Read This (#5) - A Confederacy of Dunces

One of the funnier novels you could ever read.

John Kennedy Toole never saw the publication of this rollicking adventure that went on to capture the Pulitzer Prize in 1981, having committed suicide twelve years before.

How it got into print was only due the the relentless efforts of his mother, who took the manuscript to dozens and dozens of publishers over a number of years, before showing it to another writer, Mr. Walker Percy, who finally gave it the attention it deserved.

While you laugh out loud at the many misadventures of the pompous and loquacious 300-pound Ignatius J. Reilly as he rumbles around the city of New Orleans, it's hard to imagine how so much hilarity could have been produced by a mind that was clearly in a such a dark place.
Here's how it begins:

"A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once. Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs."

Ironically, my first exposure to this book also came during a dark time, as I read the entire novel over two days while in the hospital recovering from exploratory surgery to determine if I had throat cancer (didn't!).

The recovery/waiting area was a large room containing approximately thirty beds and we were divided from each other only by curtains. How bizarre my chortles of laughter must have sounded as they mixed with the moans and groans of the other patients!