reaction of the detectives in the

classic and hard-boiled traditions would be to accuse, arrest, or kill the

murderer regardless of his or her relationship to the investigator. Mecha chooses to defy the rules of the patriarchal society she belongs

to: she conceals what she knows possibly because the police may be able

to find more evidence that can link the murder to her husband, and her

objective is to keep her own world as whole as possible. This action by the main character sets this story apart from the traditional classic model, since she allows the criminals to escape unpunished. The victim may have been an "other" who was disliked by the locals, but since Mecha's

husband is a respected member of the community, he cannot easily be

arrested and forgotten, as the criminal so frequently is in the classic, using

marginality as an excuse.

Another difference between this story and the classic model is that

the final clue that Mecha needs to solve the mystery is given to her by a

drawing made by her daughter. As noted earlier, it is very unusual for

children to be characters in detective fiction, and even more to have one

of them provide the clue that is key to solving the puzzle. This story can be placed within the classic tradition because it keeps

some of its conventions, such as the lack of explicit violence, and a puzzle that is solved in the end. Even though the culprits escape punishment, their leaving the village banishes them from the community where the

crime took place. However, other conventions that the reader has come

to identify with the classic have been abandoned. The official detective, who is the chief of police of a neighboring town, is barely mentioned (he does not even have a name), and does not solve the mystery himself.




Unlike the traditional classic, even though the case is solved for Mecha

and for the reader, "Rojo en la salina" does not offer a neat, reassuring

ending in which the success of the detective ensures that the world

continues to be a safe place. This story by Poletti is also threatening to

the status quo traditionally maintained by the classic, since "in the

conventional detective novel the reader is secured in his/her normality

by the novel's firm presentation of deviance as the sign of the unacceptable other" (Hilfer 29). With its realistic portrayal of family relationships and

motive for murder, its acceptance that a woman can be a successful

investigator, and the fact that the criminals will not be punished for lack

of evidence, Poletti's story abandons some of the accepted conventions

of the classic. Instead of reassuring the readers of the safety of the world

they live in, Mecha's investigation "leads her to self-revealing truths that

simultaneously open up for the reader a world of ambiguities and a sense

of the complexities of human relationships" (Schiminovich 20). There is no justice done for the dead man or for Mecha: they are both

innocent victims of circumstance, and the ending of this story brings us

one step closer to the world portrayed in the Spanish American version

of the hard-boiled, where criminals are not always punished, and where

sympathetic characters suffer because the world is not a fair place where

good always triumphs over evil.

"Rojo en la salina" is a good example of the first open deviation

from the classical model in the Spanish American version of this formula.

There is a recognition that women can investigate, and even succeed

where the professional male detectives do not. Mecha may be seen as a

predecessor of the hard-boiled female detective, because her actions do

not yet threaten the male tradition of the classic formula, but, at the same

time, by choosing to remain silent about her findings, she defies the

prevalent idea of justice (the punishing of the culprits) of the status quo. The choice that Mecha makes is to refuse to condemn someone she

loves. She thereby denies herself and society from seeing justice done, which is clearly opposed to the investigator's aim in the traditional classic

and many of the hardboileds, no matter the sacrifices it may entail. Here,

however, Mecha "equates justice with the maintenance of existing social

systems" (Gilligan 283), in her case, her family and community. Maria Angelica Bosco has been considered "the first woman to publish

detective fiction in Argentina" (Simpson 47), and has contributed to the

genre with several novels, the first of which, La muerte baja por el

ascensor, was published in 1954. La muerte soborna a Pandora (1956),



Martella 37

one of Bosco's earlier detective novels, provides some basic deviations

from the classic tradition that, even if not yet a clear example of the hard

boiled model produced later in Spanish America, it is closer to this formula.

In analyzing this novel, it is interesting to consider the changes in

style, plot, and characterization that differentiate it from the classic and

introduce certain important traits that are typical of the hard-boiled. These

changes become apparent mainly in the portrayal of the detective and the

depictions of sex, violence, and death. While the traditional hard-boileds

that appeared initially in the pulp magazines in the United States between

the 1920s and the 1940s are openly anti-women, Bosco manages to

appropriate some of the techniques that are this formula's signature, and

tell the story from a perspective that is undeniably female. For example,

Ines, the main character of La muerte soborna a Pandora, is a young,

single woman who is sexually active, but, even though the story was

written in the 1950s in Argentina, a predominantly Catholic country, where, at the time, sexual activity outside marriage was seen as

reprehensible, the author never portrays her in a negative light. The setting for this novel is unusual for either a classic or a hard

boiled, since most of the action takes place in or around a beauty salon.

The clientele is, of course, all female, as are the employees, and the owners, who are sisters and business partners. Even though Bosco employs substantial irony when describing the salon as painted "en colores que

sugerian el interior de un refrigerador" (10), this setting would probably not be the choice for a male writer of detective fiction during the period under study in Spanish America. Neither is the plot, which involves gossip about co-workers, clients, family and friends, with great emphasis on the

importance of the relationships among them.

Another difference between this novel and most of the classic stories, both imported and Spanish American, is that the action in La muerte

soborna a Pandora occurs in a working environment. Almost every character in the novel works for a living. The world of the hard-boiled

tends to be more realistic than that of the classic in the sense that people have jobs and responsibilities. Many characters in the classic model, such

as most amateur detectives, did not have to concern themselves with work

because of their financial independence, in the tradition of the privileged idle investigator that began with Poe's M. Dupin and continued with Conan

Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, or even Mecha, Poletti's character from "Rojo en la salina".




The vocabulary used in this novel is another typical characteristic of

women's writing of the period under study. There is no profanity; everybody's choice of language is polite, even in the case of one of the

characters who is described as exuding "chabacaneria" (30). Ines uses

many images when talking about her investigation that could be considered

feminine in a traditional way, such as describing the beauty salon as "un

molde" (9), and her own ideas as "[un]caldo impreciso" (113), a

vocabulary that can be immediately associated with traditional female

roles, such as sewing or the realm of cooking and the kitchen. This choice

of expressions can be contrasted with Philip Marlowe's description of

his own office in The Big Sleep: "There were three near-walnut chairs, the usual desk with the usual blotter, pen set, ashtray and telephone, and the usual squeaky swivel chair behind it." (51). There is nothing personal or subjective in this description, or, for that matter, in this office.

Bosco focuses on relationships, affairs, partnerships, and attractions. This accent on human bonds seems to be different from the focus that most male writers seem to favor, especially in the hard-boiled tradition, where the emphasis tends to be on the action, as well as on the inherently

lonely world of the male detective.

In Bosco's novels, "women, along with men, are victims and killers"

(Simpson 48), mirroring real life, where most crimes are committed by people who are related to the victims or acquainted with them. Bosco's novels "highlight the psychological and sociological dimensions of

violence, especially in domestic contexts [...and her] investigations disclose secret, degrading relationships among family members" (Simpson 48).

In La muerte soborna a Pandora, one of the owners of the beauty salon dies under mysterious circumstances and Ines, the main character, sets out to find out what really happened. Since she does not want to be

responsible for the actual investigation, however, she hires a male detective to conduct it, for at the time this novel was written it is not yet possible to be a female investigator

... in that American tradition which began with Black Mask magazine. To be hard-boiled.. .was to be a man. The culture had generated no

precedent for a tough-talking, worldly-wise woman, capable of

defending herself in the roughest company... thus the new ethos of

hard-boiled detective fiction was not only anti-English and antielitist, it was also antifeminist. (Porter 183)



Martella 39

La muerte soborna a Pandora brings back Ferruccio Blasi, who, in

Bosco's previous novel, La muerte baja en el ascensor (1954), was a

young police sergeant. While in that novel he was merely assisting his

superior, a police investigator, he now appears as one of the first private detectives in Spanish American hard-boiled fiction.

In the tradition of the classic, there is a death that those implicated want to make appear accidental. On the other hand, along the lines favored

by the hard-boiled, we have two professional private detectives, Aldante

and Blasi, neither one of whom is an amateur who investigates as a hobby;

they expect payment for their work. As Blasi warns Ines, "Supongo que sabra que estas investigaciones son muy costosas" (67). Blasi and Aldante

work for different agencies, and neither one of them has a partner or an

assistant. This idea of the lone detective is common to many hard-boileds, and different from the convention in most classics. Blasi and Aldante are

pedestrian; they make mistakes; they do not make literary references when

they speak. Blasi becomes sexually involved with Ines, which would be

an impossible situation in the tradition of the classics (besides being a

breach of professional ethics, since Ines is his client), and in spite of his

attraction toward one of the murder suspects. But casual sex is quite a

common occurrence in the society and environment that is the domain of

Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe, and Mike Hammer, the first hard-boiled

detectives created respectively by Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and Mickey Spillane between the 1920s and the 1950s. This sexual

permissiveness is also one of the trademarks of most hard-boiled detectives

in Spanish America.

Ines's interest in Blasi, the detective, is immediate, and some of her

behavior toward him could be considered too forward coming from a

female, especially in the light of the classic formula, where women, if at

all present, behaved in a circumspect manner. In the classic narrative, women were regarded with great deference by their male companions,

especially the detectives. The treatment of female characters in the classic

formula could be described as a case of courtly love, where women were

admired from afar, respected, worshipped, and saved, but very seldom

became the object of the detective's lust. In this case, however, the

treatment that women receive is more in agreement with the hard-boiled

model, where females can be the victims of gruesome murders, can also

be murderers, and are usually regarded by the male characters as potential sexual partners. Bosco, however, manages to create a protagonist who is

more liberated than most of the female characters in the traditional hard




boiled of the 1930s and the 1940s, and who, at the same time, is never

without dignity. Ines may be forward about sex, but she has principles. She is not the virgin-like female character of the traditional classic, but

neither is she the seductress at the other end of the spectrum, as many of

the female characters were represented in the hard-boiled model, portrayed in negative terms by male authors in keeping with patriarchal views of

women who are sexually active.

In the course of this story, drinking alcohol has consequences, not at

all like the constant social drinking so typical of the classic model in

which, as is the case with death, alcohol consumption does not seem to

have lingering and disagreeable effects. This change in the depiction of

relationships, sex, and the effects of alcohol has been considered by one

critic as a result of "Raymond Chandler's demand for more realism..."

(Paul 177). The description of death is not aseptic here, as was the rule in the

classics: corpses are frightening and ugly to look at, and death takes its

toll physically as well as emotionally. While the first victim, during her

life, had been known for her beauty, when Ines finds her body: "...la

boca se abria en un rictus desagradable, descubriendo una palida lengua azulada como un desvanecido cardenal. La postura de su cuerpo tenia la

blandura de un muneco cuyos resortes han saltado" (30).

Explicit violence does not stop with the description of death. Moments

after Ines has found the body of the second victim, someone strikes her

unconscious with a blow to the head. Being female does not save her

from physical harm or from the threats of those who want to keep her

from investigating. La muerte soborna a Pandora features some of the traditional

conventions of detective fiction, such as the main character being plagued

by an elusive feeling that could cast light on the case but that she cannot

identify clearly, or the notion that the murder victims, according to W. H.

Auden's observation in "The Guilty Vicarage," have to satisfy the

contradictory requirements of being a 'bad' character while, at the same

time, being a 'good' character (19). In this case, the two victims were

admired by some for their accomplishments and strength, but were feared

and despised by others for the very same reasons. As one of the characters

says, "en el fondo, no lamento la muerte de Tilly ni mucho menos la de

Cora. Tilly protegia las incorrecciones de la hermana. ... jCora corrompia todo lo que tocaba! Era un ser perverso" (103).



Martella 41

The main suspect for the killings, the murdered sisters' former maid,

appears to be the holder of many family secrets. She presents many of

the characteristics of the "otherness" that in many classic crime novels

would be indicative of criminal behavior: she comes from the 'lower

classes,' is resentful toward her former employers, and has considerable

power over them because of what she knows. She is described as having

"[un] rostro maligno e insolente" (34).

Blasi, the private investigator, is portrayed as neither honorable nor

trustworthy, qualities that were expected of the classic detective, but which, in the Spanish American hard-boiled, seem to be eclipsed by other

characteristics, such as physical strength, endurance, and survival instincts.

Another convention used by Bosco, common to many detective

stories, is a letter written by one of the victims. Usually, when found, it

clears the puzzle, but in this case, the letter does not give any explanations. It only states what has been clear from the very beginning: that the first

victim had caused considerable harm to many people, and that several of

them had the motive and the opportunity to kill her.

The story ends with Ines going back to her family in one of the

provinces, and leaving the city behind, with most of the complexities that have arisen in the last weeks unresolved: her involvement with Blasi, the two deaths, and the suspicious relationships among the two victims

and the people who surrounded them. Ines decides that "no existe una

evidencia razonable" (171) that can condemn anyone, and, unlike the

protagonists of the traditional classic and hard-boiled detective stories, she walks away from the challenge and refuses to continue investigating to discover the truth. Her relationship with Blasi, as well as his obvious

attraction to a young woman whom Ines suspects, influence her reluctance

to continue investigating. Ines does not want to come forward with what she knows or suspects

for fear that her accusation will seem motivated by jealousy. At the same

time, the tone of the last paragraphs is so bitter and nostalgic that the

reader may wonder whether Ines has decided that finding out the truth

will make no difference to the victims or to the living. Acknowledging defeat and not accusing a rival to save face are not common occurrences

in traditional detective stories, classic or hard-boiled. In this genre, the

detective's objectivity and desire to uncover the truth usually override

whatever feelings he may have developed toward the other characters in

the story.




There is a pervading sense of bitterness and disillusionment in this

novel, a vision of the world that is typical of the hard-boiled detective

novel from the United States. Even though this environment looks

sophisticated and clean on the surface, there are ugly, seedy secrets as

well as "a shabby and depressing reality [concealed] beneath its painted facade" (Grella 112). This sense of disillusionment is strengthened by the fact that Ines leaves without having solved the mystery of who killed

the two sisters.

Commenting upon Poletti's novel Extrano oficio, Titiev notes that at

first it appears to "[illustrate] the conviction that a woman cannot have

both love and a public life" (55). This observation can easily be applied to both Poletti's story "Rojo en la salina" and to Bosco's novel. Mecha

and Ines must make sacrifices in order to comply with the expectations that society has of women, and one of these sacrifices is to give up their

quest for the truth.

Poletti and Bosco may not have created the first female investigators in Spanish American detective and crime fiction, but they have succeeded

in creating a precedent with their strong female characters who can initiate

an investigation and reason like a detective. These two authors are pioneers who have experimented with detective and crime fiction, using some of

its conventions but giving the genre a feminine viewpoint that is different

from that of the traditional formulas.

NOTES

1 Traditional classic detective fiction follows rather faithfully the formulaic stories published mainly in England and in the United States during the late 1800s and the early 1900s. The main character is usually a detective who is

expected to solve a puzzle. In general, the criminal is discovered and punished at the end of the story, and order in society is restored. "Like traditional fairy stories, detective novels typically involve a loss and a recovery, a criminal act

and the act revenged, an exposure to danger and the return from danger" (Porter

230). 2 The hard-boiled model was popularized in the United States between the

1920s and the 1940s by pulp magazines such as Black Mask. These stories nar

rate the adventures of a tough, no-nonsense male detective who survived in a

hostile environment by his wits and his muscles. The hard-boiled detective is modeled after the characters created by Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, and Mickey Spillane, and does not hesitate to confront violence with violence.



Martella

Chandler described the difference between the world the hard-boiled detective

lives in, and the genteel environment portrayed in the classic formula as fol

lows: "murder [was given] back to the kind of people that commit it for reasons, not just to provide a corpse; and with the means at hand, not with hand-wrought

duelling pistols, curare, and tropical fish" (234).

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Auden, W. H. "The Guilty Vicarage." Winks 15-23.

Bosco, Maria Angelica. La muerte soborna a Pandora. 1956. Buenos Aires:

Conjunta, 1977.

Chandler, Raymond. "The Simple Art of Murder." In Haycraft, Howard, ed. The Art of the Mystery Story. New York: Biblo and Tannen, 1976. 222-37.

—. The Big Sleep. New York: Random House, 1967.

Gilligan, Carol. "In a Different Voice: Women's Conceptions of Self and of

Morality." In Eisenstein, Hester, and Alice Jardine, eds. The Future of Difference. Boston: G. K. Hall & Co., 1980. 274-317.

Grella, George. "The Hard-Boiled Detective Novel." Winks 103-120.

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