APPROACHES TO UNDERSTANDING POSTMODERNISM

INTERTEXTUALITY

The poet John Donne once wrote that "no man is an island," and for postmodernists, no text is an island. Postmodernism
is all about the connections between texts, including the various ways in which one text references another (or many others).
There are all kinds of techniques that authors can use in order to highlight these links, including pastiche, parody, quotes, and
direct references, as well as subtler nods to other material. What these techniques have in common is that they're examples of
intertextuality.
Julia Kristeva coined the term "intertextuality" in 1966, explaining that there are two relationships going on whenever we read a
text: there's the relationship between us and the author (the horizontal axis) and between the text and other texts (the vertical
axis). It's the vertical axis that gives us our definition of intertextuality; still, both axes emphasize that no text exists in a bubble
and that we need to recognize how existing works shape current texts and readings.
Intertextuality feeds into some of the big questions about literature—e.g., can a text be seen in isolation or do we need
to look at how it relates toother texts? For postmodernists, it's clear that no text exists in isolation and that works of literature can
only be created using stuff that already exists. Looking at it from this perspective, then, intertextuality is unavoidable: postmodern
authors may enjoy drawing attention to it but it's always there. As the theorist Roland Barthes sums up, a text is "a
multidimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and clash" (source).
Another question that's been discussed a lot over the years is whether the author is in full control of the text, or whether
the reader plays an active role. On the one hand, it's the author who weaves together this collection of intertextual references;
however, we as readers make a mental connection. This act involves recognizing conventions (academic types call these "codes")
and is something we do naturally: when we read or view any kind of text, it goes into our memory bank and shapes our responses
to othertexts.
Whatever form it takes, intertextuality treats literature as a network and invites us to pick up on how a text relates to other texts.
This textiness sets postmodernism apart from some other literary movements that are all about realism and naturalism.
Postmodernism doesn't try to disguise that a text is a construct, and that's why intertextuality is so postmo2dern—it reminds us
of the very thing that some other kinds of texts try to keep under wraps.

METAFICTION

Here's a term that g2ets tossed around quite a bit.

First used by William H. Gass in a 1970 essay, "Philosophy and the Form of Fiction," the word "metafiction" signals the
kind of text that emphasizes its status as a text. Metafiction is 100% aware of the fact that it's fiction—some literature may try to
be naturalistic or realistic, but postmodernism doesn't hide what it is.
In fact, it flaunts it.
Metafiction is a prime example of the self-aware vibe we often find in postmodernism. Rather than trying to pass itself
off as a window on the world and disguise its structure and techniques, metafiction lays its cards on the table. There are lots of
different ways in which authors can create this effect—story-within-a-story, making obvious references to storytelling
conventions—but what they have in common is that they call attention to the processes of writing and reading.
This technique started to attract attention in the 1960s when it was used in some classic texts such as John Barth's Lost
in the Funhouse, Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49 and Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. It then reached the height of
its popularity in the '70s, though some authors (such as Thomas Pynchon and David Foster Wallace) kept using it in spades. Fast
forward to the present, and metafiction has spread out much wider, becoming a major part of pop culture.
Through its references to literary styles and conventions, metafiction gives us another example of postmodernism's bric-
a-brac approach. Postmodern literature isn't about creating something 100% new and real—remember, these ideals are no longer
seen as possible by postmodernists. Rather than fighting against this, though, postmodernists go with the flow and embrace the
idea of writing stories about stories, instead of getting bogged down in a quest for what's authentic or real.
P.S. As an add-on to the concept of metafiction, Linda Hutcheon came up with the term "historiographic metafiction" in 1988. The
term describes fictional texts that bring history into the mix—a combo that takes us away from the idea of history as fact and
highlights that writers can put their own spin on things (after all, it's history we2're dealing with here).

PASTICHE
 Think of pastiche as the literary equivalent of a collage: it's not about creating something from scratch but drawing on
what already exists. (Yeah, those Bachelor contestants know what's up.) There are all sorts of ways in which texts can reference
other texts, right? But what a pastiche does is imitate other texts or genres. It's like playing dress up: a text may take on the guise
of a hard-boiled detective novel, a Gothic melodrama, a spy adventure…take your pick. The postmodern author doesn't even have
to choose just one—they can mimic as many genres as they like.
People sometimes get pastiche and parody mixed up, since they're both examples of intertextuality and relying on our
knowledge as readers: we can't recognize parody or pastiche in action unless who know what they're referencing. But parody
usually exaggerates and pokes fun at the original material. Pastiche, meanwhile, adopts the stylings of the original but doesn't
comment on or make fun of the material (if anything, it's more likely to pay tribute).
As with postmodernism in general, not everyone is in love with the idea of pastiche—Fredric Jameson famously called it
pointless and empty. Despite its critics, though, pastiche is a super-popular technique in postmodern texts and can be found in all
areas of pop culture. Think Quentin Tarantino movies: they imitate a bunch of genres, like kung fu, grindhouse, and western
movies; and dime store pulp novels.
So if you're reading or watching something and it seems like it's a hodgepodge of different genres, you can put your money on
pastiche.

MAXIMALISM

Where minimalism is all about making things neat, tidy, and low key, maximalism goes against the grain
by embracing excess. And for many postmodernists, maximalism is where it's at.
Because postmodernism doesn't stick to any hard and fast rules, its texts can be any length. Still, some of its best-loved texts tend
to be on the long side (coughDFWcough), and it's usually maximalism that's to blame—er…thank? Postmodernists just love to
describe stuff.
And it's not just lengthy descriptions that create these 800-page tomes. These authors also tend to, um, go off on
tangents. Postmodernism definitely doesn't stick to traditional ideas about plotting and narrative structure, which means authors
are more likely to take diversions and explore other themes and subplots that tickle their fancy.
As with so many postmodern characteristics, maximalism gives the author the chance to experiment. Since we're living
in an age in which the line between authentic and inauthentic has become blurred (so say the pomos), we may as well just throw
everything into the mix rather than getting bogged down with what's real/false or certain/uncertain.
Postmodernism's love of intertextuality and metafiction adds to its maximalist character. It's inevitable if you think about
it: if an author is making loads of references to other texts—and to itself as a text—then we're most likely dealing with a work of
maximalist fiction. In fact, maximalism is pretty blatant about including heaps of outside info and references.

IRONY

Irony isn't exclusive to postmodernism, but the pomos just own it. Before we dive in, take a look at Shmoop's definition
of irony, paying closest attention to verbal irony. It's kind of like sarcasm…just fancier. Irony can be playful, or it can be used to
highlight the absurdity or severity of serious situations.
Yep, it's a multitasker.
By the 1990s, irony had exploded onto the pop culture scene. In fact, it had become so popular that it seemed to have
lost its impact—people even started talking about the end of irony, especially in the immediate wake of 9/11. For some, irony
seemed to have no place following the very real horror of this tragedy. As guys like Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller had shown
in response to WWII, though, irony can always be an effective literary device: it may lay low for a while, but it always returns.

HYPERREALITY

While some authors and theorists welcomed postmodernism with open arms, others have argued that it's not all fun and
games. Guy Debord wrote an influential book called The Society of Spectacle (1967), in which he flagged the downsides of a world
in which the media had seemingly invaded every corner of society. His conclusion was that we're now living in a society in which
nothing's real anymore: "All that once was directly lived has become mere representation."
Deep.
Jean Baudrillard was another guy who held this outlook, expanding on it inSimulacra and Simulation (1981). For
Baudrillard, postmodernism wasn't just about experimental art and fiction: he focused on the 20th-century background in which
it had developed, arguing that media and consumer culture had gone into overdrive and led to a Matrix-style scenario where
there's no originality left and what seems real is just a simulation.
Rather than embracing the postmodern age, Baudrillard saw its speed and its blurring of real/unreal as having had a
damaging effect. According to this guy, we've become so bombarded with images that we've lost touch with reality and, what's
more, mistake these images, or "simulacra," forreality. The result? Life may seem real but it's no longer really real—we're now
living in a state of hyperreality.
Trippy, right?
Though Baudrillard puts a negative spin on things, his theory has its roots in one of the big ideas behind postmodernism,
which is that there's nothing original left so say and no story that hasn't been told. Words like originality and authenticity used to
have a lot of street cred, but for postmodernists, nothing's truly original anymore. In this view, art and literature are created by
reworking existing texts and ideas.
Postmodernism usually doesn't sweat this lack of authenticity or concepts like "reality" and "truth." Its attitude is pretty much "so
what?"—it takes it as a given and works from there. But there were some folks who weren't too happy about this turn of events.
So is postmodernism a thrill or is it the demise of civilization?
You be the judge.

PARANOIA

For all its playfulness, postmodern literature also deals with heavy stuff—including paranoia. Yep, these people thought
someone was out to get them.
Okay, we need to take social and historical background into account here. Remember, postmodernism grew out of a mid-
late 20th-century setting in which technology, consumerism, and the media were all growing at an insane rate. As the world
entered a new era of mass communication and technology (i.e., "technoculture"), writers started tapping into the theme of
technology going into, um, overdrive and people being left powerless under its reign.
So technology is ramping up: is that enough to make people freak out? Possibly, but the postmodernists had more factors
on their side. Namely, a little thing called the Cold War. The Cold War was basically a game of chicken, in which the ongoing
suspicion between the East and West was so thick, you could cut it with…a dystopian story.
Technology + a war of distrust = Big Brother is watching.
And remember, the idea that you're being controlled, that your life isn't your own, is especially horrific for postmodernists, who
were all about person freedom and, frankly, chaos. The order being imposed on the world around them—be it through technology
or spies—was enough to psych them out.

FRAGMENTATION

Let's hop in our Shmoop time machines and head back to the 18th century: a little period we like to call
the Enlightenment. Enlightenment folks were all about order, rationality, science, reason, and unity. Yeah, not exactly a
postmodern manifesto.
As with any movement worth its salt, Enlightenment thinking had its fair share of challengers. And as time went on, new
movements started to flourish and to tap into social changes that were the order of the day. After Romanticism and Gothicism
had their run, modernism came around the corner—after World War I, the modernists were all about uncertainty, alienation, and
fragmentation.
Sound familiar?
Yeah, the modernists and postmodernists had a lot in common. But here's the thing: modernists tended to express a
sense of sadness about this turn of events (hello, The Waste Land ), seeing the fragmentation as something to be mourned. Some
modernists even tried to cling onto order, using art as a beacon of meaning in a world where meaning seemed to have been totally
lost.
Postmodernism, on the other hand, doesn't hanker after these qualities or try to hold onto them. Quite the opposite: it
embraces the idea of fragmentation and uses it to create playful texts that reflect and explore the chaos of the world. No attempts
to find some sort of grand meaning or insight ("grand narratives," that is); these dudes were skeptics to their souls.