A Confederacy of Dunces

“Mrs. Reilly looked at her son’s reddening face and realized that he would very happily collapse at her feet just to prove his point. He had done it before.”

Once Ignatius is introduced, so is his mother. The two are (at this stage in the novel) inseparable, both in a physical sense and a narrative sense. Ignatius and his mother live together, their lives tangled in a complicated knot. The novel details the slow unraveling of this knot, culminating in Mrs. Reilly calling the psychiatrists to take Ignatius away. But in the early stages of the book, she is the only character who understands (as much as understanding is possible) her son. When he embarks on one of his rants, she looks at him and knows that he is capable of collapsing “just to prove his point” (12). She knows this element of Ignatius’s character is not a bluff. But she also indulges her son’s eccentricities and allows him to get away with such absurd demonstrations. The insult-laden, often bitter dialogue exchanges between the two reveal Ignatius to be a dominating figure who has browbeaten his mother into accepting his worldview and lack of employment opportunities.

“I spent all his poor Grammaw Reilly’s insurance money to keep him in college for eight years, and since then all he’s done is lay around the house watching television.”

The dynamic between mother and son begins to unfold at the Night of Joy. The family’s history unfurls, and the audience understands how such strange characters came into being. Ignatius’s academic pursuits helped to impoverish his mother and led to nothing in terms of a career. Only after a few drinks is Mrs. Reilly able to admit this, divulging this information to a stranger while Ignatius holds court and tells the story of the one time he tried to leave New Orleans, a story he repeats ad infinitum. Ignatius’s education has equipped him with a sense of superiority and a vocabulary that he uses to vocalize this arrogance, but it has affected his character to such a degree that he seems anachronistic and unsuitable for any role in society. Mrs. Reilly’s sobs reveal a sadness for her situation: She feels trapped by her son’s education, forever responsible for inflicting Ignatius on the world, but loves her son so much that she struggles to offer any genuine criticism of his antics.

“Looking at the dozens of Big Chief tablets that made a rug of Indian headdresses around the bed, Ignatius thought smugly that on their yellowed pages and wide-ruled lines were the seeds of a magnificent study in comparative history.”

Ignatius’s education has also given him a purpose. Amid all of the pomp, arrogance, and intellectual wordplay, Ignatius does have a drive. His character has a goal, even if it is one he will never attain. He aims to write “a magnificent study in comparative history” and truly believes in the power of the words he puts down on every page (30). He believes that—one day—these writings will have the power to change the way people view society, history, and everything else. This is important, as his character would be far less sympathetic without this drive and ambition. The self-delusion is essential, as it separates him from the majority of lazy, layabout fools found in literature. Ignatius might be indistinguishable from most failed academics and fools, but this burning ambition and self-assuredness reveal a pathos to the character, establishing him as an unacknowledged genius. Ignatius does not want to simply exist in the world; he hopes to better it in his own unique way. This adds a greater degree of sympathy to his character, and his failure to realize this dream adds a sense of tragedy to his constant fiascos.

“It was a neighborhood that had degenerated from Victorian to nothing in particular, a block that had moved into the twentieth century carelessly and uncaringly—and with very limited funds.”

New Orleans is the canvas on which Ignatius’s character is sketched. The city’s depiction is incredibly detailed and informative, from the architecture to the accents. In this quote, Mancuso travels to the Reilly’s neighborhood and finds them in relative poverty. But even on Constantinople Street, their house is more impoverished than most. The degeneration “from Victorian to nothing in particular” reveals a general drift in the city’s ornate aesthetics (35). That it has happened “carelessly and uncaringly” suggests that the people in this area are not just poor but forgotten, left behind by the state and allowed to sink further into poverty (35). Ignatius and his mother struggle to make ends meet, existing on meek welfare pensions and unemployment checks. This sense of marginalization and listlessness is reflected in the architecture that surrounds them. The pathetic fallacy of the neighborhood suggests that Ignatius and his mother have been allowed to drift for too long by an uncaring world.

“Mancuso and my father are alike only in that they both give the impression of being rather inconsequential human beings.”

The steady unraveling of the relationship between Ignatius and his mother begins with Mancuso attempting to arrest Ignatius. From there, the police officer takes pity on Mrs. Reilly and—by introducing her to Santa Battaglia and other people—fractures the relationship between mother and son. When Mrs. Reilly reveals that she has been talking to Mancuso, Ignatius is incensed. His opinion of the policeman is very low, and Ignatius provides this cutting remark when Mrs. Reilly compares Mancuso to her late husband. This quote does more than reveal Ignatius’s opinion of two people in a succinct, scathing manner. First, it illustrates that Ignatius believes his father to have been “rather inconsequential” (45). The irony of this is that Ignatius himself seems to be of very little consequence beyond his own pompous self-delusions. Second, it shows that though his opinion of his father is very low, Ignatius’s opinion of Mancuso could hardly be lower. He has no respect for either Mancuso or his own late father, and his mother’s failure to adhere to this opinion eventually breaks the two apart. While Ignatius’s grip on his mother’s views was once firm, the introduction of Mancuso loosens and eventually shatters it all together.

“‘Employers sense in me a denial of their values.’ He rolled over onto his back. ‘They fear me. I suspect that they can see that I am forced to function in a century which I loathe. That was true even when I worked for the New Orleans Public Library.’”

This quote sums up Ignatius’s approach to employment, one of his most overt examples of self-delusion. After graduating from his university, Ignatius has been unable to hold any job and now spends his days scrawling in his journals, watching television, and fighting with his mother. But rather than prompt any kind of self-reflection or self-examination, this perpetual unemployability has encouraged Ignatius to use his education to craft an elaborate lie that comforts him and presents everyone else in the world as being at fault. Rather than admit his total lack of skills (social or otherwise), Ignatius blames employers who value the wrong traits in their employees. As Ignatius “rolled over onto his back,” barely bothering to get out of bed to defend his insolence, he espouses a version of events that criticizes the contemporary world and compliments himself (48). Ignatius’s arrogance and self-delusion have formed a bubble around his ego, allowing him to turn his utter failure to find a job into a positive trait. He covers up for his own faults by inventing faults in others.

“‘I refuse to “look up.” Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man’s fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery.’

‘I ain’t miserable.’

‘You are.’

‘No, I ain’t.’

‘Yes, you are.’”

Ignatius’s relationship with religion is complicated. Though ostensibly a Catholic, Ignatius is far from devout. He rarely attends church, blasphemes constantly, and sins regularly. He seems fixated with the aesthetics and ecumenical vocabulary of the church, which allows him to feel smug and superior to those around him. In this example, he uses imagery directly linked to Christian mythology to admonish his mother and project his own beliefs on her. She should be miserable because he tells her that she should be miserable, and Ignatius employs liturgical language to emphasize his point. Later, when he learns of the small task handed down to his mother by the priest, Ignatius criticizes the priest rather than doubt his own judgment. Ignatius believes in a nebulous and abstract form of religion that he has concocted entirely in his head, and he uses his faith to browbeat others, show off his education, and make himself feel superior.

“The exterior was an example of elegant rusticity; the interior was a successful attempt at keeping the rustic out entirely, a permanently seventy-five-degree womb connected to the year-round air-conditioning unit by an umbilicus of vents and pipes that silently filled the rooms with filtered and reconstituted Gulf of Mexico breezes and exhaled the Levy’s carbon dioxide and cigarette smoke and ennui.”

The buildings and infrastructure described in the novel tend to be ramshackle, dilapidated examples of a certain type of New Orleans poverty. But the Levy home is entirely separate. Not only is it geographically distant from the inner city and its lack of wealth, but it is also well-equipped, well-built, and an example of moneyed success. Despite this, the inhabitants are not happy. Just like Ignatius and his mother, who live in a house that is falling apart, the Levys are dissatisfied with their current lot in life. They exhale “cigarette smoke and ennui” (83); the litany of gadgets and novelties that litter the home fail to bring any degree of satisfaction to Mr. and Mrs. Levy. Though their house is more expensive, though it’s filled with nicer things, though it’s air-conditioned all year-round, and though it’s not stuck in the middle of the city, the Levy house does nothing to bring its inhabitants any greater satisfaction than anyone else.

“What fairy godmother had dropped Mr. Ignatius J. Reilly on the worn and rotting steps of Levy Pants?”

At first, Gonzalez really does view Ignatius as a gift. His arrival at Levy Pants is a blessing, Gonzalez believes, as he has been unable to find any staff who are capable of staying in the position other than Trixie. Ignatius arrives as a change of pace, something completely different from what has come before. Though the audience is aware that Ignatius’s personality will almost certainly lead the company to ruin, Gonzalez has high hopes for his new hire. The “worn and rotting steps of Levy Pants” add to the stagnant sense of the company, which has existed in stasis for so long that it needs a person to breathe new life into the business (96). For Gonzalez, Ignatius really is comparable to a fairy godmother. This choice of words is apt. Fairy godmothers are fictive figures found in folklore and fairytales, and Ignatius also seems unreal and astonishing, too strange for reality and impossible to restrain. Other characters cannot comprehend his actions or words. Like the fictive fairy godmother, he rises above normalcy and propels himself into an almost magical sphere, then he enraptures and enchants people (like Gonzalez), though the results are almost always catastrophic.

“Actually, the Mississippi River is a treacherous and sinister body of water whose eddies and currents yearly claim many lives.”

Ignatius is both a reactionary and an iconoclast. In his writing, he happily lauds traditional arts and philosophies while criticizing many of the most revered and beloved writers, musicians, and other creative forces. He targets Mark Twain with regular venom, and quotes like the one above reveal his delight in taking a mainstay of American literature and turning accepted wisdom on its head. The Mississippi River features in many novels and songs, typically described in romantic, idealized, and metaphorical tones. But Ignatius is different. While other writers might describe the river as a reflection of the locale, its people, and their mindset, he views the river as a dangerous body of water. He projects human characteristics upon it, describing it as “treacherous and sinister” (106). Ideas like this separate Ignatius from mainstream American literature and position him as an outsider and a critic, even if the manner of his criticisms is often ridiculous and humorous.

“Myrna is very sincere; unfortunately, she is also offensive.”

Ignatius’s relationship with Myrna Minkoff is complicated, to say the least. Though Ignatius routinely insults her and demands that she receive corporal punishment, she is one of the few constant figures in his life. Other than his mother, there is no other person whom he thinks about or communicates with more often. Like Mrs. Reilly, Myrna is often derided by Ignatius. He holds seemingly conflicting opinions of her at the same time, as evidenced by the quote. He admires her sincerity but finds almost every one of her opinions offensive. This allows him to repeatedly deride Myrna and compels him to demonstrate the superiority of his own ideas. When he leads an industrial action in the Levy Pants factory, for instance, he imagines how Myrna will react. He hopes to inspire insane jealousy in a woman whose opinions he finds “offensive” (112). This is the essential tension in their relationship; as much as he might loathe to admit it, Ignatius is fascinated by Myrna (and vice versa). They are inextricably bound together, even though they seem like polar opposites. That they communicate so often by letter adds to this, as Ignatius often confronts her opinions and actions from a first-person perspective. He provides critical commentary on her actions while still addressing a letter to her. Myrna emerges as one of the novel’s most important characters, and the quote above explains why she is so key to understanding Ignatius.

“As soon as somebody like Lee say, ‘Chariddy,’ you know they somethin crooker in the air.”

Jones is one of the novel’s most perceptive characters. In a social sense, he remains marginalized and ostracized, while his thick accent disguises the insightfulness of his thoughts. However, he recognizes the power dynamics at play within the Night of Joy and deduces that Lana is committing potentially criminal acts in the name of charity. While other police officers—the plainclothes officers and Mancuso—are unable to figure out what is happening at the bar, Jones is adamant that there is “somethin crooker in the air” (117). This analytical ability and insight would be more useful were it not for the racial politics that see African Americans like Jones reduced to menial work and arrested for vagrancy or underpaid for jobs due to reduced social status. That Jones is compelled to sweep the bar floor for an incredibly low wage reveals to him that Lana has no trouble committing morally dubious acts, which establishes the precept for her later immoral or criminal behavior. Jones’s intuition tells him that criminal activity is taking place in the bar, though he lacks the social status to make many people take note.

“You’ve caged me in with hundreds of material objects that don’t satisfy the real me.”

Like Jones, Mrs. Levy is a character capable of searing social insight, though this insight is rarely taken as seriously as it should be. In the quote above, she successfully diagnoses the emptiness and the unsatisfactory nature of consumerism. The Levy home is filled with trinkets and gadgets, many of which were very expensive. But none of them provide Mrs. Levy with any satisfaction. This is why she turns to projects such as psychoanalyzing Trixie, as she feels the need to add purpose and direction to her life. The exercise board, the air conditioning, and the jacuzzi might make her feel good momentarily, but she recognizes that they do not provide a long-lasting sense of pride or purpose. The Levy house can be compared to other households—such as the Reilly home—which are much poorer, have fewer possessions, and still lack the ability to “satisfy the real me” (133). Ignatius has his writing, Mrs. Reilly has her bowling, Darlene has her dancing, and Mrs. Levy has Trixie. Material objects do not provide purpose for the characters, who have been betrayed by the rise of consumerism in the United States.

“‘I sure will,’ Mrs. Reilly said happily. Ignatius was just the type to be a communist. He even looked like one a little. ‘Maybe I can scare him.’”

Mrs. Reilly’s views of her own son are contorted and confused. She does not know what to make of Ignatius’s behavior or his beliefs. As she befriends Santa and Robichaux, slowly reducing her alcohol intake, she acquires an ideological and critical framework with which she can explain her son’s actions. Santa helps her come to terms with outright criticizing Ignatius’s behavior, while Robichaux’s perpetual fear of communists provides her with a potential understanding of why Ignatius is so different from his peers. While this criticism is incorrect (Ignatius’s often confused ideology seems to favor monarchy), it reveals more and more about Mrs. Reilly’s character. She lacks her son’s education and the confidence to challenge his more ridiculous behavior. One of the narrative’s most compelling aspects is the gradual build toward outright criticism of Ignatius by his mother. The quote above outlines one of the moments where she begins seeing ways she can criticize him. These criticisms do not necessarily need to be correct—Ignatius is not a communist—but the fact that they are made at all is important. That Mrs. Reilly could believe her son to be “just the type” demonstrates her confusion, mistrust, and growing confidence (177).

“What I want is a good, strong monarchy with a tasteful and decent king who has some knowledge of theology and geometry and to cultivate a Rich Inner Life.”

If Mrs. Reilly’s growing confidence is important, Ignatius’s reaction to this confidence is equally as interesting. For years, Ignatius has been allowed to espouse his thoughts and ideologies out loud in the house and—for the most part—has simply been ignored by his mother. Few people take his political thinking seriously; other than Myrna, most people tend to ignore Ignatius at his most ideological. However, when challenged about being a communist, Ignatius feels compelled to reply. Having never had to explain his political beliefs in detail to his mother before, he is slightly taken aback. He retorts with his views on the importance of a “good, strong monarchy” whose main attributes are taste and decency (186). The monarch will only require “some knowledge” of theology and geometry but will feel compelled to “cultivate a Rich Inner Life” (186). Ignatius is essentially describing himself, or his opinion of his idealized self. Rather than being a communist, Ignatius is quite the opposite. That the thought is not fully sketched out or particularly informed speaks to the infrequency with which Ignatius’s ideas are challenged or contradicted. His goal is unachievable, his narcissism is revealed to be even greater than before, and his relationship with his mother is steadily eroding.

“Dr. Talc idly wondered if they had married each other. Each certainly deserved the other.”

Dr. Talc is one of the novel’s minor characters. He does not interact with other characters on a face-to-face basis. Instead, he demonstrates Ignatius Reilly’s last effect on the people he leaves in his wake. Though a fairly successful lecturer in his own right, Talc is still haunted by memories of Ignatius and Myrna. The two of them wrought destruction in his lectures and, though he still receives the occasional mailed threat from a someone named ZORRO, the effect of this destruction is felt in Talc’s mind long after Ignatius and Myrna leave the university. While the novel focuses on Ignatius and his various interactions with the unsuspecting public, the ramifications and consequences of these meetings are rarely explored. As such, Talc functions as a bellwether. That he is still fixated with the two troublesome students demonstrates that even long after Ignatius’s departure, he is capable of wreaking havoc. When Talc “idly wondered” whether Ignatius and Myrna are together, he reveals his negative opinion of the two and the hope that they are hurting one another, rather than him (204). As is demonstrated later in the text, however, Ignatius has the power to damage people long after he exits their physical location. Sometimes, the impression he leaves upon people is enough to have a detrimental effect on their lives.

“His mother has always been notably apolitical, voting only for candidates who seemed to have been kind to their mothers.”

Mrs. Reilly’s growing convictions force Ignatius to confront the reality of his situation and reexamine their relationship. Her renewed boldness confuses him, especially the frequent allusions to communism. In his opinion, she had previously been “notably apolitical” (211). This emerging politicization is a threat to Ignatius, and he places this in the context of her previously held ideology: that candidates who treat their mother well are more deserving of her vote. This is an important observation, as it reveals as much about Ignatius as it does about his mother. For Mrs. Reilly, it is clearly an innately held desire. She votes for candidates who are kind to their mothers out of a longing for a son who is kind to her. Her desire for maternal appreciation is projected onto the political sphere and turns her into a single-issue voter. For Ignatius, it reveals his lack of self-awareness. He has observed that his mother votes for a certain kind of candidate but has never asked why. Despite his education, Ignatius lacks any kind of empathy and would never stop to think that his mother’s voting record might reveal anything about him. Instead, he uses this observation to criticize her lack of political engagement or knowledge. While the quote reveals Mrs. Reilly’s desire for a better relationship with her son, it also reveals why their relationship will never improve.

“I recommend Batman especially, for he tends to transcend the abysmal society in which he’s found himself. His morality is rather rigid, also. I rather respect Batman.”

Even though Ignatius has a much-discussed education, his thinking is still immature and child-like in a number of ways. In the above quote, he places the comic book character Batman on an equal intellectual footing as his favorite Roman philosopher, Boethius. This reveals a great deal about Ignatius, especially his love for pop culture. Though he frequently insists that he reviles cheap culture, he regularly visits the local theatre and sees most films that are released. He revels in “low quality” media, enjoyably shouting threats and lamentations so loudly that the cinema staff has to ask him to quiet down. While he frequently talks about famous philosophers, he is rarely reading by the time the narrative begins. Films and pop culture have replaced the academic bastions he reveres. But Ignatius does not realize this switch has occurred. He places Batman on a similar footing to Boethius because they fill the same niche in his existence; they are his escapism, his way of extricating himself from his unsatisfactory existence. Boethius and Batman both provide a moral conception of how the world functions; one originates from high culture, one originates from low culture. That Ignatius can no longer differentiate between the two reveals that his intellect has metastasized to such an extent that he has become everything he once mocked.

“Santa made a sign for Mrs. Reilly not to discuss her deficiencies, but Mrs. Reilly was not to be silenced.”

With the relationship between Ignatius and Mrs. Reilly becoming more strained, the passage above reminds the audience that they share many personality traits—they are, after all, mother and son. One of the best examples is their ability to ignore those around them while espousing on the great many negativities they seen in the world. While Ignatius is quick to complain to anyone who will listen, Mrs. Reilly is often more restrained (perhaps due to the decades of browbeating endured while sharing a house with Ignatius). But in this chapter, she sits down with Santa and Robichaux and finally feels as though she has an environment where she can share her thoughts. As such, she switches into a very Ignatius-style mode, ignoring Santa’s subtle hints and launching into a tirade about his various “deficiencies” (230). She has lost sight of the original point of the meeting (to present herself to Robichaux) and decided that she is “not to be silenced,” something Ignatius does on numerous occasions (230).

“But she did not rise to the challenge. Her eyes were steely, her lips thin and firm. Everything was going wrong.”

Mrs. Reilly’s character growth is again evidenced in this quote. Previously, any squabble between Ignatius and his mother deteriorated into him shouting and insisting until he gets his way, or until he chooses to relent. He knew how to bait and goad his mother, knew which words and phrases he could employ to get the desired effect. But Mrs. Reilly learns how to combat this. In the above quote, she refuses to “rise to the challenge” (293). The catalyst for this newfound resolve is the sheer scale of shame that Ignatius has brought to the family name. His actions have resulted in him being plastered over the front page of the newspaper, causing a great deal of embarrassment. Furthermore, she discovers $30 in Ignatius’s wallet, which he was hiding from his mother despite their money troubles. In this moment, Mrs. Reilly finally understands that she can indulge Ignatius no longer. In her opinion, “everything was going wrong,” and her failure to rein in Ignatius is a large part of that (293). Her eyes become steely, her lips become “thin and firm,” and she realizes that she needs to take drastic action to deal with what her son has become (293).

“The Abelman case had passed from a purely material and physical plane to an ideological and spiritual one where universal and cosmic forces decreed that Gus Levy must wander endlessly with bucket and sponge.”

Gus Levy finds himself in a difficult position. In the process of being sued for half a million dollars, blackmailed by his wife, and faced with the prospect of his business collapsing, he tries to find out how he has reached this point. It’s not about identifying who wrote the letter to Abelman; the real search is an internal, introspective one. The letter itself is not the key to the issue. Instead, it is the owner’s complete abdication of responsibility that has run Levy Pants into the ground. Mr. Levy is not just facing a damning indictment over one letter, but his entire life up to this point. As such, the lawsuit is no longer “purely material” (305). It represents how the rejection of responsibility has brought Levy to this point. He must retake the company’s reins if he is to save himself from ruin. The lawsuit has prompted a reckoning in his mind, forcing him to confront his lifestyle, his wife, his business, and everything else.

“Claude is dumb. Okay. I’ll grant you that. Claude is all the time worrying me about them communiss. Okay. Maybe he don’t know nothing about politics. But I ain’t worried about politics. I’m worried about dying halfway decent. Claude can be kind to a person, and that’s more than you can do with all your politics and all your graduating smart. For everything nice I ever done for you, I just get kicked around. I want to be treated nice by somebody before I die. You learnt everything, Ignatius, except how to be a human being.”

The tension between Mrs. Reilly and Ignatius builds up to this point, at which it breaks and Mrs. Reilly erupts with anger. Driven to the edge of madness by her son, Mrs. Reilly finally has the opportunity to change her life forever. Claude Robichaux represents a different lifestyle, one where she does not live in a rundown shack with her demanding and infuriating son. By glimpsing this possible future and seeing how Ignatius endangers it, she concludes that she needs to stand up for herself. Mrs. Reilly confronts Ignatius at long last and argues her case for a better future. She is tired of getting “kicked around” and wants to be treated with respect (311). In this moment, she correctly diagnoses Ignatius’s lack of empathy: She tells him that all of his education and his learning have failed to teach him “how to be a human being” (311). This has a profound effect on Ignatius, who has never been talked to in this manner by his mother. “Go to hell” (312) she tells him a few lines later; by the chapter’s end, Ignatius is pleading “weakly” (316) with his mother, desperate to be treated as he was before. But when Mrs. Reilly snaps, the relationship changes forever. They are irrecoverably split apart, and the dynamic between mother and son will never be the same.

“He could see that she was beside herself with joy over finding a legitimate cause, a bona fide case history, a new movement.”

At the novel’s climax, Myrna appears for the first time. Up to this point, she has been an elusive figure, glimpsed through Ignatius’s letters, Mrs. Reilly’s complaints, and Dr. Talc’s horrified recollections. But by the time she arrives, Ignatius’s circumstances have deteriorated so severely that he is forced to rely on the woman he has repeatedly called offensive, obscene, and in need of punishment. To compel Myrna to help him, Ignatius gives her everything she wants. Myrna has long advocated for Ignatius to receive psychotherapy and other treatment. Though he has frequently insulted these proposals, he finally relents and agrees to undertake whatever Myrna recommends. At this moment, she sees purpose in him. In her communications, Myrna has been searching for a cause. She has been desperate to find a project she can make her own, and the terrified, desperate Ignatius is exactly that. Though he seems to have no real intention of changing, Myrna does not know this. She becomes “beside herself with joy” at finding such a project and is suddenly willing to help Ignatius escape from his hometown. By arriving in the narrative, Myrna forces Ignatius to vocally surrender his deepest beliefs for a chance to escape. While his promises may not be sincere, Myrna’s arrival at least helps Ignatius admit that he might need help.