The Short, Strange Story of How A Confederacy of Dunces Was Published

The hero of my childhood was Darth Vader, but as I move further down the brier strewn landscape of middle-age I must confess that my new literary champion is Ignatius J. Reilly, of A Confederacy of Dunces. I had not read the book until recently, but my path with Ignatius crossed two decades ago while in law school. A fellow student, and alleged friend of mine, asked if I had ever read the book, and upon my response in the negative, she said that I reminded her of the main character. I, in true Ignatius fashion, assumed that she was paying me the highest of compliments, and so this self-delusion held until I finally did explore the rich world created by John Kennedy Toole. His overwhelming sloth not-withstanding, Ignatius Reilly is a lovable soul. Pompous, mischievous, forever discoursing on the decline of geometry and theology in modern culture, and in constant dread lest Fortuna spin her wheel against him, Ignatius is the anti-hero of America in the 1960s. As wonderful as the novel is itself, the story of its tortured path to publication is equally fascinating.

Walker Percy, author, professor, and the scion of a literary family, in 1972 was faced with an elderly woman thrusting a yellowed and soiled manuscript at him. The woman insisted that the work was a masterpiece, composed by her son who had taken his life only three years previously. This lady, formidable in her own right, had shopped the manuscript to eight different publishing houses, with no success. So confident was she in the content of the work that she would not give Percy any rest until he read it, which he did, hoping that it would be awful, and he could tell her so. Instead, he fell in love with the story, and declared that it was the most colorful rendition of New Orleans he had ever encountered. With his help, the novel was published in 1981. Thelma Toole, the daunting mother of the tragic author, embodied many of the characteristics infused in Ignatius Reilly, despite her protests when asked in interviews if the novel was in any way autobiographical. True, her late son by all accounts was witty, intelligent, and great company, but one need look no further than Thelma when questing the inspiration for such a dynamic character. She spent the remaining years of her life, "dining out" on the success of A Confederacy of Dunces, performing at the piano, recounting rose-colored stories of her life, ancestry, and of course her sainted son. What she omitted was that their relationship was highly contentious, and his suicide was most likely the result of their last row. So vitriolic was the note he left behind, that Thelma destroyed it, and never discussed its contents.

Shortly after the publication of A Confederacy of Dunces, Thelma unearthed the manuscript for John Kennedy Toole's fist attempt at a novel, composed at age sixteen. This work, The Neon Bible, had been set aside by the author as 'amateurish.' Thelma was hesitant about pursing publication for the work due to the inheritance laws in Louisiana, which were governed by the archaic Napoleonic Codes. She would have to share the residual income garnered from sales of the book with various relatives. Therefore, five years after her death in 1984, The Neon Bible was published.

Even though I have been gifted with more than one copy of The Neon Bible, and by virtue of my association with ThriftBooks, I have access to many more, I have yet to read it. Perhaps, I am not yet ready to again hold up so penetrating a mirror as another of John Kennedy Toole's works. When the trite, old, and waggish question, "Which of the pantheon of the dead would you ask to dinner?," is asked, my answer inevitably is that I would seat John Kennedy Toole squarely next to Eleanor Roosevelt and Winston Churchill. Evidently, he was more entertaining than any character he created.

If, like me, you have postponed reading A Confederacy of Dunces, I encourage you to delay no longer. The humor, insight, and flavor will cause you to return to the book again and again. Certainly, no trip to New Orleans should be considered without having read "A Confederacy…" first.

In closing, may Fortuna forever spin her wheel in your favor.

Read more by William Shelton