Back in 1980, 11 years after his suicide, John K. Toole‘s Pulitzer Prize winning novel A Confederacy of Dunces was published.
His mother had finally hounded Loyola University professor Walker Percy into reading the smudged carbon-copy she had found in her son’s belongings.
He hesitated, then hoped it would be bad enough to rebuke a full reading, and then found himself captivated.
He said, “Could it really be this good?”
Why yes. Yes, it could.
And so, Ignatius J. Reilly, a 30 year old self-delusional, masturbating, sloth, who still lives with his mother, and enjoys the company of prostitutes and pimps, entered the canons of characters considered to be among the best of modern southern literature.
Here in New Orleans, we even have a restaurant that serves- up his favorites eats- sans the hookers, hysterics and hunting caps.
Thank you Ignatius.
You may have been an oaf…
3121 Magazine St.
Fresh catfish, battered in egg and salt
grilled asparagus and a
cheese grit cake.
|Cover art for
original edition of
A Confederacy of Dunces‘
Ignatius J. Reilly
John K. Toole