For those readers who approach The Crying of Lot 49 like a detective story and take the time to trace the insane ins-and-outs of its plot, the ending should provide only one thing: the answer to the mystery. But we can't even give you a spoiler alert on this one… because there is no spoiler. There is no answer to the mystery.
Toward the end of the book, Oedipa's interest in the entire Tristero conspiracy begins to wane, and she worries that she is losing her mind (dedicated readers might feel the same way!). But Oedipa's (and our) interest is reignited when Genghis Cohen tells her about the auction at which Pierce Inverarity's stamp collection of "forgeries" will be auctioned off as "lot 49" (6.128).
Cohen adds that a mysterious unknown bidder has emerged, and that the bidder wants to place a "book bid," which means that he will not have to be present at the auction. Oedipa and Cohen have already assumed that the "forgeries" were made by the Tristero. Now they jump to the conclusion that the unknown bidder comes from Tristero, and that he has come to wipe out evidence of the organization's existence.
So the novel ends: "Oedipa settled back, to await the crying of lot 49" (6.158). Wait. What?! That's it? You mean we never learn who the mysterious bidder is? We never learn if the Tristero is real? We never learn if Inverarity planned the whole thing?
That's right. We don't.
Instead, we are left in the same position as Oedipa. We have uncovered an extremely elaborate plot, and we feel that it has to come together and make sense. But: nope. There is no moment of revelation. Instead, all we have are a series of possible interpretations: that Tristero is real, that Oedipa is insane, or that the entire thing is a hoax. Unless we force an interpretation on the novel, and choose to close it out with our own explanation—our own conspiracy theory—then the ending is just… there.
This is crazy-frustrating. It feels like Pynchon has just tricked us out of $11.95 that we could have spent on ice cream. The only way to know for sure is to double-down, to go back and reread and see if the book is on to something, or if it's only the feeling that it's "so labyrinthine that it must have meaning beyond just a practical joke" (6.116).
What we suggest is that you go back and reread Oedipa's final musings before the end of the book. As she thinks about what America is and what it means circa 1965, Oedipa considers another type of continuity that could draw "the continuity" of America together. It's not the Tristero, not some elaborate plot or rebellion or 500-year-long conspiracy. All of this, she seems to realize, is nothing but a red herring.
Instead, she thinks of America as a country composed of "storm-systems of group suffering and need" (6.144). And "There," Oedipa thinks "was the true continuity."