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I found the book to be a bit like a kiddie pool -- colorful, fun, inviting, but, while broad enough to hold many characters, ultimately very shallow. Certainly, many of the characters were given magnificent, hilarious dialogue (although Burma's constant "Hey!"s and "Whoa!"s baffled me; was he being shot at, did he have Tourette's?), but they weren't given much life; we never got to know them. Miss Trixie, Lana Lee and Mrs. Levy, for instance, were given a hook line and esentially repeated it ad nauseum for the rest of the novel. And once the roster was divided into good guys and bad guys, the book marched on to a fairly predictable end.
Even our enormous, over-educated, cripplingly neurotic, eternally belching anti-hero Ignatius was ultimately little more than a vehicle for Toole's amazing monologues. While we were given tiny glimpses of his humanity, an awful high school experience, his heartbreak over his departed dog, his secret love for the movies, we never learned what made him tick. WHY was he so rabidly averse to sex, obsessed with pre-Renaisannce history, undermotivated and fearful? What in his childhood or college experience molded him, changed him?
That said, though, the book IS pretty darned funny and has some of the most twisted twists ever. Ignatius' near-success in organizing a full-blown religious crusade with a pack of bemused, semi-literate factory workers had me rolling, and his, er... unique plan to inflitrate the armed forces to bring about a new era of world peace had to be one of the most hilariously fiendish concepts in recent memory -- it seemed as though it actually MIGHT work. All of the character plots tied together beautifully and, although their eventual outcomes are fairly obvious, the roads which led them there are anything but.
So know that this is not one of the greats, nor is there a Big Message, other than that desperate self-preservation will generally triumph over either secular humanism or staunch religious morality. Know also, though, that you will have a heck of a good time reading this. Perhaps not a leather-bound tome to be positioned among the classics in a college library, but a great addition to the pile of paperbacks in your rented beach house.
If you don't believe me, just read the prologue someday. Walker Percy recounts how this manuscript first came to his attention. He discusses how he tried and tried to get out of having to read it. Eventually he decided that he'd just read a few pages so that he could honestly say that it was no good and be done with it. But after picking up the script, he writes that he first endured a "sinking feeling" when he realized it was better than he thought; then later, he had a "prickle of interest"; finally, he writes, "surely it was not possible that it was so good."
But it is that good: it won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. The tragedy is that John Kennedy Toole isn't a better known author -- he killed himself in 1969. This book certainly is a fantastic way of keeping his memory alive.
John Kennedy Toole demonstrates a touch of genius in this indescribable satire, a genius that never got a chance to flower, as he was already dead when this book was published. His social commentary, although almost always hilarious, carries an undercurrent of despair. The multiple sub-plots and the incredible cast of characters give this novel such a rich and layered texture that a re-reading (or two or three) is almost a must. Truly one of the most unique books I've ever read.
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