Mason & Dixon is classified as a “postmodernist” novel. I was intrigued by what the usage of the word here entailed. Postmodernism in literature refers to an abandonment of “absolute meaning” that is seen in modernist and realist literature and espousal of fragmentation, playfulness and incertitude, as well as the usage of literary methods such as metafiction and intertextuality.
This then makes of M&D a postmodernist literary work. The narrator, a certain Rev. Cherrycoke, who tells the adventures of two (historically real) astronomers, Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon, arouses one too many times the suspicion and doubt of his audience in regards to the veracity of what he is narrating. Throughout the novel, Cherrycoke's authority is put into question time after time, as he mixes historical accounts with speculation, fabrication or, indeed, mere fantasy. From talking animals to conversing clocks and a flying, mechanical (quasi-omnipotent) duck; fiction and reality intermingle. Pinchon/Cherrycoke takes liberty in designing actual historical figures as either he or the circumstances please. Another thing that caught my attention was the capitalisation of words mid sentence; as I found out, besides highlighting the importance of a words, it serves as reference to the practice of randomly capitalising words in old print.
As for the content itself, the novel critically presents several serious themes, some of which it demystifies. The two protagonists come to realize the grim reality of the colonial ventures and their exploitative consequences which they find themselves in the midst of:
Slaves. Ev’ry day at the Cape, we lived with Slavery in our faces,— more of it at St. Helena,— and now here we are again, in another Colony, this time having drawn them a Line between their Slave-Keepers, and their Wage-Payers, as if doom’d to re-encounter thro’ the World this public Secret, this shameful Core. . . . Pretending it to be ever somewhere else, with the Turks, the Russians, the Companies, down there, down where it smells like warm Brine and Gunpowder fumes, they’re murdering and dispossessing thousands untallied, the innocent of the World, passing daily into the Hands of Slave-owners and Torturers, but oh, never in Holland, nor in England, that Garden of Fools . . . (Ch. 71)
‘Sir, an hundred twenty lives were lost!’
“I reply, ‘British lives. What think you the overnight Harvest of Death is, in Calcutta alone, in Indian lives?— not only upon that one Night, but ev’ry Night, in Streets that few could even tell you how to get to,— Street upon desperate Street, till the smoke of the Pyres takes it all into the Invisible, yet, invisible, doth it go on. All of which greatly suiteth the Company, and to whatever Share it has negotiated, His Majesty’s Government as well.’ (Ch. 14)
“Sooner or later,” Dixon far too brightly, “— a Slave must kill his Master. It is one of the Laws of Springs.” (Ch. 72)
On the other hand, the book is not free of an incessant mystification which M&D battle with as the self-proclaimed “men of Science” they are. For instance, during their encounter, the Learnèd English Dog informs Mason, somewhat mockingly: “I may be præternatural, but I am not supernatural. ’Tis the Age of Reason, rrrf? There is ever an Explanation at hand, and no such thing as a Talking Dog,— Talking Dogs belong with Dragons and Unicorns. What there are, however, are Provisions for Survival in a World less fantastick.” (Ch. 3)
And again, after Mason perceives the ghost of his deceased wife:
He tries to joke with himself. Isn’t this suppos’d to be the Age of Reason? To believe in the cold light of this all-business world that Rebekah haunts him is to slip, to stagger in a crowd, into the embrace of the Painted Italian removed herself, and the Air to fill with suffocating incense, and the radiant Deity to go dim forever. But if Reason be also Permission at last to believe in the evidence of our Earthly Senses, then how can he not concede to her some Resurrection?— to deny her, how cruel! (Ch. 15).
“Get a grip on yerrself, man,” mutters Mason, “what happen’d to ‘We’re men of Science’?”
“And Men of Science,” cries Dixon, “may be but the simple Tools of others, with no more idea of what they are about, than a Hammer knows of a House.” (Ch. 69).
I assume Pynchon expresses a disenchantment of sorts with the supposed “Age of Reason” which had been forcefully detached of its earlier, seemingly mystical, origins; perceived as a revolution that ineradicably changed the ways of logic, and which must be indiscriminately embraced, regardless of the cruel exploitation it may cause. In fact, M&D parallels what Pynchon had previously expressed in his 1984 essay “Is It O.K. to Be a Luddite?”, in which he wrote:
THE word "Luddite" continues to be applied with contempt to anyone with doubts about technology, especially the nuclear kind. Luddites today are no longer faced with human factory owners and vulnerable machines [...] there is now a permanent power establishment of admirals, generals and corporate CEO's, up against whom us average poor bastards are completely outclassed [...]. We are all supposed to keep tranquil and allow it to go on, even though, because of the data revolution, it becomes every day less possible to fool any of the people any of the time.
