1986 - Mysteries We Reread, Mysteries of Rereading. Poe, Borges, And the Analytic Detective Story....

7/24/2019 1986 - Mysteries We Reread, Mysteries of Rereading. Poe, Borges, And the Analytic Detective Story. Also Lacan,

1/49

Mysteries We Reread, Mysteries of Rereading: Poe, Borges, and the Analytic Detective Story;

Also Lacan, Derrida, and JohnsonAuthor(s): John T. IrwinSource: MLN, Vol. 101, No. 5, Comparative Literature (Dec., 1986), pp. 1168-1215Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2905715.

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2/49

Mysteries

We

Reread,Mysteries

of

Rereading:

Poe,

Borges, nd

the

Analytic

Detective tory;Also Lacan,Derrida,

and

Johnson*

John

.

Irwin

I

Let me

startwith a simple-minded

question:

How does one write

analytic

detective fiction

s

high

art when

the genre's basic

struc-

ture,

ts central narrativemechanism,

eems to

discourage

the

un-

limitedrereading associated

with

serious writing?

That is,

if

the

point

of an analytic

detectivestory s the

deductive solution

of

a

mystery,

ow does the writer

keep

the achievement

f that olution

from

exhausting

the reader's

interest

n

the story?

How

does he

writea work that can be reread by people other than those

with

poor memories?

use the term

"analyticdetectivefiction"

here

to

distinguish

he genre invented

by Poe

in

the Dupin tales of the

1840s

from

stories

whose main character s

a detective

but whose

main concern

is not analysis

but adventure, stories

whose true

genre

is less

detective

fictionthan

quest

romance,

as

one of the

masters

of the adventure

mode, Raymond

Chandler,

implicitly c-

knowledged

when he

gave

the name Mallory

to an

early

prototype

of his

detectivePhilip

Marlowe.

For

Chandler,

theprivate

nvesti-

gatorsimplyrepresents plausible formofmodernknight-errant.

*

A

shorter

version

of

this

essay

was delivered

at the

annual

meeting

of the

Poe

Studies

Association

in

1981

at

the

kind invitation

of Kent

Ljungquist

and

Ben

Fisher.

The

essay

s

part

of a

book entitled

The

Mystery

o

Solution:

oe, Borges,

nd

theAnalytic

etective

tory resently

eing completed.

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp


3/49

M

L

N

1169

In his essay

"The

Simple Artof Murder,"

he says that

a detective

story s

the detective's

adventure

n

search

of a hidden

truth, nd

it would

be no adventure if

it did not

happen to a man fit for

adventure."' The emphasis

in Chandler's remarks, s

in his fiction,

is on the

detective's

haracterand his adventures,

withthe revela-

tion of

a hidden truth imply

ervingas a

device to illuminate he

former nd motivate

the latter.

But in the pure analytic

detective

story he

matter s

otherwise.As a character,

Dupin is

as thin s the

paper

he's printed

on. As for his adventures,they

mountto little

more than reading

newspaper

accounts of the crime

and talking

with the Prefect of police and the narrator n the privacyof his

apartment.

What gives

the analyticdetective

genre

its special ap-

peal

is that

quality

which the Goncourt brothers

noted on

first

readingPoe. In an

1856 ournal

entry heydescribed

Poe's stories

as

"a

new literary

world"

bearing

"signs

of

the

literature

of the

twentiethentury-love

givingplace to

deductions

.. the nterest

of the storymoved

fromtheheart to the

head. ..

from he drama

to the solution."2Preciselybecause

it is a genre

that

grows

out of

an

interest

n

deductions

and

solutions rather than

in

love and

drama,theanalyticdetective tory hows ittle nterestncharacter,

managingat best

to produce caricatures-those

monsters f idio-

syncrasy

rom Holmes to Poirot.

In

its purest form

t

puts

all

its

eggs

in

the basket

of

plot,

and a specialized

kind of

plot

at that.

The problem

is that this basket

seems to be one that

can be emp-

tied

in

a singlereading.

Related

to this

difficulty

s

another.

If

the

writerdoes

his work

properly,

f

he

succeeds

in

buildingup

a sense of

the mysterious,

of

some

dark

secret

or intricately

nottedproblem,then he

has to

face the fact that there simplyexists no hidden truth or guilty

knowledge whose revelation

will not

seem

anticlimactic ompared

to

an antecedent sense

ofmysterynd the

infinite peculativepos-

sibilities

t

permits.

Borges, one

of

the

contemporary

masters

of

the

analyticdetective tory, cknowledges

this difficulty

n his

tale

"Ibn

Hakkan al-Bokhari,

Dead

in His

Labyrinth."

He says

thatone

of

his characters,

"steeped

in detectivestories,

thought

that the

solution

of

a mysterys always

less impressive

than the mystery

itself."3

ut if

in

the analyticdetective

tory he solution

s

always

in some sense an anticlimaxthat in dissipatingthe mystery x-

hausts

the story's

nterest for us,

an interest

n

speculative

rea-

soning

which the

mystery mpowers,

then

how does one

write

his

kind

of

story s a serious,

that

s,

rereadable, literary

orm? How



4/49

1170

JOHN

T. IRWIN

does one

both present

theanalytic olution of

a

mystery

nd at

the

same timeconservethe sense of the mysterious n which analysis

thrives?

Given

the

predictable

economy

of a critical

essay,

I think

the

reader is

safe in assuming that

if

I

didn't consider

Poe's

Dupin

storiesto

be, on theone hand,

archetypes

f

analytic

detective

fic-

tion, and

on

the

other,

serious literary

works

that demand

and

repay rereading,

there

would be

no

reason

for

my evoking

at

this

length the

apparent

incompatibility

f

these

modes

and thus the

writer's roblem

n

reconciling

hem.

All

of which

brings

me

to

the

task of uncrumplingthatmuch crumpled thing"The Purloined

Letter"

to consider the way

that

this

problem

of a

mystery

with

a

repeatable

solution,

a solution that

conserves

because

it

endlessly

refigures)

he

sense

of the

mysterious,

ies at the

veryorigin

of the

analyticdetective tory.

II

My approach to "The Purloined Letter"will be along what has

recently ecome

a well-worn

path.

I

want to look

briefly t three

readings

of the story hat

form a cumulative series

of

interpreta-

tions, each successive

reading commenting

both on the story nd

on

the previous reading(s)

in the series.

They areJacques Lacan's

"Seminar

on

'The

Purloined Letter'" (1957), Jacques

Derrida's

"The Purveyor

of Truth" (1975),

and Barbara Johnson's

"The

Frame

of

Reference:

Poe, Lacan, Derrida" (1978).

Each of these

essays presents

a

lengthy, omplex

argument

n

which "The Pur-

loined Letter" is treated as a pretext,which is to say, read as a

parable

of

the

act of

analysis.

However,

I

am not

so much inter-

ested

here

in

following

he

convolutions

of

their ndividual argu-

mentsas in isolating

thread that runs throughall three, clue

to

conduct us through abyrinthine

assages. And that

thread is the

position

that

each essay

takeson what we might all

the numerical/

geometrical

tructure f the

story.

Let us begin

with

Lacan. He says

that the

story

onsists

of

"two

scenes,

the

first

f which

we

shall

straightway

esignatetheprimal

scene, and by no means inadvertently,ince the second may be

considered its repetition."4

he

first

r primal scene

takes place in

"the

royalboudoir" p.

41), the second

scene in "the Minister's

f-

fice"

p. 42).

And

according

to Lacan, each of these scenes

has

a

triangular

tructure: ach is

composed

of "three

logical

moments"



5/49

M

L N

1171

(p. 43)

"structuring

hreeglances,

borne

by three

subjects,

ncar-

nated

each time

by different

haracters":

The

firsts a glance

hat ees

nothing:he King

nd

thepolice.

The second,

glancewhich ees

that

he firstees

nothing

nd de-

ludes tself

s to

thesecrecyf

what t hides:

theQueen,

then heMin-

ister.

The

third ees

that

he

first wo

glanceseave

what hould

behidden

exposed

to whoeverwould eize

t: theMinister,

nd finally

upin.

(p.

44)

Thus in the

royalboudoir,

the

King does not

see the

incriminating

letterwhich the Queen in her haste has hidden in the open,

leaving

t with ts address uppermost

n

plain

sight

on a table.

And

the

Queen, seeing

that theKing

doesn't see

the

letter,

mistakeshis

blindness

for the letter's

oncealment,

thus

eaving

herselfvulner-

able

to

the

Minister

who sees

both

the

King's glance

and the

Queen's

and

realizes that

the letter can

be seized before

the

Queen's

very eyes

preciselybecause

she

dare

not do anything

o

attract he King's

attention

o it.

Similarly

n

the second scene,

at

the Minister's

residence,

the letter,

having

been turned

inside out

and readdressed

in a female hand,

is once again

hidden

in

plain

sight

n a

card

rack

on

the mantelpiece.

And this time

the

police,

who

have searched

the

Minister's uarters

repeatedly

without

no-

ticing

the letter,represent

that first

glance

which sees nothing;

while the Minister,

who mistakes he

blindness

of the

police

forthe

concealment

of the letter,

epresents

he second

glance,

and Dupin

represents

the third glance

that sees

what the

first wo miss, .e.,

that the letter

hidden

in

theopen

is

his for the

taking.

The

figure

who participates n both these triangularscenes is the Minister,

and his

shifting

rom the position

of

the

third

glance

in

the initial

scene

to

that

of the second

glance

in

its

repetition

xhibits hespe-

cial

vulnerability

o

self-delusion,

o a

blind

spot,

which the

posses-

sion

of the letter

onveys.

Consider,

now,

Derrida's

critique

of

this

reading, keeping

in

mind

that

n his

essay

"The

Purveyor

of Truth" Derrida

is moti-

vated less

by

an interest

n Poe

or

"The

Purloined Letter"

than

by

a

desire

to score

points

offLacan.

As

Johnson

points

out,

Derrida,

in

a lengthy ootnote ohis bookPositions,ketches heargument hat

will

become

"The

Purveyor

of

Truth" and cites

in this context

Lacan's

multiple

"actsof aggression"

gainst

him

since the

publica-

tion

of

De la

grammatologie

n

Critique

n 1965.5

Obviously,

Derrida

takes

the case

of "The

Purloined Letter"

for one

of

the

same



6/49

1172

JOHNT. IRWIN

reasons

that Dupin

did-the Minister once

did Dupin

"an evil

turn" (Poe, 3: 993)

at Vienna,

and Dupin sees the

affair of the

letter s an opportunity o geteven. The witof Derrida's essay ies

in the waythat t uses

Lacan's

reading of "The Purloined

Letter"

against

itself,

for

if

Lacan

believes

that with

his

interpretation

f

the story

he has, as it were, gained

possession

of

Poe's

"Purloined

Letter,"

has made its

meaninghis own, then

Derrida

will howhim

that the

possession

of that letter,

as Lacan himself

pointed out,

brings

with t a blind spot. In

his essay

Derrida setsout to repeat

the encounter

betweenDupin

and the Minister

withhimself

n

the

role of Dupin and Lacan in the role of theMinister.

Derrida

attacks Lacan's reading

of the story

on a

variety

of

points,

but the one that concerns

us has to do

withLacan's notion

of

the triangular

structureof

each of the two scenes

in

the tale.

Derrida

agrees thatthe story onsists

f two

scenes, butnot the

two

on which Lacan focusses.He

points out that

the scene

in

the royal

boudoir

and

the subsequent scene

at the Minister's

residence

are

two

narrated

scenes

within the

framing

rtifice

f

the

story,

but

that the

story tself onsists of

two

scenes

of narration-the

first

scene being the Prefect's nitialvisit to Dupin during which the

Prefect

recounts

the events in the royal

boudoir, and the second

scene

being the

Prefect's ubsequent

visitduring

which

Dupin

re-

counts

the events

at the Minister's

residence.

While the narrators

of

the

two

narratedcenes

n

the royal

boudoir

and at

the

Minister's

residence are respectively

he

Prefect nd Dupin,

the narrator

of

the

two

scenes f

narration t

Dupin's lodgings

s

Dupin's

unnamed

companion.

Thus,

according

to

Derrida,

Lacan reduces

the four-

sided structure

f the scene of narration-what

Derrida calls "the

scene of writing"-to the three-sided structureof the narrated

scene

"by overlooking

the narrator's

position,

the narrator's

n-

volvement

n the

content of

what he

seems

to be

recounting."6

n

ignoring

the presence of the

narrator of

"The Purloined Letter,"

Lacan cuts "a

fourthside" out of the

narrated figure "to leave

merely riangles" p.

54). And he does this,

ays

Derrida, precisely

because as a psychoanalyst,

acan

projects

upon Poe's story

the

structure

f the

Oedipal triangle

n his

desire

to

read "The

Pur-

loined Letter"

as an allegoryof psychoanalysis

r

"an allegory f

the

signifier"Johnson,p. 115).

Now since

in

his

critique

of Lacan's

interpretation

f "The

Pur-

loined Letter" Derrida aims

to

get

even

with Lacan by being

one

up

on

him,

and since

Lacan

in his

reading

of the numerical

struc-



7/49

M L N

1173

ture of the tale has

already

played the numbers

one, two,

and

three the

tale is composed

of two scenes,

the second

of which,by

repeatingthe triangular tructure f the first, reates a sameness

or oneness between

the two),

then being one up on

Lacan means

playing

the next open number

(four);

and that is what Derrida

does

in

arguing that

the

structure

f

the scenes

is not triangular

but quadrangular.

However, whether Derrida

arrives

at this qua-

drangular

structure y

adding one

to threeor bydoubling two s

a

problematicpoint,

a point on

which Johnsonfocusses

n her

cri-

tique

of

Lacan's and Derrida's

readings

of the tale's numerical

structure.

As Johnson

notes,

Derrida objects to

the triangular

structure

which Lacan sees

in the repeated scenes

because

this tructure, e-

rived

from the Oedipal triangle,

represents

n Derrida's opinion

a

characteristic sychoanalytic

ttempt

to dismiss or absorb the

un-

canny

effects f doubling,

a doubling

which

Derrida

maintains

s

everywhere

present

n

the tale. Doubling tends,

of

course,

to be

a

standard element

of the analyticdetective

tory,

n

that the usual

method

of

apprehending

thecriminal

nvolves he detective's ou-

blingthe criminal's thoughtprocesses so as to anticipatehis next

move and

end up

one jump

ahead of

him.

And,

of

course,

the

numberassociated

with

doubling

is usually

four rather than two,

for

what

we refer

o as

doubling

is

almost

always plitting

nd dou-

bling.

Which

is

to

say,

the figure

of the

double externally

dupli-

cates

an

internal

division

in

the protagonist's

self

(but with the

master/slave olarity

f thatdivision

characteristicallyeversed),

o

thatdoubling tends

to

be a structure

f four

halves problematically

balanced across the

inner/outer

imit

of

the self

rather than

a

structureof two separate, opposing wholes. Thus in the first

Dupin

story, The

Murders

in

the

Rue Morgue," the

narrator

ays

thatwhile observing

Dupin

in the exercise

of

his "peculiar

analytic

ability,"

e entertained

the

fancy

f a

double

Dupin-the

creative

and

the

resolvent"

n

accordance

with "the old

philosophy

of the

Bi-Part Soul"

(2:

533).

And in "The Purloined

Letter" the Min-

ister,

s both

poet

and mathematician,

s represented

s havingthis

same dual

intellectual

power.

In matchingwits

with the

Minister,

Dupin

first

doubles

the Minister's thought processes-a

mental

operation that Dupin illustrates by telling the story of the

schoolboy

who

always

won at the game

of

even

and

odd-and

he

then replays,that is, temporally

doubles,

the scene

in which

the

Minister

originally

eized the letter,

but with himself

now

in

the



8/49

1174

JOHN

T. IRWIN

Minister'srole, thus shifting

he

Minister

nto

the role

played by

the Queen in

the original event

and

evoking

the

destabilizingre-

versal-into-the-oppositenherent n doubling.

As

Johnson notes, Derrida thinks that "the problem with

psy-

choanalytical

triangularity .

.

is

not that it contains the wrong

number of

terms,but that t

presupposes the possibility f a suc-

cessful dialectical mediation and

harmonious

normalization,

or

Aufhebung,f

desire. The three terms

n

the Oedipal triad enter

into an

opposition whose resolutionresembles the syntheticmo-

ment of a Hegelian dialectic" p.

122). But that syntheticmoment,

thatsuccessfuldialecticalmediationofdesire, s preciselywhat the

uncanny

destabilizing ffect

f

doubling constantly ubverts,

or n

the Oedipal

triangle each of the

three positions functions s one

pole

of

a

mutually

constitutive

pposition

with one

of

the other

positions nd thus each position s

subject to being reversed

nto

ts

opposite.

There

exists

n

the Oedipal

triangle, hen,

no

privileged

position that

s above

or

outside the uncanny effects f

doubling,

no

exempt,

objective position

fromwhich

to mediate

or

regularize

the

subjective

nteraction f

the other

two

positions.

As withDerrida's reading ofLacan, the witof Johnson'sreading

of

Derrida

lies

in

the

way that

she

doubles

Derrida's own

insights

back upon

themselves o make them

problematic.Thus in dealing

with

Derrida's attempt to be one

up

on Lacan

by

playing the

number four

to Lacan's three,Johnson assimilatestheir

opposed

readings

of

the numerical structure

f

the tale

to

thegame of even

and

odd,

the

game

which

Dupin

proposed

as an illustration

f

the

way that

one doubles the thoughtprocesses of an

opponent

in

order to be one

jump

ahead

of

him.

Derrida

opts

for a

quadran-

gular structure, hat s,he playstheeven numberfour, norder to

evoke the

uncanniness, the oddness

of

doubling; while

Lacan opts

for

a

triangular structure

by playing

the odd number

three,

in

order to

enforce theregularizing

or

normalizing ffect

f the dia-

lectical

triad.

In

this game of even and

odd,

Derrida

and

Lacan

end

up

as

reciprocal opposites,

as

specular

doubles

of

one another:

Derrida

asserts

the

oddness of

evenness,

while Lacan affirms he

evenness

of

oddness.

Given

the

destabilizing

reversal-into-the-op-

posite inherent

n

doubling, Johnson

sees the

opposition between

Derrida's and Lacan's interpretations s an "oscillation" between

the

former's

"unequivocal

statementsof undecidability" nd the

latter's

ambiguous assertions

of

decidability" p. 146).

As to

Johnson's

own

position

on

"The

Purloined

Letter,"

her



9/49

M

L

N

1175

reading of

Lacan and Derrida is meant

to freeher fromhaving

to

take a position

on thenumerical structure

f the tale,

or

more ex-

actly, o free her fromhavingto take a numerical ositionon that

structure. he does

not intend,

forexample, to play the

next open

number

(five); for since

she has reduced Lacan's

and Derrida's

readings

of the numerical structure

of the story

to the specular

game of even and odd,

there

exist only

two numerical

positions

that one can take on

that structure-even

or odd-and

these,

Johnsoncontends,have

already been

played byDerrida

and

Lacan

without nyclear conclusion.

Johnson's

strategys to call into

ques-

tion the whole concern

withnumbers.

At

one point

she

asks,

"But

can what is at stake here reallybe reduced to a mere numbers

game?",

and a bit later

she answers,"Clearly,

n

these questions,

the

very

notion of a number becomes problematic,

nd the argu-

ment

on the basis of numbers can

no longer be

read literally"p.

121). As

Johnson sees it, taking a position

on thenumerical

struc-

ture

of

the tale means,

for Lacan and Derrida,

taking

numerical

position,choosing

a number,

but that means playing

the

game

of

even and odd, the game

of

trying

o be one

up

on a

specular,

an-

titheticaldouble. And playing that game means endlessly re-

peating

the

structureof "The Purloined

Letter"

in which

being

one up inevitably eads

to being

one down. For

if

the structure

created

by the repeated scenes

in the tale involves doubling

the

thought

processes of one's opponent

in

order

to use

his own

methods

againsthim-as Dupin does

with he

Minister, s Derrida

does

with

Lacan,

and as

Johnson

does

with Derrida-then

the

very

method

by

which one

outwits

one's opponent,

by

which

one

comes

out

one up

on

him,

is the same method

that

will

be em-

ployed against oneself by the next player in the game, the next

interpreter

n the series,

in

order

to leave the

preceding inter-

preter

one down.

Is it

possible,then,

to interpret

The Purloined Letter"

without

duplicating

in

the interpretive

ct thatreversal-into-the-opposite

inherent

n

the mechanism

of

seizing

the letter s

that

mechanism

is described

n

the tale?

Is it

possible

to

generate

an insightwithout

a

blind

spot

in

it,

a flaw that allows the

insight ubsequently

o

be

turned

against

itself?

Clearly,

the desire

for such an invulnerable

insight s at work nJohnson'sessayand accounts forthe at times

disconcerting

evel of self-consciousness

which she tries

to main-

tain

regarding

her own methodological

stance,her

own critical s-

sumptions.

For

Johnson

the refusal

to take a numericalposition

on



10/49

1176

JOHN

T. IRWIN

the

structure

f the

tale,

i.e.,

to

play

the next open

number,

s

an

effortto avoid the game of tryingto be one up by adding the

number

one to

the opponent's

numerical

position,

s Derrida does

in playingthe

number

four to Lacan's

three; for that game

will

simply

turn into an oscillation

between

even and odd running

to

infinity.

ut is

it

possible

forJohnson

to avoid

becoming

involved

in this numbers

game

simply

by refusing

to choose

a

specific

number

with

which to

characterize the

geometrical/numerical

structureof

the tale?

Doesn't

the

very

form of her essay-as

a

critique

of

Derrida's

critique

of Lacan's

reading

of "The

Purloined

Letter"-involve her in thenumbersgame? In situatingher essay

as

the third

n a series

of three critical readings, Johnson

places

herself

n that

thirdposition

which,

n

the structure

overning

he

wandering

of the purloined

letter,

s

the position

of maximum

n-

sight,

but

also the position

n whichthe observer

s

subject

to

mis-

taking

his

insight

oncerning

the

subjective

nteraction

f the

other

two

glances

for an

objective

viewpoint

bove such

interaction.

And

indeed,

how are

we to describe

the relationship

betweenJohnson's

interpretation

nd those

of Lacan

and Derrida?

Are

they

inked

n

a triangular tructure n which Lacan and Derrida face off as an-

tithetical oubles,

whileJohnson,

by

refusing

to become

involved

in

the game

of even

and odd,

occupies

a

position

of

"successful

dialectical mediation"

above

them,

a

Hegelian

synthesis

f their

positions?

Or are they

involved

in

a

quadrangular

structure

n

which Lacan

and

Derrida

are reciprocal

halves

of one

pole

of a

mutually

onstitutive

pposition (i.e.,

the pole

of

trying

o be one

up

on

a

specular

double),

while

Johnson

occupies

the other

pole

of

this

opposition

by

doubling

back Lacan's

and Derrida's

methods

against them in order to avoid this game of one up? Indeed,

Johnson's

final

comment

on

her

own methodology

invokes the

image

of

Derrida's

quadrangular

frame:

". . .

my

own theoretical

'frame

of reference'

s precisely,

o a very

arge

extent, he

writings

of

Lacan and

Derrida. The frame

s thus

framed

again

by

part

of

its content;

the sender again

receives

his own message

backward

from

the receiver"

p. 146).

Johnson's

essay

is at odds

with

itself,

s

she is the

first o ac-

knowledge. Indeed,

it is precisely

her strategy

o present

the op-

posed aspectsof her essay-such as itsexplicitrefusal,on theone

hand,

to

take

a numerical position

on

the

structure

of the tale,

coupled

with ts implicit

ssumption,

on the other

hand, of

a

nu-

merical position

in

representing

ts

own relationship

to the

two



11/49

M L

N

1177

earlier

critical essays,

a numerical

position

that reinscribes

the

question

of a triangular

versus

a quadrangular

structure resent

n

the tale-precisely her strategy o presentthese opposed aspects

of her

essay

as

an aporia,

as

a trope

of

undecidability

not unlike

theone

which

Paul de

Man

describes

n the

passage

Johnson

uses

as

the epigraph

to

her

book

The Critical

ifference,

he

book

whose

finalchapter

is her essay

on Derrida

and

Lacan.

In thatepigraph

de

Man evokes

the

aporia

between

grammar

nd

rhetoric y

citing

as

an

example

the case

in which Edith

Bunker asks

her

husband

Archie

fhe

wantshis

bowling

hoes

laced

over

or laced

under-to

which

the

irascible

Archie

replies,

"What's

the

difference?"

In

termsof grammarArchie's replyasks forthe differencebetween

two alternatives,

ut in terms

of rhetoric

his

reply

means

"What-

ever the

difference

s,

it's

not important

nough

to make a

differ-

ence

to me."

De Man remarks,

"The same grammatical

pattern

engenders

two meanings

that

are mutually

exclusive:

the

literal

meaning

asks

for the

concept

(difference)

whose

existence

is de-

nied

bythe

figurative

meaning"

(Johnson,

p. v). It

is

in

this

same

vein

thatJohnson

at

the

end

of her essay,

after

having

described

the opposition between

Derrida's

and

Lacan's

positions

as "the

oscillation

between

unequivocal

statements

f

undecidability

nd

ambiguous

assertions

of decidability,"

oncludes,

"'Undecidability'

can

no more be

used as the

last

word

than 'destination'.....

The

'undeterminable'

s

not opposed

to the determinable;

dissemina-

tion' s

not

opposed

to repetition.

f

we

could be sure

of the differ-

ence

between

the determinable

and

the

undeterminable,

he

un-

determinable

would

be

comprehended

within the determinable.

What is

undecidable

is

whether

a

thingis decidable

or

not" (p.

146).

Now

what are we

to make

of these

words?

By

which mean

not

just

what do these

words say

grammatically

but what

do they

convey

rhetorically,

or what purpose

are they being

said

in

this

context.

thinkthe key

ies

in

Johnson's

statement

hat

"

'Undeci-

dability'

an

no more be used

as

a last

word than destination.'

At

the

point

she

says

this,Johnson

s nearing

her

own

destination,

he

end

of

her

essay,

and is

faced

with the

formal

requirement

of

saying

a last

word

and thus

with

the

question

of

whether

a last

word can be said in the oft-renewedcritical discussion of "The

Purloined

Letter."

Having

to say

a last word,

she

says

in effect,

"The last

word is

thatthere s

no last

word." This type

of

statement

which

says

one

thing

grammatically

nd means

its

opposite

rhetor-



12/49

1178

JOHNT.

IRWIN

ically occurs

again and again

in her essay. As we noted,

it

is

the

strategy

t work whenJohnson refuses

totake a numericalposition

on the structure

of the tale at

the same time that she

implicitly

assumes

a numericalposition

n

relation

to the

two

earlier

critical

readings

which her own essay retrospectively

roups into a series

along with tself.

t

is

at work

again

when

she turns Derrida's

in-

sightson doubling

back upon

themselves

o

tell Derrida

that t is

impossible

to be one up on his specular

double

Lacan, forthough

what she says on a grammatical

evel is that

t

is impossible

to

be

one

up

in

such

an

encounter,

the rhetorical

ffect

f

her statement

is to leave her one up on her specular double Derrida. And this

strategy

s at

work once

again

when

she decisivelyconcludes,

"What is undecidable

is

whether thing

s decidable

or not."

These

instances of an aporia

between grammar

and rhetoric

occur

in

statements

hat

are

in one

way

or

anotherself-reflexive,

statements

hat

are

themselves

ncluded

in

the class

of

things

to

which they refer.

A

simple example

of such a self-including

tate-

ment would

be the sentence

"All

statements

containing

seven

words

are

false." Preciselybecause

the sentence

s itself statement

made up of seven words, we are facedwith paradox: ifthis tate-

ment is

true, t is false,

and

if

it is false,

t

is

true. Similarly,

n

an

aporia

between grammar

and rhetoric we

are

faced,

as de

Man

notes,

with

single grammatical

pattern hatengenders

two mutu-

ally

exclusive meanings. By very

reason

of the fact

that

they

n-

clude

themselves

n

the class of things

to

which

theyrefer,

these

statements ouble

back upon themselves

nd exhibit

hat

uncanny

reversal-into-the-opposite

nherent

n doubling. One

thinks n this

connection

of

Russell'sparadox.

Distinguishing

etween

two kinds

of classes (thosewhich do not include themselves s membersand

those

which

do),

Russell calls

the firstclass "normal"

and the

second

"non-normal" and he

then doubles back

upon

itselfthis

distinction etween

nonself-including

nd

self-including

lasses

by

asking

whether

the

class

of

all

normal lasses

s a normal

or a non-

normal

class. By definition

the

class of

all normal lasses

ncludes

within

tself

ll normal classes. Consequently,

f t

is

itself normal

class,

it must

be

included

in itself.But self-inclusion

s the distin-

guishing

haracteristic

f a non-normal lass. The classof

ll "normal

classes"s, then,a conceptwhose form nd content re at odds: the

conceptinvolves,

n the one

hand, a formalnotion

of

class

s abso-

lutely

nclusive,

which is to

say,

as

ultimately

elf-inclusive,

hat s

contradicted,

on

the

other hand, by

the content, by

the

specific



13/49

M L N 1179

definition fthe "classes"which

the former s to include completely

within tself.As a result the class of all normal classes is normal

only

f

t

is

non-normal, nd non-normal

only if it is normal.

Part

of the infinite

fascination of paradoxes

of self-inclusion

s, of

course, thatthey eem to reflect

n the facing

mirrors f language

and

logic

the mysterious ature

of self-consciousnesss that

which

seeks

to

include whollywithin

tself n exactrepresentation

f

that

which by itsvery essence cannot

wholly nclude

itself.

At the very

startof her essay Johnson

sets the tone for

all the

self-including tatements hatare

to followwhen she remarks

hat

in Poe's tale,Lacan's reading,and Derrida's critique, it s the act of

analysiswhich

seems to occupy the center

of the discursive

stage,

and the act

of analysis of

the act of analysiswhich

in

some

way

disrupts that centrality.

n

the

resulting asymmetrical, byssal

structure,

o

analysis-including

thisone-can

intervene

without

transforming nd repeating

other elements

n

the sequence,

which

is thus

not

a

stable sequence,

but which

nevertheless

roduces

cer-

tain regular effects" p.

110).

The

key phrase,

of

course,

is

"no

analysis-including

this

one." It has about

it

the

briskAmerican

qualityof Mark Twain's "No general statement sworth damn-

including this one"-a general

statement

worth a damn

only

if

general

statements

aren't

worth a damn.

The

very

fact that

Johnson

makes

an

analytic

tatement

hat ncludes

itself,

which s

to

say,

an analysisof her own

analysis,

n

the sentence

mmediately

following

her

statement hat

it

is

the act

of

analysis

of

the

act of

analysis

that skewsanalysis

n

Poe, Lacan,

and Derrida is her way

of

announcing her strategy

t the start. t

is not thatJohnsonwill

do

anything

different

n her essay from what Lacan and

Derrida

have done in theirs. ndeed, it s notclear that he thinks hat ny-

thing

different an be

done at thispoint inasmuch as

Lacan

and

Derrida have already replayed

the

structure

f

the tale

in a critical

registerby

acting out the game

of even and odd in their

opposing

positions.

What

will be different

n

her

version

s

that these posi-

tions

will

be repeated

with a

complete

awareness

of

their mplica-

tions,

a total critical self-consciousness

hat

aims

to

create an

in-

sight

without blind

spot;

for

what

s at

issue here

is

not so much

whether

one's critical

rgument

is

logically

true

or

false,

or

one's

readingof the tale perceptiveor dull, but whetherone's interpre-

tive stance

is

methodologically

self-aware

or methodologically

naive.

In

itstranslation rom

fiction o criticism, he project

of ana-

lyzing

the act

of

analysis

becomes

in

effect

he

program

of

being



14/49

1180

JOHNT.

IRWIN

infinitely elf-conscious

bout self-consciousness.

Or put

another

way, if the structurethatwe find in "The Purloined Letter" in-

volves doubling

an opponent's thoughtprocesses

in

order to

turn

his

own methods

againsthim,

then

the onlydefense

against

having

the

same strategy epeated

againstoneself

by the

next player s

to

produce

an insight

or take

a position

that is already

self-con-

sciously

doubled back upon

itself,

s is the case

with the type

of

self-including

statement

that says one thing

grammatically

but

conveys ts opposite

rhetorically.

or a position

thatknowingly

n-

cludes

itself

nd itsopposite

seems

to leave no ground

on

which t

can be undermined.

III

The

commitment o

an increasingly

elf-conscious

nalytic

posture

that animates this

cumulative

series

of

interpretations roduces

at

last

a

kind of intellectual

vertigo,

not uncharacteristic

ide-effect

of

thought

about thought-the

rational

animal

turning

n

circles

to catch itself

by

a tale

it

doesn't

have.

And

certainly

no one en-

joyed creatingthis vertiginous ffectmore than did Poe, an effect

that he imaged

as dizziness

at the edge

of

a vortex

or on

the

brink

of

a precipice.

That the

giddy,

self-dissolving

ffect

of

thought

about

thought-what

Johnson

calls the

"asymmetrical,

byssal

structure"

f

analyzing

the act

of

analysis-forms

the

continuing

theme

of

the Dupin

stories

s

announced

in

the

opening

sentence

of the first ale,

"The

Murders

in

the

Rue

Morgue."

The

story

begins

with he narrator's engthy

refatory

emarks

n

the

nature

of

the analytical power,

remarks that

conclude

by presenting

the

detectivestoryas a "commentaryupon the propositions ust ad-

vanced" (2:

531). But those

prefatory

remarks

start

with

this

curiousproposition:

"The

mental

featuresdiscoursed

of as

the an-

alytical

are,

in

themselves,

but

little

susceptible

of

analysis" (2:

527).

Now

inasmuch as this statement

nitiates he narrator's

own

brief

nalysis

of the

analytical

power,

t s self-reflexive:

s an

ana-

lytic

tatement

bout the

non-susceptibility

f

analysis

to

being

an-

alyzed,

the statement s

included

in

the class

of

things

to which t

refers,

but

what

the

statement ays

in

effect

s

that

analytic

tate-

mentscannot wholly nclude themselves. n analyzingthe act of

analysis,

self-conscious thought

doubles

back

upon

itself to dis-

cover

that it

cannot

absolutely

coincide

with itself.

This

insight

about the

nature of

thought is,

of

course,

at least

as

old in our

tradition

s the

philosophies

of

Zeno

and

Parmenides

and as new



15/49

M

L

N

1181

as

G6del's

proof

and

Borges's

(and

Carroll's

and Royce's)

map

of

natural

size.

It is

the

paradoxical

insight

hat

f one considers

the

act of

thinking

nd

the content

of thoughtas twodistinguishable

things-as

it

seems

one

must

in

dealing

with

self-consciousness,

withthought

that is

able

to

represent

tselfto itself,

ble

to

take

itself

s its own

object-,

then

the

attempt

to

analyze

the

act

of

analysis,

o include

wholly

he

act

of thinking

within

he context

of

thought,

will be

a

progression

of

the order

n +

1 to

infinity.

Which is

to say

thatthere

willalways

be one

more

step needed

in

order

to

make

the

act of

thinking

coincide

with the content

of

thought.

Since

the

self-including

esture

of analyzing

the

act

of

analysis

involves

doubling

back

in

whichself-consciousness,

ttempting

o

be absolutely

even

with

tself,

inds

that

t is

originally

nd

essen-

tially

t

odds

with

itself,

t is

not surprising

that Dupin,

in

illus-

trating

he

way

thatone

doubles

the

thoughtprocesses

of an

oppo-

nent,

gives

as

an example

"the

game

of evenand

odd'"

(3:

984).

In

this

game

"one player

holds

in his

hand

a number"

of

marbles

"and demands

of another

whether

that number

is even

or

odd.

If

theguess is right, heguesserwinsone; ifwrong,he loses one" (3:

984).

Dupin

then

tells

the

story

f an eight-year-old

oy

who

was

so

good

at this

guessing

game

that he

won all

the

marbles

at

his

school.

The boy's

"mode

of

reasoning"

involved

"an

identification

of the reasoner's

intellect

with that

of

his

opponent"

(3:

984),

and

thisdoubling

of the opponent's

thought

processes

was achieved

by

a

physical

doubling

of

his

appearance.

The boy explained

to

Dupin:

"I

fashion

the

expression

of my

face,

as accurately

s pos-

sible,

in

accordance

with

the

expression"

of the

opponent

"and

thenwaitto see whatthoughtsor sentiments rise in mymindor

heart,

as

if

to match

or correspond

with the expression"

(3:

984-85).

The

narrator

comments

that

"the

identification

f

the

reasoner's

intellect

with

that

of his opponent,

depends,

. . .

upon

the accuracy

with

which the

opponent's

intellect

s

admeasured"

(3:

985);

and Dupin,

agreeing

withthisobservation,

dds that

"the

Prefect

and

his

cohort

fail so

frequently,

irst, y

default

of

this

identification,

and,

secondly,

by

ill-admeasurement,

or

rather

throughnon-admeasurement,

f

the

intellect

with

which

they

are

engaged. They consideronlytheirown deas of ingenuity; nd, in

searching

for

anything

hidden,

advert only

to the

modes

in

which

they

would

have hidden

it

... but

when

the

cunning

of the

indi-

vidual

felon

is diverse

in character

from

their

own,

the felon

foils

them,

of

course.

This

always

happens

when

it is above

their

own,



16/49

1182

JOHNT. IRWIN

and veryusuallywhen it

is below. They

have no variationof prin-

ciple in their nvestigations"3: 985).

Now

what s goingon here? Dupin cannot

be the close

reasoner

that

he

is

reputed

to

be

and not realize that what he

has ust said

undermines

his use of the

game of even and odd as an

illustration

of

the way

one doubles the thought processes

of an

opponent in

order to be

one up on him. Firstof all,

if"the identificationf the

reasoner's intellectwith

thatof his opponent, depends,

. .

.

upon

the accuracy with which

the opponent's

intellect s admeasured,"

then

t

cannot

be that the

Prefect nd his men fail, first,

y default

of this dentification, nd, secondly,by ill-admeasurement, r ...

non-admeasurement,"

for if the identification ollows

from ad-

measurement, the Prefect's

firstfailure would have

to be in ad-

measuring

the

opponent's

intellect.And

if

the reason

that

the Pre-

fect

and

his

men fail

so

frequently

n

this admeasurement

is that

"they

onsider only their

own deas of ingenuity," hat

they re

un-

able

to imagine or conceive

of

the

workings f a mind

"diverse n

characterfrom their own"

(always the

case when the level

of

the

mind

is above their own

and usually

the case when it is below),

then is there anythingthat occurs in the rest of Poe's tale that

would

lead

us to

believe

this observation

of

Dupin's

about the

reason for

the Prefect'sfailure?

Whichis to say, f the

Prefect nd

his men

can

only catch felons

whose mindsare similar

o theirown

and

if

what

they need

in

this case is the ability

to

imagine

the

workings

of

a

mind

radically

different

rom

their

own, thendoes

Dupin's method of outwitting

he Minister

provide us

with

ny evi-

dence that this

ability

o imagine

a mind radicallydifferent rom

one's own

really exists?

n fact, sn't all of the tale's

emphasis on

the resemblance between Dupin and the Minister,on their pos-

sessing

the same dual creative/resolvent

ower, partof a plot line

in

which Dupin outwits he Ministeronly

because their

minds are

so much

alike? Isn't

it

precisely

because

the

Minister

has hidden

the letter

t

his residence

in the

same way

that the Queen

hid it

n

the royal

boudoir-by turning

t over and leaving

it out in the

open-that Dupin already

knows where to look for the letter

when he visits he Minister?

And

doesn't

Dupin recover the letter

by replaying

the same scenario by

which

the Minister

originally

stoleit?

Isn't

all this

simply

a

device

to make

us realize

that

t

is

impos-

sible

to

imagine

or

conceive

of a mind whose

workings

re radi-

cally

different

romone's

own?

We

don't have

any

directaccess

to

another's

thoughts.

Our ideas

of

the

workings

f another

person's



17/49

M L N

1183

mind may be derived

from

what thatperson says or does or tellsus

he is thinking, ut our ideas of another'smind are stillour

deas, a

projection that we make of another mind's othernessto one's own

based

on

the only immediate experience that

one's

mind has

of

psychic therness, he self's original othernessto itself, hatdiffer-

ence

that

constitutes

personal identity.

In

his

story

"Morella"

(1835) Poe quotes Locke's definitionof personal

identity

s

"the

sameness

of

a rational being" (2: 226).

But

one

immediately hinks,

"Sameness as

opposed

to

what?" For

in

differential

erms,

t

makes

no

sense

to

speak of the rational being's continuing ameness with

itself nless there s also a sense in whichthe rationalbeing is con-

tinually different from itself. In "Morella" Poe says,

"Since by

person

we

understand

an

intelligent

ssence

having

reason,

and

since there is a consciousness which

always accompanies thinking,

it

is

this

consciousness

which

makes every

one to be that

which

he

calls himself'-thereby distinguishing

im

fromother

beings

that

think,

nd

giving

him his

personal identity" 2: 226).

It

is this dif-

ference

of

thought

from

tself-which Poe evokes

here

as the dif-

ference between

thinking

nd "a consciousness which

always

ac-

companies thinking"-that enables therationalbeingto recognize

its

sameness

with itself

and thus recognize its difference

from

others, distinguish tself

from

otherbeings that think."

t

is

pre-

cisely

because the self's

thought

of another mind's otherness

to it

reflects heothernessof thought o itself hatthe effort o

imagine

the

thought processes

of an

opponent produces

a

specular,

anti-

theticaldouble

of the

self,

the self's

own

projection

of

psychic

dif-

ference. And

consequently,

for

all that "The Purloined Letter"

purports

to

be about

the

way

in

which one effects

an

identifica-

tion of the reasoner's intellectwith thatof his opponent," it is in

fact about that

psychic

difference

which

permits thought

to

be

identifiedwith

tself, hat difference

which

constitutes elf-identity

but which

prevents thought

from

ever

absolutelycoinciding

with

itself, ndeed, which constitutes self-identity recisely because

t

preventsthought

from

being absolutely

even with

tself.And

it

is

this

difference,

this condition

of

self-conscious

thought'sbeing

originally

nd

essentially t odds

with

tself,

hat Poe evokes at the

very

start

of

the

Dupin

stories

when

he

says

that the "mental fea-

tures discoursed of as the analytical are, in themselves,but little

susceptible

of

analysis."

As

is

often

the case

in

his fiction, oe, using the picture

anguage

of

radicals,

emblematizes this latent

meaning

on

the level of ety-

mology, level

to which

he explicitly irectsour attentionn "The



18/49

1184

JOHNT. IRWIN

Purloined

Letter" when he has Dupin,

in arguing

against those

who equate

analysiswithalgebra, remark,

If a term

s of

any

im-

portance -if words derive any value from applicability-then

'analysis'

conveys algebra'

about as

much

as,

in Latin, ambitus'm-

plies ambition,'

religion'

religion,'or

homines onesti,' set of honor-

able men" (3: 987). Since

in each of

these examples an English

word

has

a meaning different

rom

hat

of

its

Latinroot,the nfer-

ence

seems

clear:

in "The Purloined Letter"

"if

a term s

of

any

importance,"

we should submitthat

termto philological

nalysis o

see

if

the

root from which it

derives

has

different

r

additional

meanings compared to its English form, meanings

that might

alter, reverse,

or

deepen the significance

f

the

passages

in

which

these wordsappear.

Let me

apply this principle

suggestedby Dupin's

remark

to two

interlocking

airsof words in the tale.

On

his first isit, he

Prefect

introducesthe affairof

the letter

ike this: "The fact s, the busi-

ness is very imple indeed,

and

I make

no

doubt that

we can

manage it

sufficiently ell ourselves;

but then

I thought Dupin

would like

to hear the details

of

it, because

it s so excessively

dd."

To whichDupin replies,"Simple and odd" (3: 975). Dupin's em-

phatic repetition

f

the

words is meantto

fix

them

n our minds so

that ater

when he describes

the game

of

even

and odd,

we hear

the echo and

link

the

pairs.

And

to

make sure that

we don't miss

the connection,Dupin, immediately

fter

mentioning hegame

of

even and

odd, says,

"This

game

is

simple" (3: 984).

Simple,

even,

odd-what

are their roots?

The

word

"simple"

comes

from the Latin simplex,meaning "single,"

"unmixed,"

"un-

compounded."7

The word

"even" derives

fromthe Anglo-Saxon

efne,

meaning "flat," "level," and ultimately rom the Indo-Euro-

pean base *im-nos-,

meaning

"what is the same,"

and containing

the

adverbial

base

*im-,

meaning

"just

like" (p. 503).

The

word

"odd" derives

from

the

Old Norse

oddi,meaning a "point

of land,

triangle,

hence (from the

third

angle)

odd

number" (p. 1017).

Three words and at the

root of each a number-simple,

single,

one; even, things ust alike,

two;

odd, a triangularpoint

of land,

three.

nd these

three words

are

grouped

into two

pairs-simple/

odd,

even/odd-that contain,

as

it

were,

four

syntactic

laces

be-

tween them which the threewordsfillby havingone of the words

repeated. The doubling

of the word "odd"

links the two

pairs;

it

gives

them their element

of

sameness, evoking

that

condition

of

being

at odds

with

tself,

hat

differencewith

tself,

which consti-

tutesthe sameness

of

a

rational

being

(a

condition

of

being

at

odds



19/49

M

L

N

1185

with tself

hat

is most clearly

perceived

when

thought

tries

to

be

absolutely

ven

with tself).

The

three words-both through

their

meaningsand throughthewaythattheyare paired and linked-

are

an emblem

of the

numerical structure

hat

governs

the

tale,

which

s to say,

of the

numerical

steps

or geometrical

patterns

hat

self-consciousness

oes

through

n

trying

o analyze

itself.

Dupin

says that

the

game

of even

and

odd is simple,

and

throughout

the

Dupin stories

Poe associates

simplicity

with

the

highest,

purest

form

of ratiocination.

t

is

in

this

vein that

Dupin

suggests

to

the

Prefect

n his

first

isit hat

"the

very implicity"

f

the affairof

the

letter

constitutes

ts oddness:

"Perhaps

the mys-

tery

s a littletoo

plain

..

. A

littletoo

self-evident"

3:

975).

And

laterDupin

says

thatthe

Minister,

n

hidingthe

letter,

would

be

driven,

as a

matter

of

course,

to

simplicity,

f not deliberately

n-

duced

to it as a matter

of choice" (3: 989).

As

in

that "game

of

puzzles

... played

upon

a map"

(3:

989),

the Minister

would

choose a hiding

place

that

would "escape

observation

by

dint

of

being

excessively

obvious,"

relying

on

the fact that

"the

intellect

suffers o

pass

unnoticed

those

considerations

which

are too ob-

trusively nd too palpably self-evident"3: 990). But what is that

simple

thing

whose

very

simplicity

makes it

so

odd,

that

thing

which s so mysterious

ecause

so obvious,

hiding

out

in the

open

"immediately

eneath

the

nose

ofthe

whole

world" 3:

990)?

What

but self-consciousness,

hat condition

of

being at odds

with tself

that constitutes

he sameness,

the

singleness,

he simplicity

f

a ra-

tional

being?

By

definition

numberis odd

ifwhenthe

number is

divided

by

two,

there is a remainder

of

one.

And by

that definition

he

first

odd number is three. In that simple game of even and odd in

which self-consciousness

analyzes

itself,the

question

inevitably

arises as to whether,

when the

mind's

desire to

be

absolutely

ven

with tself s divided

into

the mind's

essential

condition

ofbeing

at

odds

with

tself,

he one

that s

always

eftover

is the same as

the

number one

that precedes

two, that is,

the same

as that

mythic,

original,

undivided

unity

prior

to

all

paring/pairing.

r

put

an-

other

way,

when

the

mind tries to

make the act of thinking

oin-

cide absolutely

with the content

of thought

only to

find that

there

is always one more step needed to achieve this coincidence, s the

infinite rogression

that

resultssimply

the

mirror

mage,

the an-

tithetical

ouble,

of a

Zenonian

infiniteregression

which,

by

di-

viding

a

quantity

n

half,

then dividing

the half

in

half,

then di-

viding

the

quarter

in

half

and so on

to

infinity,

eeks a

lower

imit,



20/49

1186 JOHNT. IRWIN

a part that cannot be halved again,

a thing so small that,

being

indivisible, t represents n undivided unity,

n originalone? Poe

is

too good both as philosopherand philologistnot to knowthatthe

simple thing that s

self-consciousness ould never

be as

simple

as

that. Indeed,

if

the mind were ever

able to make the

act

of

thinking nd the contentof thought coincide

absolutelyso that

there was no difference

between

them,

then

self-consciousness,

that self-identityonstitutedby thought's

differencefrom itself,

would simply go

out like a light. Such an

undifferentiated ne

would be indistinguishable from zero.

Though

the

root

of the

word "simple," the

Latin simplex,means "single,"

"unmixed,""un-

compounded," the

roots of the word simplex-the Latin words

semel,

meaning

"once," "a single time," nd plico,meaning

"to fold,

fold

together"8-

make

it

clear that to be

unmixed or uncom-

pounded

does not mean to

be

undifferentiated.

or

in

thepicture

language of these radicals we

can

see that

a thingwhich s single-

fold

is something-like

a sheet of

paper,

a letter-that

in

being

folded

a

single

time s doubled back

upon

itself.

That

the

mage

of

self-consciousness

s

a

simple

fold

doubling

an inscribed surface

back on itselfwas in Poe's mind when he plotted the folding/re-

folding

of

the

purloined

letter

an

be inferredfrom

n 1845

poem

on

folding money

called "Epigram

For Wall Street"

attributed

o

him:

I'll

tell

you

a

plan

for

gainingwealth,

Better hanbanking,

rade

r

leases-

Take a banknote

nd fold

t

up,

And then

you

will

find

yourmoney

n

creases

This

wonderful lan,

without

anger

r

loss,

Keeps your ash nyourhands,wherenothingantroublet;

Andevery

ime hat

you

fold

t

across,

'Tis as

plain

s the

ight

f the

day

that

you

double

t

(1: 378)

The infiniteprogression

implicit

n

the analysis of the

act

of

analysis

s

evoked at

the

end

of

"The

Purloined Letter"

with

the

revelation f Dupin's revenge on the Minister,

or

this

ttempt y

a

mastermind

o get

even

with

his specular double

clearly ervesas a

figure

of

the

analytic

mind's attempt t mastery, ts attempt

o be

absolutelyeven with tself.Knowingthat the Minister would feel

some

curiosity

n

regard to

the

identity f

the

person

who had

outwitted

him"

(3:

993), Dupin

leaves

him a

clue

by

substituting

for the

purloined

letter one

containing

a

quotation

from

Cre-



21/49

M L

N

1187

billon's Atree

opied

out

in

Dupin's

own

handwriting,

hand

with

which the Minister"is well acquainted" (3: 993). In signinghis

deed,

Dupin marks

it as revenge,

whichis to

say, he insures

that

theMinister

will nterpret

his actions

not simply

s thepaid

inter-

ventionof a

gifted mateur sleuth

or

a duel ofwitsbetween

two

of

the

cleverestmen

in Paris,

but as a repayment

for the evil

turn

which

the Ministerdid Dupin

at Vienna. For I

take t that

thesatis-

factionof revenge

requires-except

in those

cases where

it is

car-

ried

out on a

substitute-a

moment

of revelation n

which theob-

ject

of revenge learns by

whom, and

forwhat, he is

being paid

back,a pointthat Poe underlinesbyhavingDupin choose hisquo-

tation-signature

rom ust such

a revelatorymoment

in an eigh-

teenth-centuryevenger's

tragedy.

And yet

fromwhat

we knowof

the Minister

t is

inconceivable that

once he

learned of Dupin's

revenge

he would

let the matter rest

there-and equally

incon-

ceivable that

his double would

not

know this.For though

it

might

seem that

with

Dupin's

revenge

the score

between them

s even at

one

apiece (one

bad turn

at

Vienna repaid

by one

bad

turn at

Paris),

iftheMinister

llows

Dupin's trick o

go

unanswered,

then

Dupin will have had the last turn; and as proverbialwisdom as-

sures

us,

the

last

wordor

the

last augh

is

not

ust one

word or

one

laugh

like any

other. The power

to say the

last word

or have the

last laugh, the power

to bring

a

series

of reciprocal

actions

to

an

end,

like the power

to

originate,

nvolves

he

notion

of

a

one

that s

simultaneously

more than one. Consequently,

we are

left

with

the

paradoxical

situation

n which

Dupin's

outwitting

f the

Minister

will constitute n eveningof

the score

between them at

one apiece

only

if

the Ministerdoes

not allow Dupin's

trick

o

end

the

series,

does not allow it to be that one last turnwhich in its finalitys

always

more than one. It is not so

much

thatone bad

turndeserves

another as thatone bad

turn

demands

another

f

t s to be

experi-

enced as simplyone

turn.

All

of

which

emphasizes

the mutually

constitutive

ontradictoriness

f seekingtoget

evenwith specular

double

by

being

neup

on him.

In using theaffair

f the etter

o even an old

score,

Dupin gives

up

his

"objective,"

fourthposition

as an

apparently

disinterested

observer

of the

triangular

tructure

f

King,

Queen,

and

Minister

described

by

the

Prefect n order to insert himselffor personal

reasons into the

third

position

of an analogous

triangle

n which

the

police

and

the Minister

occupy

respectively

the

first and

second

positions.

Similarly,

n

describing

this

triangular

tructure



22/49

1188

JOHN

T.

IRWIN

in

which

Dupin

shifts

he

Minister

from the

third

to the

second

position,Lacan would himselfappear to occupy an "objective,"

fourth

position

as

a

disinterested

observer

outside

the

triangle.

Yet to a

supposedly

more

objective

observer

1986 - Mysteries We Reread, Mysteries of Rereading. Poe, Borges, And the Analytic Detective Story....

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Transcript of 1986 - Mysteries We Reread, Mysteries of Rereading. Poe, Borges, And the Analytic Detective Story....