Detectives as Tricksters

At the beginning of this year, I put out a video essay on Knives Out and the structure of the whodunnit. In it, I analysed how whodunnit narratives are constructed, and how Knives Out plays with that structure in interesting and innovative ways.

The thing is, I have a lot more to say about that. Since then, I’ve read quite a few more detective stories. Not just the classic Agatha Christie’s, but also contemporary detective fiction like those from Vaseem Khan and Richard Osman. I’ve done a lot of thinking about the detective and the role of the detective in detective fiction. The detective must be interesting enough to get us coming back each instalment, but uninteresting enough they don’t take over the narrative for themselves. So today, I want to just spend some time thinking about detectives.

Now, I should stress here, that not all whodunnits nor all mystery novels are inherently detective stories. Detective stories are somehow something else. For example, Columbo is definitely a detective story, but not a whodunnit - mostly because the audience already knows who gone and dun it. So I’m not talking about whodunnits, I’ve already done that in my analysis of Knives Out and Glass Onion. I’m talking about the detective, and not necessarily their stories, but rather them as an individual character.

In my previous video on Baccano, I talked a little openly about my dislike for Jungian archetypes. So what I’m about to say may seem to go against this, but I’ll explain. I think the detective is like a structural archetype for narratives. Now this is not to be compared to a Jungian archetype. My idea is more of a structural element. My problem with Jungian archetypes is based on two objects that are interrelated: for one, I fundamentally disagree with the theories that underlie Jung’s approach to mythology. The idea of some kind of fundamental human way of thinking strips what makes us human: the social element. Cultures in different parts of the world have different ways of interacting with the world, with each other, and with their own conception of thoughts. The way we think is different than how they think, but neither one of us is wrong. Our own cultural background, and the social worlds we move in, impact the way we understand the world around us and the symbols that literature and life gives us. Not to mention that even within the same society, two people can have two vastly different relationships to the same cultural symbol based on different social positions, such as sexual orientation, economic status, race, or gender - to name just a few ways that things can be varied.

The second is that these archetypes are also not typically varied in the way that people can interpret them. The focus on the unconscious means that there is little room for agency. But the thing is, people and storytellers know they have agency of narratives, and will often actively change elements of things to make important political or social points. This is one of the fundamental ways change can be enacted - by changing the narratives we have. And hugely important facets or character types can also be incredibly different when looking at two different examples.

This is why I think looking at it less as archetype and more as structural element is important. Character types are less set in stone from a surface level perspective and more from a structural perspective. Characters need to fill a role and purpose in the narrative, and two characters can fulfil the same role but look, on the surface, as two vastly different types of character.

The hero, for example, is our main character we follow, someone who does extremely legendary actions and often for virtuous reasons. This does not mean, however, that Harry Potter is exactly the same as Frodo. Both are heroes in their own right, but are also incredibly different from one another. They demonstrate different types of heroes, while both fulfilling the role of hero.

In the case of the detective, we can have two detective characters who both fulfil the role of detective in detective fiction but their appearance, demeanour, and way of interacting with the mystery can be vastly different. Miss Marple, for instance, is absolutely not a Poirot. These two detective act in two vastly different ways, despite both being detectives, and both written by the same author. Despite that, they both fulfil the role completely.

So we should talk about what the role of the detective actually is. The importance of the Detective is not so much as an archetype, because detectives can differ wildly in their interactions, but rather in their role and interaction with narrative. It’s a structural role to the story. The detective is the conduit of narrative. It’s through the detective that the central narrative - the question of what happened and who did it - is told to the reader, as well as to the other characters in the narrative. The detective possesses secret knowledge, knowledge that is revealed to the reader when the time is right. In some cases, this is in the classic large reveal scene, but can also be in more quiet scenes. The importance is not the drama for the other characters, but in drama and release of tension for the audience.

There’s a particular structural character that comes up in many myths, legends and folktales throughout many societies and cultures: the trickster. Tricksters have many primary identifying elements: they are often known for being skilled in disguise and of being cunning. Trickster figures are also structurally in-between. They are frequently of both the inside and the outside simultaneously. They are boundary-crossers, figures that flip between and outside of categories as whim. It’s through tricksters that we often see our cultural categories, and through them that we either see how important they are, or how flimsy they are. Or, in most cases, both.

I think the Detective is often the trickster figure. Trickster characters are known for their cunning. The detective is able to see small things and point them out as important clues. A small thing out of place would possibly not alert the average viewer, but does alert the detective to something being amiss.

One of the defined elements of the trickster is in their transformative nature. They play with disguises and roles in order to gain whatever information is necessary. Sherlock Holmes is famous for his many disguises, for example. Some detectives use their entire persona as a type of disguise, one that fools their sources of information into senses of disquiet. Colombo is the most famous for this. Colombo used the role of the dishelved and inept detective, who seems so scatter-brained that he would frequenlty forget to ask something, resulting in a “one more thing”. But this appears to be an act, one that lulls the culprits into a false sense of security.

This plays into the detective’s ability to cross boundaries and play with our senses of categories and cultural definitions. The detective plays with stereotypes, but purposely shows us how false we are with these. Their sense of self becomes the point of malleability. Like Columbo, detectives play with their appearance not just to throw people off, but to play with the categories and cultural conceptions. Columbo does more than just lull the culprit into a false sense of security. He also demonstrates to us that we have our own expectations, and we can often act similarly to the culprit when faced with similar characters.

Miss Marple is another who plays with stereotypes. She’s the little old lady who makes people feel as if she is simply a harmless figure only concerned with gossip and knitting. And while she is concerned with knitting, she is also incredibly shrewd and cunning. Benoit Blanc plays with the expectation of a specific cultural category as well. He’s thick southern drawl and stranger mannerisms make people think he isn’t as shrewd as he is. Poirot does not typically play in this same manner, but will shift his interactions depending on what is necessary. He is calm and caring when that would best get information out of an informant, or strict and angry when that is needed.

But detectives can also be boundary-crossers in other ways. In some detective stories, the detective is not always necessarily one who sticks to incredibly necessary rules and regulations of investigation as you would if you’re traditional police. Richard Osman’s more recent cohort of detectives - a collection of four people, and sometimes more, instead of the traditional one - often plays with the roles of legality for the sake of finding truth. And often, finding truth is more important than inherent justice. In Psych, Shawn is openly lying to the police, and often breaking and entering in order to gather information. Again, they play with the boundaries of society and the rules and regulations for their own sense. Sometimes, this is meant to be funny. But sometimes, this also points out to us how restrictive traditional methods can be, and how this can sometimes allow murderers to roam free.

The detective, in my opinion anyway, is the contemporary trickster figure. They are the ones that cross boundaries, that live in the strange uncomfortable middle, but hold such important cunning that it unveils hidden knowledge, often tied to justice - though not always. The hidden knowledge is what the detective has a key to, and through them we connect. We love the detective the way we love the Raven, or we love Loki. We love figures who seem to walk in-between. And when we watch the next Columbo, or pick up the next Poiroit book, we don’t do so for any other character than the detective.