While primarily focusing on Detective stories as a genre and briefly tracing its origins and characteristics, Michael Holquist’s essay “Whodunit and other questions: Metaphysical detective stories in post-war fiction” tackles the issue of the fusion between high and low art as a prominent characteristic of Postmodernism. I think his argument about the “pattern of reassurance” as a sophisticated form of a happy ending is interesting. From the way he describes it, it appears to be a common denominator in the different forms of literary kitsch. Another tendency is the shortcut they take to the “catharsis,” by skipping the “pain” and “tragedy,” which denies the reader a full experience and possible meaning. These features render such works as merely quick and easy crowed pleasers, as opposed to high art that may not be accessible to the majority. Taking this into consideration, the “red herrings” that have been used in the “The Crying of 49” begin to make a little more sense to me. Similar to Oedipa’s confusion in her search for clues and their meaning, the novel suggests allusions that can be misleading to the reader who is expectant of an easy answer. Also the toying of the author in his dealing with the relationship between signifier and signified is an effort to mislead the presumptuous reader; while the names can be telling of character as talked about in a few of this week’s posts, there are some names like “Dr. Hilarius” that seem to me sort of pointless, or maybe I’m being too cynical.
In “Postmodernism, or the cultural logic of late capitalism,” Jameson describes the canonization and academic institutionalization of the modern movement as a plausible explanation of the emergence of postmodernism. Postmodernism subsequently rejects the complete focus on what is thought to be high art by creating a bridge between high art and popular art, as Holquist mentions. The inclusion of the polar opposites is evident in “The Crying of Lot 49” as we are introduced to “Paranoid,” a pot smoking band who write songs like, “Lonely girl in your lonely flat, well, that’s where it’s at, so hush your lonely cry,” and later an opposite representation is seen in the play Oedipa attends that causes her to visit a university professor for clarification on the play, which reinforces Jameson’s statement about the control of institutions on art.