To be honest, I quite enjoy publications that really toy with the reader. Whether that be with all their self-awareness, their great humour, their ability to bait and switch, or just some amusing quality that makes them unique. The problem is that producing a piece of fiction that doesn’t completely fumble this is rather challenging, but I think the picaresque A Confederacy of Dunces is a worthy challenger for a novel that knows exactly what it is is, and how it is going to play around with the reader.
Written by John Kennedy Toole, and published eleven years after the author’s passing, this novel focuses on the overweight (and pompously named) Ignatius J. Reilly and his hatred for the modern world. This hatred is likely spurred by the fact that our lardy lad of a narrator completed a masters degree in Medieval History, causing him to idealise a world—as well as traditions—from centuries ago.
Reading a full synopsis of Toole’s novel would kill any reason to read it. Instead, I’m just going to say that this bizarre and very politically-charged—but also not all that serious—piece of fiction is kicked off my Ignatius’ encounter with a police officer who finds his interesting sense of fashion to be suspicious.
From there, A Confederacy of Dunces seems to bounce from episodic chapter to episodic chapter, with its main allure being its oddball, but presumably still likeable, protagonist and his odd way of viewing the world. I am curious about why Toole never got it published prior to his death, but I think that particular bit of trivia makes this novel all the more jarring and standout.
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