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“the exemplary specimen of an economic ideology” (241). However, by demonstrating that
Robinson Crusoe is “the novel of duration as well as the novel of work” (246), rather than a novel
of technology, Macherey concludes that the origin in the novel “appears expressly as a false origin”(242), or a non-origin. “The elaboration of the theme [of origin] into a complete story effectively divorces the theme from its purpose: the adventure on the island betrays the myth of the island of origins” (247, italics mine). Likewise, framing my interpretation with such a Machereyan reading, I’ve demonstrated that the truth may be divorced from the ratiocinative pattern.
II. Classical Detective Fiction Is Dependent on Ratiocination: A Move Towards Structuralism
Basically, exploring how this narrative rupture will involve gauging the distance between ratiocination and the discovery of the truth in detective fiction. In classical detective fiction,
however, there is hardly any distance between them. In other words, the unsaid has remained unsaid, and the narrative rupture has remained unrepaired. H. Douglas Thompson begins his essay “Masters of Mystery” by stating, “In its simplest form the detective story is a puzzle to be solved, the plot consisting in a logical deduction of the solution from the existing data” (129). And this is how he concludes his essay:
The main ingredient must be logic. If there is to be sensation－and would not for worlds banish it－it should seem rather incidental. All the same, there is quite enough excitement in a problem without calling in the aid of death, crape and flying squads. The logical detective story is the finer form because it recognizes a
technique. The highbrow form wins. (145)
Doubtless, what Thompson refers to as “the simplest form of the detective story” is classical
detective fiction. In his essay, he affirms that a classical detective story must be constructed on logic deduction; sensation or excitement is only meant to spice the story up. Besides, when he claims,
“The highbrow wins,” he literally thinks of the author’s design of the ratiocinative pattern as a yardstick for his or her literary prowess, or the success of the story. By giving priority to the ratiocinative pattern, Thompson actually regards the solution of the mystery, the discovery of the
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truth, the whodunit in the terminology of detective fiction, as the prime value of a classical detective story. That is to say, in his view, the ratiocination and the truth are bound together.
Doyle, perhaps the best-known British classical detective story writer, once said, “People have often asked me whether I knew the end of a Holmes story before I started it. Of course I did.
One could not possibly steer a course if one did not know one’s destination” (Memories and
Adventures, 107). Murch thinks Doyle was highlighting the importance of construction, i.e. the
design of the ratiocinative pattern. “This method of construction [is] so vitally important in a[classical] detective story…the primary importance lies in the complicated, ingenious mechanism
of the plot, which must function exactly as planned” (31, italics mine). According to Murch, in addition to stressing the ingenuity of the scheme, Doyle cared a lot about how the detective ratiocination could get readers to the truth or the whodunit. This is what Murch means by “the mechanism of the plot…must function exactly as planned.”Takao Tsuchiya, a Japanese maestro of classical detective fiction,F45F believed that detective fiction should be a literary genre of “division.” He even devised a formula: The mystery “divided”
by the detective’s ratiocination equals to the solution/truth. That is, it is the author’s duty to make sure that once the truth/whodunit is disclosed, every little detail in the story must be fully accounted for by the detective’s ratiocination. For him, it is the true essence of classical detective fiction (Yang, Foreword, Kage No Kokuhatsu, 21). Judging from his formula, Tsuchiya undoubtedly believes that ratiocination is the only way to the truth in detective fiction. The mystery in Tsuchiya’s Kage No Kokuhatsu, or The Accusation of the Shadow, exemplifies his belief. This novel involves a seemly airtight alibi, which is supported by a photograph. The protagonist, a district attorney, carefully examines the angle of a shadow in the photograph and makes his
inference: the photograph couldn’t have been taken on April 6, the day of the murder, for it was so
45 Like Anglo-American detective fiction, Japanese detective fiction has followed a similar developmental route: from classical to hard-boiled. Bo, Fu states that in 1932, Edogawa Ranpo published his first detective story, not only laying the foundation for Japanese detective fiction but also ushering Japanese detective fiction into its classical period. Seishi Yokomizo (1902-1981), Takao Tsuchiya (1917-2011), Tetsuya Ayukawa (1919-2002), and many other brought classical detective fiction to its peak. In 1957, Seicho Matsumoto (1909-1992) published his first detective novel, The Dot and the Line, which primarily features the social realities of Japan after World War II. The success of The Dot and the Line introduced Japanese detective literature to its hard-boiled period. See Bo, Fu, Introduction, Kage No Kokuhatsu, trans by Qiu Ming, Zhang (Taipei: Apex Press, 2005), p9-11.
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cloudy that day that no shadow could have been cast so clearly (348). Thus, the alibi has been proven falsified.
Another significant instance should be Dorothy L. Sayers, who has inherited the orthodox or prototype of British classical detective fiction (Xie, Introduction, The Nine Tailors, 7-9). In fact,
“Sayers is often grouped with her “golden age” contemporaries, Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, and Ngaio Marsh as one of the “Queens of Crime”…”(Miskimmin, “Dorothy L.
Sayers,” 438). In her 1932 novel, Have His Carcase, the central mystery is the murder of a young man, Alexis, and an alibi is also involved. The cardinal clue is the still-liquid, unclotted blood, which may help to pinpoint the time of his death. However, the protagonist, Lord Peter Wimsey, has discovered another key clue:
Alexis was a haemophilic, you might wait till Kingdom comes, and his blood would never clot at all. Therefore, he may have died at noon or dawn for all we know. As a matter of fact, the blood might end by clotting very slightly after some hours－it depends how badly he had the disease…(441)
Here, Lord Peter Wimsey combines two clues and uses his ratiocinative ability to falsify an alibi and learn the whodunit.
While I am dealing with the characterization of the detective in Chapter Five, I’ve made my point that the narrative rupture has remained unrepaired all the time. And the consequence is that the characterization of the detective constantly oscillates between Reason/Good and Unreason/Evil.
Now, it is a similar case scenario. And this time the consequence is that classical detective fiction is moving towards structuralism.
As I’ve argued previously, the pivot of classical detective fiction is the design of the
ratiocinative pattern or the schema of the clues. We must note that such a design or schema not only can constitute the contents of the story but also may be represented structurally. In The Mystery to a
Solution, John T, Irwin compares a “clue” to a “clew,” a thread “leading to an entrance/exit” of a
labyrinth. For him, clues may function as:‧ 國
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a gradual presentation of his train of thought, a re-telling of the crime or a
re-presentation of the scene that indicates and organizes salient points in a way that might…enable the listener…to anticipate the detective’s conclusions…[or]
hints…[that] characterize a situation…[or] point to the ultimate solution. (195,
italics mine)
Basically, Irwin likens a classical detective story to a labyrinth, and the clues to the clew leading to its exit. Most of all, by synthesizing and analyzing the clues, a detective is able not only to draw a conclusion but also to connect the dots and restructure the case. That is to say, the clues
schematized into a structure can characterize the mystery.
Huang, Xin Sheng also pursues such a structuralist approach. Drawing on Claude
Levi-Strauss’ semiotics, contends that classical detective fiction is based on a system of binary oppositions, which may take the form of doubles, triangles, or quadrangles (The Narratives of Spy
and Detective Fiction, 33). Moreover, classical detective stories often have a definite narrative
structure, which may be formulated as the following five stages: (1) the introduction of the detective;(2) the descriptions of the crime and the clues; (3) the investigation; (4) the solution of the case; (5) the explanation of the detective’s ratiocinative pattern; (6) the denouement (35-6). In “Narrative Structures in Fleming,” Eco also adopts this structuralist approach and posits an in-depth analysis of the narrative structure in Ian Fleming’s spy novels,F46F the well-know James Bond series. According to Eco, such a narrative structure may be examined at five levels: (1) the opposition of characters and of values; (2) play situations and the story as a “game;” (3) a Manichean ideology; (4) literary techniques; (5) literature as collage (96). Undoubtedly, the homology between Huang’s and Eco’s analyses is striking: both of them have highlighted the binary system. Moreover, Huang’s six-stage formula may actually be equated with Eco’s so-called “play situations.”
Poe’s “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” sets the model for a locked-room mystery, as
46 For long, spy fiction has been deemed as an offshoot of the detective fiction genre, for they two do have a lot in common. In “Crime and Spy Genre,” David Seed states, “Spy fiction shares many of the characteristics of detective fiction. It prioritizes investigation; its sphere of action seems to be beyond the law; its characters use aliases and invented identities; typically it progresses from apparently disparate fragments of information towards a more complete account of action.” See David Seed, “Crime and Spy Genre,” A Companion to Crime Fiction, ed by Rzepka and Lee Horsley (Chichester: Blackwell Publishing, 2010), p233.
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mentioned previously. A locked-room mystery may been viewed as a consummate practice of the ratiocinative pattern because “the crime [is] committed in a hermetically sealed room which really is hermetically sealed, and from which no murderer has escaped because no murderer was actually in the room” (Carr, “The Locked-Room Lecture,” 277, italics mine). Irwin is more specific:
A locked-room mystery confronts us with an enclosure that appears, from both inside and outside, to be unopened…Part of the peculiar force of…locked-room detective stories is that they seem to present us with a physical embodiment, a concrete spatialization, of that very mechanism of logical inclusion/exclusion on which rational analysis is based, indeed, present this as an apparent confounding of rational analysis. (180-1)
A locked-room mystery presents us with a case seemly impossible to solve: a crime is committed in an enclosed space where no entry is possible. It seems like a clear defiance of rational
understanding. For a detective, on the other hand, he must rack his brains and use his reasoning ability to its fullest in order to solve the case. That is, to write a good locked-room mystery, the author has to be equipped with immense ingenuity and cleverness to design an elaborate scheme and ratiocinative pattern.
Let’s try to schematize Poe’s “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” into a structure. First, the binary opposition in the story is most obvious: Dupin (the detective, Good, rational reasoning) v.s.
the Ourang-Outang (the murderer, Evil, irrational ferocity). Following the structuralist approach presented by Huang and Eco, I have structurally presented the plot of “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” in the following table:
Stage Contents The Introduction of
the Detective
Dupin’s amazing ratiocinative capability; a young gentleman from an illustrious family but “reduced to such poverty that the energy of his
character beneath it” (50).
The descriptions of the crime and the
clues
Clue # 1: Extraordinary murders at the apartment “in the wildest disorder” (56); the body of the daughter was found in the chimney,
“throttled to death;” “Upon the face were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger nails…”
“in the rear of the building…the corpse of the old lay, with her throat so entirely cut…”(57). “The corpse of the mother was horribly
mutilated ” (63).
Clue# 2: “On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. On the hearth
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were two or three long and thick tresses of gray, also dabbled with blood, and seeming to have been pulled out by the roots” (56-7).
Clue # 3: Nearly four thousand francs in gold were found on the floor Clues #4: “Many individuals have been examined in relation to this most extraordinary and frightful affair” (58). The words “sacre” and
“diable” and a shrill voice were heard. In which language the latter was uttered was unknown.
Clue # 5: Both door were locked from inside; “the chimneys…will not admit…the body of a large cat” (71). “There are two windows in the
chamber;” one of them “is unobstructed by the furniture” and “was found securely fastened from within” (72).
The investigation “The permission was obtained, and we proceeded at once to the Rue Morgue” (66). “Dupin scrutinized every thing－not excepting the bodies of the victims. We then went into the other rooms, and into the
yard…On our way home my companion [Dupin] stepped in for a moment at the office of one of the daily papers” (67, italics mine) The solution of the
case
The murderer was identified as a “large fulvous Ourang-Outang of the East Indian Islands” (80). (The whodunit issue has been resolved.) The explanation of
the detective’s ratiocinative
pattern
Clue # 1: “Think,…how great must have been that strength which could have thrust the body up such an aperture so forcibly” (78) and
shattered the body of the mother.
Clue # 2: The hair was “most unusual” and “no human hair” (79).
Clue #3: The murderer’s motive was not money.
Clue # 4: The murderer’s motive wasn’t money
Clue # 4: “No [human] words－no [human] sounds resembling words
－were by any witness mentioned as distinguishable”(70).
Clue # 5: “Yet the sashes [of the lower window] were fastened…A concealed spring must…exist,” which has “the power of ” fastening
itself. “The assassins must have escaped through the other window…the shutter belonging to the window at the head of the bed, would, if swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet of the
lightening-rod” (72-5, italics mine).
Conclusion: “The gigantic stature, the prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, and the imitative propensities of theses mammalia are
sufficiently well-known to all” (80). The murder was committed by an Ourang-Outang.
The denouement The Ourang-Outang was obtained by the Jardin des Plantes. Le Bon was instantly released.
The table above is an illustration of the structuralist approach adopted by Huang and Eco. We have to note that the clues and the detective ratiocination must be perfectly symmetrical. It simply echoes Tsuchiya’s theory: “the mystery “divided” by the detective’s ratiocination equals to the solution/truth.” Every clue, after fully accounted for, must be used to support the detective’s ratiocination. It is the underlying principle of classical detective fiction.
In Story Logic, David Herman identifies one of the contributing factors of communication as
“a set of socially defined contexts in which options made available…” (205). Poe opted for a
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puzzle-like form for his detective stories, and this is how he created the genre. James Phelan, in
Narrative as Rhetoric, claims that
for the purpose of interpreting narratives, the approach assumes that texts are designed by authors in order to affect readers in particular ways…and that reader responses are a function of and, thus, a guide to how designs are created through textual and intertextual phenomena. At the same time, reader responses are also a test of the efficacy of those designs. (4)
To frame classical detective fiction with Phelan’s claim, we must ask: how do readers get affected by classical detective fiction? And what are their responses? Dennis Porter thinks that “a detective novel’s length is determined …by the need to promote in a reader the excitement of some
combination of the suspense of fear and the suspense of an unanswered question” (“Backward Construction and the Art of Suspense,” 339). This is how classical detective fiction affects readers:
getting readers excited and keeping them in suspense. As for readers’ response, Freeman argues,
“The distinctive quality of a detective story …is that the satisfaction that it offers to the reader is primarily an intellectual satisfaction…[and it also offers] an exhibition of mental gymnastics in which he [the reader] is invited to take part” (11, italics mine). In Chapter Two I’ve quoted Freeman to argue for the logic construction of detective fiction. Apparently, Freeman thinks that (classical) detective fiction must aim at inviting readers to solve the mystery with the detective, from which readers can derive intellectual satisfaction. (This is probably why some critics, such as Michel Sirvent, asserts that “the writer is certainly the author of the crime, and the reader the
detective of the text” (Reader-Investigators in the Post-Nouveau Roman,” 162).) If so, then classical detective fiction is just like a mind game between readers and the detective. “The unending
variability of a single [classical detective] story would then appear to be in the same class as that of chess or of a card game” (Heissenbüttel, “Rules of the Game of the Crime Novel,” 92, italics mine).
That is, the dynamics of this mind game would be transformed into the creative energy the author harnesses to construct the schema of the story. And according to Phelan, the greater the dynamics are, the more inventive the schema of the story would be, and the more affected readers will
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These rules can also be deemed as the guidelines for structuring the storyline. One of the paradigms of the rules is S. S. Van Dine’s “Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories:” (1) The reader must have equal opportunity with the detective for solving the mystery. (2) No willful tricks or
deceptions may be placed on the reader. (3) There must be no love interest. (4) The detective himself should never turn out to be the culprit. (5) The culprit must be determined by logical deductions. (6) The detective novel must have a detective in it. (7) There must be a corpse in a detective novel. (8) The crime must be solved by strictly naturalistic means. (9) There must be but one detective. (10) The culprit must turn out to be a person. (11) A servant must not be chosen by the author to be the culprit. (12) There must be but one culprit. (13) A secret societies, camorras, et al., have no place in a detective story. (14) The method of murder, and the means of detecting it, must be rational and scientific. (15) The truth of the problem must at all times be apparent. (16) There should be no long descriptive passages, no literary dallying with side-issues, no subtly
worked-out character analyses, no “atmospheric” preoccupations. (17) A professional criminal must never be shouldered with the guilt of the crime. (18) A crime should never turn out to be an accident or a suicide. (19) The motives should be personal (20) No self-respecting detective-story writer should avail himself of the devices: the butt of a cigarette; the bogus spiritualistic séance; forged fingerprints; the dog that doesn’t bark; the dummy-figure alibi; the scheme of a twin or a relative that looks alike; the hypodermic syringe and the knock-out drop, etc.F47F
The point is that once detective fiction writing was restricted by these rules, the whole genre
47 Another paradigm would be Ronald a. Knox’s “A Detective Story Decalogue:” (1) The criminal must be someone mentioned in the early part of the story. (2) All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course.
(3) No more than one secret room or passage is allowable. (4) No hitherto undiscovered poisons may be used. (5) No Chinaman must figure in the story. (6) No accident or an unaccountable intuition must ever help the detective. (7) The detective himself must not commit the crime. (8) The detective must not light on any clues which are not instantly produced for the reader. (9) The stupid friend of the detective must not concealed any thought. (10) Twin brothers or doubles must not appear unless readers are prepared for them. Another noticeable instance is the Detection Club Oath.
The Detection Club was founded in 1928, and its initiation include taking the Oath, which consists of a set of must-follow rules mostly overlapping those of Van Dine’s or Knox’s. See Ronald A. Knox, “Detective Story
Decalogue,” The Art of Mystery Story, ed by Howard Haycraft (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1946), p194-6. Howard Haycraft, “The Detection Club Oath,” The Art of Mystery Story, ed by Haycraft (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1946), p197-9.
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would inevitably be rendered rule-bound and formulaic. Eventually, its development would be bottlenecked:
Obviously, thirty years of production of classic criminal novels have exhausted the motifs and made the types rigid and the titles stereotyped, so that the uncreative, ever-recurring method of portrayal has given the classic criminal novel the characteristics of a barren system. (Kaemmel, 60-10)
Obviously, thirty years of production of classic criminal novels have exhausted the motifs and made the types rigid and the titles stereotyped, so that the uncreative, ever-recurring method of portrayal has given the classic criminal novel the characteristics of a barren system. (Kaemmel, 60-10)