f7d9395c_atings_and_reviews___Gwern_net__Review
[Title] A Confederacy of Dunces [Author] John Kennedy Toole [Rating] ★★★ [Year] 1994 [Read] 2013/03/13 [Review] 
It’s hard to know what to make of this… I’ve rarely read a book where the main protagonists inspires such disgust in me - even for a picaresque, the main character Ignatius is extreme. It is as if Toole read Cleckley’s Mask of Sanity and a psychology textbook, and said to himself, “how can I make the most offensive moronic character which mashes up the traits of both psychopaths and autists?” and then wrote a novel on it in which the protagonist’s countless evil actions, glib lies, narcissism, ignorance, sloth, leeching, and other flaws finally brought down an appropriate punishment - only to rescue him at the last moment for further adventures. In particular, I’m not bothered that Ignatius pretends to be a medievalist Catholic. I’m bothered that as far as I can tell, Toole seems to genuinely try to present Ignatius as educated and learned and with a worldview (and reading the reviews here, it seems that most people do indeed take this for granted). The problem is, Toole fails. Utterly. In the entire book, Ignatius’s learning is displayed solely as repeated surface allusions to Boethius and Hroswitha, and a few other dropped names, and never anything of substance. Someone who read Wikipedia on Boethius and Hroswitha would know more than Ignatius does, and is probably literate enough to spot Ignatius (and by extension, Toole’s) failures, like writing ‘gyro’ where they were trying to make an allusion to Yeats’s ‘gyre’ (way to mess up an allusion to only one of the most famous poems ever!). So, with the complete failure of Ignatius to offer any sort of Catholicly-grounded interesting critique or reflection on society (as a good picaresque is supposed to!), we’re left with the evocation of New Orleans (seems good enough, although I don’t know enough about New Orleans to really judge), the humorous value of each set piece (overall, low. Jeeves this is not.), and the final convergence of plot threads at the bar (a decent enough denouement but still leaves the first 150 pages a drag). Is that enough to make it a masterpiece? I should think not. Indeed, A Confederacy of Dunces overall stands in stark contrast to Gene Wolfe or R.A. Lafferty’s better novels.
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