I watched an interesting video recently about metamodernism, a relatively recent term used to describe cinema from the 21st century. The video surprised me because a lot of the information I was seeing reminded me of works in the mystery genre. I believe mystery-writing falls into the same creative movements, which can account for how certain authors approach the genre and why some of their works falls flat for me.
If you want to get a full grasp of “metamodern” as a term, I recommend watching the video, because I don’t think I can explain it well. Essentially, metamodernism is a follow-up to the post-modernist movement, which itself stems from modernism. So the order is modernism, then postmodernism, and finally metamodernism.
(Addendum: It has come to my attention that these terms, as used in the video, are tied more closely to film than literature and are far too complicated to generalize in one paragraph. As a result, I’ve taken out some of my later applications of them to the mystery sphere, which were inaccurate. I recommend watching the video linked at the top for a more detailed perspective, and to keep in mind that as metamodernism is an emerging movement that’s yet to be widely recognized, my conclusions are best taken with a grain of salt.)
Modernism isn’t that modern. Many of its movies came from the time of the war and focused on clear, desirable themes. The lines between hero and villain are very clear. Old westerns typically fit this genre, but for a more recent example, look no further than Tom Gun: Maverick. In these films, everything is exactly as it seems.
Postmodernism emerged as a rejection of modernist beliefs, generally viewing the world as a more depressing place. It rejects all forms of simplicity and easy explanations, turning instead to irony and moral relativism. Often these stories can be unsettling, making the audience question what they see. Compared to more typical Westerns, an obvious postmodern example is No Country for Old Men.
At first, it’s hard to see the distinction between postmodern and metamodern, since the latter doesn’t outright reject the former. Rather, it blends postmodernism with modernism, often oscillating between these perspectives. Per the “meta,” these stories are often self-referential, referring back to generations of creative work to construct meaning. Traces of this can be found in any modern works that utilize parallel universes, but the most obvious example is Everything, Everywhere, All At Once. In this movie, what would otherwise be an amusing nod to Ratatouille becomes a major thematic element used to deliver a positive message.
A ridiculously simplistic summary: modernism argues life has meaning, postmodernism disagrees, while metamodernism is off in a corner, declaring that if life doesn’t matter we might as well have fun before it ends.
So how does this relate to mystery fiction? Well, I believe that ever since the Golden Age, mystery stories have gone through a three-part transformation of their own, each phase corresponding to one of these movements. Obviously, the Golden Age itself is modernist. Afterwards, we moved into postmodernism, as the howdunnit was rejected for the whydunnit and thrillers began to dominate the market. Now, the howdunnit is seeing a resurgence, but Golden Age fans are often disappointed by modern work. That’s because the Golden Age is long gone, and we’re in the age of the metamodern mystery.
So what’s the metamodern mystery? It should hopefully be clear at this point. Metamodern mysteries re-examine the tropes and themes of the Golden Age, without rejecting them. At the same time, they acknowledge what made post-modern works so popular. And, of course, they are incredibly self-referential.
When it comes to identifying a book as metamodern, callbacks to the Golden Age are an obvious fingerprint. If you look at modern locked room mystery, this trait is hard to miss. For example, Gigi Pandian’s Secret Staircase series often brings up Golden Age authors like John Dickson Carr, and even simplifies his locked room lecture, identifying misdirection as the heart of any trick. Pietro de Palma’s “The Barese Mystery” essentially involves a locked room fanatic like himself (an Italian blogger) jumping at the chance to solve his favorite kind of mystery. Examples are everywhere in shin-honkaku. Take The Decagon House Murders, with its characters named after Golden Age greats, or Death Among the Undead, which obliquely references Nakamura Seiji. The examples are endless!
Some critics might argue these references add nothing to the book other than alienating new readers, but I disagree. First of all, they suggest new books for you to seek out. I was introduced to Paul Halter by Gigi Pandian, for instance. Second of all, they prove your author is well-read. Nothing hurts more than a locked room mystery that ends in a secret passage (or a straight-up suicide, Fforde!), so you can trust the author at least mostly knows what they’re doing, even when they take the story in unexpected directions.
Each of these stories puts a new twist on the Golden Age formula (well, maybe not de Palma’s, but he’s having fun so leave him alone). Pandian fills her stories with interesting characters, focusing on themes of family rather than justice. In Death Among the Undead, Imamura deconstructs tropes such as the Busman’s Holiday and even brings in zombies and their own tropes, blending together two unique genres. The Decagon House Murders plays with your expectations of what elements of a narrative you can trust.
That’s why when authors play the Golden Age straight, I find myself disappointed. This has been my main criticism with Paul Halter. While his puzzles are clever, his books are as counter-culture as Top Gun: Maverick. He’s a modernist writer at heart, and his work doesn’t take any cues from postmodernism to create new meaning.
However, metamodern mysteries can manifest in many ways. The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle in an obvious example, perhaps the Everything, Everywhere, All At Once of the mystery genre. At its core, we have a simple Golden Age puzzle, approached by a detective living through a chaotic, repeating day. Yet through the noise, he discovers something new about himself and finds a new reason to live.
Or how about Anthony Horowitz’s Magpie Murders, which essentially mashes together a modernist and postmodernist mystery to create a new masterpiece? Throughout this book and the sequel, old tropes are used to their full extent to confuse and surprise us, while ending on a positive note.
Or on the big screen, we have Rian Johnson’s Knives Out—a classic whodunnit in a Christie-esque manor, with an execution that keeps you on your toes. And then in Glass Onion, Johnson’s mystery is driven by COVID-19 and the rise of tech billionaires, with a solution that rejects and accepts Golden Age plotting while promoting revolution.
And for pure, untempered metamodern, look to self-publishing. The work of DWaM always has a fair puzzle, but beyond that no guarantees are made. What you read could mean nothing or everything, but at least you’ll have fun.
The message is clear. The Golden Age is over, but the whodunnit is at last being reclaimed. There are many more examples I would give, if I’d read them yet. From Imamura’s later work, to Jim Noy’s The Red Death Murders, which reimagines a Poe classic, to Tom Mead’s Death and the Conjurer, bringing Clayton Rawson’s most famous work to the modern-age. I’m excited to see what the future has in store. From new masterpieces to long overdue translations, I feel mystery fans are living in the perfect generation (aside from the whole sinking planet thing). I hope to contribute with my own voice as well.
The metamodern mystery is what you make of it. It’s a celebration of many decades of creation, of the wondrous moment of epiphany that brings us back, time and time again. Where every author is compared to Christie, and every detective is a ferocious reader, and questions remain to answer once the killer is uncovered. And best of all, both author and reader will have a great time.
So, long live the metamodern mystery!
Stephen M. Pierce 