In an attempt to diagnose the modern age with its particular disorder: is it apathy? Xenophobia? Cynicism? Class exploitation? Racism, sexism, some other -ism? It has been the task of modernist writers to explore the many afflictions that lurk in the contemporary age, in an attempt to distinguish order from chaos. Or maybe not. Perhaps the goal is not to achieve order, but to challenge it, eradicate every remnant of it and crush it before age takes over and brings everything back into its rigid tracks. More than anything, the goals of modernist writers like Robert Frost and Dashiell Hammett seem to align with subverting the binaries that had caged the thinking of previous generations. The characters in Hammett's novel The Maltese Falcon and the character in Frost's poem “Acquaintance with the Night” are not meanly rebellious, but rather illustrate how the chaos of modernity must be navigated by equally chaotic personalities – and how crossing traditional boundaries may not be neither one nor the other. wrong nor right, neither good nor bad, but necessary. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay There is a lot to be said for how necessary it is for Hammett's protagonist, Sam Spade, to ignore the limits set by traditional legal practices and order. As he attempts to navigate a series of destabilizing events in San Francisco's already destabilized, crime-saturated landscape, Spade is forced to adopt and enforce his own moral compass, the needle of which seeks truth and justice rather than ethics. In fact, the moral code that binds his "colleagues" to the San Francisco Police Department ends up bogging them down; Spade's subversion of morality and his adoption of amoral behavior allow him to continually keep up with, and ultimately thwart, the criminals he investigates. Throughout the novel, the indifferent third-person point of view provides readers with only superficial images of what is happening; as such it is evident that Spade's actions are constantly at odds with those of the honest Lieutenant Dundy and Sergeant Tom Polhaus. Polhaus's introduction could not be more different from Spade's introduction: Spade, being the "blond Satan", is immediately characterized as a person of great effect: whether that effect is wholesome or evil is ambiguous, but it remains clear that his image is striking and elicits a reaction (391). He sits, seemingly bored and collected, seemingly waiting, almost certainly ready for action upon his presentation. Polhaus, on the other hand, is presented as a man who has "climbed" to Spade's side, a man with a "carelessly" shaved face, small eyes, jowls and a body covered in dirt due to his messy task (probably undertaken carelessly). to investigate the body of Miles Archer (400). The effect is of someone wholly ineffective, and this is compounded by his seemingly inadequate presence as Spade's informant, who fills in the blanks of Archer's murder quite easily. Even after his introduction, Polhaus is always referred to only by his first name, not his title as a police department detective; in direct contrast to Spade, Polhaus is easily dismissed as a significant figure, let alone an officer of the law. Its presence is that of the law – the border – which exists simply because tradition dictates it, simply because this false, obsolete relic of the past maintains the image of public safety. Polhaus exists to be overlooked and challenged, as Spade consistently demonstrates. The benevolent position ePolhaus's morally superior version of the police detective has served its purpose and, with the influx of easy violence and social chaos into the modern world, must now be replaced by a position of moral ambiguity and methodical pursuit of truth and justice rather than the superficial maintenance of moral integrity. Lieutenant Dundy presents a completely different set of obstacles imposed by traditional legal standards. Suspicious and uncouth, Dundy is that stubborn rock of traditional value who refuses to budge and loathes anything, such as Sam Spade, that might hang around him. As with Spade and Polhaus, Dundy is described and characterized immediately in his introduction. His “compact” body (that is, robust and inflexible), his overly well-groomed clothing, his meticulously groomed “greying” hair announce the presence of someone who takes himself very seriously. He has grown gray with age and experience, refuses to indulge Spade in his comradely rum offering, and perceives all situations through “hard, deliberate eyes” that leave no room for quibble (403). (Not, of course, that Spade sticks to this.) He also exudes the lingering threat of physical strength, lashing out at Spade after a long session of "joking" (458). Unlike Polhaus, Dundy is too effective as an officer of the law. Dundy doesn't enforce law and order, he imposes it on those who, like Spade, don't obey the rigid binary of upstanding citizen/cowardly criminal. Dundy represents the law that perceives transgressive behavior as inherently criminal, regardless of its motivations or goals. Indeed, Polhaus's "little playmate" "seems heartbroken" when he realizes that Spade's ability to weave together absurdly rigid laws and moral codes ends up being the only truly effective path to apprehending Gutman and his mob of criminals (584); the mocking addition of "little playmate" very clearly insists that the current state of the police department is little more than a bunch of bumbling kids playing cops and robbers, and insists that life gets just as short easily to those who are "good" and those who are "bad". As illustrated by Sam Spade, real work only gets done when the constraints of morality are blurred and subsequently transcended. As it happens, it is neither the climbing Polhaus nor the intransigent Dundy who traps the criminals and ensures justice: no, it is the same blond, morally ambiguous Satan who manages to find a way out of Gutman's plots straddling the line between delinquent and virtuous. As befits the modern age and the modernist quest to abrade traditional thought and behavior, Sam Spade's antics demonstrate the need to transgress boundaries to sift the truth and achieve some semblance of justice. The unnamed character in Frost's villanelle/sonnet “Knowledge of the Night” reflects much of the same conflict inherent in strict obedience to law, order, and tradition. While the person illustrates the external sources of the conflict quite clearly (people shouting at night, unknown individuals following the person, etc.), most of this individual's narrative insists that it is not just for personal safety and pursuit of relatively noble endeavors. (see Sam Spade) attempting to escape the city limits. More than anything, the person flirts with the boundaries of urban light and unknown darkness for personal satisfaction, for the pleasure of solitude, and for the pursuit of potentially illicit behavior. The person, who is "unwilling to explain" (6) his motives and purposes to the policeman he meets, seeks not.