The Chris Moeller Archives

"When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him."

The funniest book ever written is A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. It famously went to print-- in 1980-- eleven years after its author had committed suicide. Toole's mother, Thelma, had persistently pushed the completed manuscript upon another New Orleans writer, Walker Percy, and after inspiring him to find a publisher, it won the Pulitzer Prize in 1981.

Its protagonist is like none other. In the foreward of the book, Percy calls Ignatius J. Reilly a "slob extraordinary, a mad Oliver Hardy, a fat Don Quixote, a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one-- who is in violent revolt against the entire modern age." (People always quote this line, I believe, because the character is so difficult to adequately outline that its easier to stick with the first interpreter's description.) Ignatius loudly criticizes as perverse television programming aimed at youth, yet watches these programs every day without fail. Well educated and literate, he nevertheless lives slovenly at home with his mother, upon whom he is almost completely dependent. "I dust a bit," he tells a police officer. "In addition, I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip."

Confederacy has been been stuck in cinematic purgatory for decades, but may be at least coming to the stage. John Belushi, John Goodman, Chris Farley, John Candy, Will Ferrell, and Philip Seymour Hoffman were all linked to the starring role at one time, but in April, Nick Offerman took the role in "an industry-only reading of the project" in New York with an eye towards taking the story to Broadway. Zach Galifianakis, incidently, was the man born to play the part.

Here's a favorite passage of mine from A Confederacy of Dunces. In this scene, Ignatius has stepped into a parking garage and samples a hot dog from a vendor.

"My," Ignatius said to the man after having taken his first bite. "These are rather strong. What are the ingredients in these?"
"Rubber, cereal, tripe. Who knows? I wouldn't touch one of them myself."
"They're curiously appealing," Ignatius said, clearing his throat. "I thought that the vibrissae about my nostrils detected something unique while I was standing outside."
Ignatius chewed with a blissful savagery, studying the scar on the man's nose and listening to his whistling.
"Do I hear a strain from Scarlatti?" Ignatius asked finally.
"I thought I was whistling 'Turkey in the Straw.'"
"I had hoped that you might be familiar with Scarlatti's work. He was the last of the musicians," Ignatius observed and resumed his furious attack upon the long hot dog. "With your apparent musical bent, you might apply yourself to something worthwhile."
Ignatius chewed while the man began his tuneless whistling again. Then he said, "I suspect that you imagine 'Turkey in the Straw' to be a valuable bit of Americana. Well, it is not. It is a discordant abomination."
"I can't see that it matters much."
"It matters a great deal, sir!" Ignatius screamed. "Veneration of such things as 'Turkey in the Straw' is at the very root of our current dilemma."
"Where the hell do you come from? Whadda you want?"
"What is your opinion of a society that considers 'Turkey in the Straw' to be one of the pillars, as it were, of its culture?"
"Who thinks that?" the old man asked worriedly.
"Everyone! Especially folksingers and third-grade teachers. Grimy undergraduates and grammar school children are always chanting it like sorcerers," Ignatius belched. "I do believe that I shall have another of these savories."
After his fourth hot dog, Ignatius ran his magnificent pink tongue around his lips and up over his moustache and said to the old man, "I cannot recently remember having been so totally satisfied. I was fortunate to find this place. Before me lies a day fraught with God knows what horrors. I am at the moment unemployed and have been launched upon a quest for work. However, I might as well have had the Grail set as my goal. I have been rocketing about the business district for a week now. Apparently I lack some particular perversion which today's employer is seeking."

 

A statue of the fictitious Ignatius stands today in the 800 block of Canal Street in New Orleans, outside the former D. H. Holmes department store, which stood during the time the story is depicted in the early '60s and beside which Ignatius "(studies) the crowd of people for signs of bad taste in dress" and nearly gets arrested during the novel's opening chapter. In bronze, Ignatius still scowls disapproving at passersby, and the Chateau Bourbon hotel takes him down each year during the Carnival celebration to avoid damage by drunk and disorderly pedestrians of whom Ignatius would no doubt disapprove.

posted by CM @ 8:17 PM