A Confederacy of Dunces
by John Kennedy Toole
Grove Press, 1980
“When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in a confederacy against him.” — Jonathan Swift
And the dunces are all in a confederacy against poor Ignatius J. Reilly, the central, larger-than-life, character of A Confederacy of Dunces. His mother wants him to get a job, his employers (when he has one) want him to perform some work, his neighbor wants him to quit playing the trumpet and/or television so loudly she can hear it across the alley, and his “girlfriend” wants him to get out of bed and put into action his unique worldviews (e.g. establishing a divine-right monarchy). Ignatius on the other hand would rather eat his wine cakes, drink his Dr. Nut, attend to his delicate valve, be appalled by the latest Hollywood travesty at the local movie theater, and contemplate the appropriate sense of theology and geometry a young man should have. Unfortunately for him, and most fortunately for the reader, Ignatius is thrust out of the womb of his house on Constantinople Street by the combined machinations of his mother and his nemesis Patrolman Mancuso. He is forced to “go to WORK!” Out in the world he meets the senile octogenarian Miss Trixie of Levy Pants, the avant-garde fashionista Dorian Greene and the embittered Mr. Clyde, fork-wielding owner of Paradise (hot dog) Vendors. Ignatius tries to incite a Civil Rights movement and to engineer a political coup by sneaking the more colorful members of the homosexual population of New Orleans into important government positions. Alas, the dunces are stronger than Ignatius.
A Confederacy of Dunces is a classic of Catholic Fiction. Publication of the novel was made possible by Walker Percy who describes the tale of its origin in the introduction. Set in New Orleans, Dunces has, of course, a strong and unique Catholic milieu. Blessed Virgins can be found everywhere, including suction-cupped to the top Santa Battaglia’s televison. People send Mass cards and say rosaries for anyone who’s passed – even if they don’t necessarily know the deceased’s family. Juvenile delinquints try to find rest and respite in cathedrals. The Catholicism of Dunces may not be of the most orthodox variety but it is certainly of the people, and so ingrained in them that it becomes almost as delightfully madcap as they are.