A Great New Orleans Novel

Re-reading A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole.

Much praised, and it has been mentioned recently for the accurate portrayal of one New Orleans accent--"more Sopranos than Gone with the Wind." (See here and here).

An over-educated man of about 30, still living with his mother, has sabotaged his only shot at a teaching job. He's huge and self-indulgent, and he seems to be on his way to some state of complete motionlessness on his bed. Then things happen that get him going--even help him adjust to the modern world, in funny ways.

The idea is that he is trying to be a good Catholic of the Middle Ages. He knows that to the extent he succeeds in this, he won't fit into the world around him at all. He'll hate plastics, the shopping mall, "violations against decency and taste," and getting ahead.

A black character named Jones weaves in and out of the story. Here is an exchange between the two of them.

"'Hey, listen,' Jones said. 'Before you be leavin, tell me somethin. Wha you think a color cat can do to stop bein vagran or employ below the minimal wage?'
'Please.' Ignatius fumbled through his smock to find the curb and raise himself. 'You can't possibly realize how confused you are. Your value judgments are all wrong. When you get to the top or wherever it is that you want to go, you'll have a nervous breakdown or worse. Do you know of any Negroes with ulcers? Of course not. Live contentedly in some hovel. Thank Fortuna that you have no Caucasian parent hounding you. Read Boethius.'
.... [snip]
[Jones, quite reasonably, refuses to accept this.] 'Listen. How you like bein vagran half the time?'
'Wonderful. I myself was a vagrant in happier, better days. If only I were in your shoes. I would stir from my room only once a month to fumble for my relief check in the mailbox. Realize your good fortune.'
The fat mother was really a freak."

What most strikes me now is that Ignatius develops a plan for a kind of movement for world peace. His best hopes for friendship seem to be people who detest the bourgeois life as much as he does--a Marxist woman who favours sexual liberation; or the out gays whom he describes as degenerates.

Our first step will be to elect one of their number to some very high office--the presidency, if Fortuna spins us kindly. Then they will infiltrate the military. As soldiers, they will all be so continually busy in fraternizing with one another, tailoring their uniforms to fit like sausage skins, inventing new and varied battle dress, giving cocktail parties, etc., that they will never have time for battle....In seeing the success of their unified fellows here, perverts around the world will also band together to capture the military in their respective countries. In those reactionary countries in which the deviates seem to be having some trouble in gaining control, we will send aid to them as rebels to help them in toppling their governments.

....

Almost everyone else has had an opportunity to run the world. I cannot see why these people should not be given their chance. They have certainly been the underdog long enough.

....

Degeneracy, rather than signaling the downfall of a society, as it once did, will now signal peace for a troubled world. We must have new solutions to new problems.

....

A debate between Pragmatism and Morality rages in my brain. Is the glorious end, Peace, worth the awesome means, Degeneracy? Like two figures in the medieval MOrality play, Pragmatism and Morality spar in the boxing ring of my brain.

Oddly, this is a combination of Bush's foreign policy and that of his critics. World peace, even if a high price has to be paid--and it is the whole world that has to be changed. A breakdown of traditional morality may be not simply an unfortunate side effect of this long or never-ending war, but its principal instrument.

Or something like that.

The author, Toole, who had at least some things in common with Ignatius, committed suicide at the age of 32. Six years later, his mother asked Walker Percy to look at the manuscript of a novel.

UPDATE: The ending is sadder than I remembered. In a way Ignatius finds true love--with a woman who is kind of a Marxist, sexual liberationist radical. Despite having opposed principles, it seems, they can admire each other for having principles, and being at odds with the bland world around them. But he only gets into her car because he is desperate--the ambulance is on its way to take him to the loony bin. He doesn't dare tell her the truth about what he's been up to, or what he's going to be like. This is hardly a promising beginning.

Worse, in a way, the neighbour finally gets to explain about the events that caused Ignatius and his mother to start quarrelling all the time--when he was in high school, and his dog died. His mother didn't take the death as seriously as he did; that enraged him. No priest would perform a funeral for the dog; that enraged him further, and he left the Church. (Early in the novel, he uses his memory of this dog as an image to inspire masturbation). This reminds me of something I heard or read--that the Catholic Church officially teaches that dogs and other pets don't have souls--or at least, not immortal ones. They won't get to heaven, except in rare cases where a dog or pet is actually essential for the happiness of a Christian who is saved.

I guess poor Ignatius was really crazy. Toole has an acute sense that really striving to maintain consistent principles can make one very lonely; and in one's loneliness, one is likely to become self-absorbed, and self-indulgent. Many of us need something like an Establishment. Abandon the one that is presented to you, and you may not find another. You may be adrift.

Sun Sep 18, 2005 2:09 pm MST by robertll | Email Article |

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A Great New Orleans Novel