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Summary: A Brilliant Work
Review: I have come to the sad conclusion that those who fail to see the humor in Toole's masterpiece are seriously lacking the genetic components which enable a human being to laugh. Yet, one individual's taste(or lack of taste) in comedy can be forgiven. What can't be so easily forgiven is the dismissal of Toole's writing ability. To say that Toole's writing is amateurish displays a questionable ability to discern quality. "A Confederacy of Dunces" is magnificent; almost unanimous raves and a Pulitzer Prize are hardly negligible affirmations of this. Toole was indeed a Maestro.
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Summary: ABSOLUTELY THE BEST BOOK ABOUT HUMAN NUANCES EVER WRITTEN
Review: nothing else to say...those who don't think it's funny, don't get the nuances of human behavior...they probably also think the movie "TWISTER" was a brilliant film. PLEASE PRAY HOLLYWOOD DOESN'T TOUCH CONFEDERACY.....it will only destroy it.
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Summary: Funniest book I have ever read
Review: This book had me laughing out loud, which I rarely do when I read a book. I had to restrain myself while reading it on public transportation. It is tragic for him and for us as readers that Mr. Toole took his life before this book was even published. I am thrilled to have found out through Amazon that another book by Mr. Toole is available (Neon Bible). I am eager to read that one.
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Summary: Fantastic. Made me a reader for life.
Review: When I read this novel my freshman year in college, I couldn't put it done. It was humorous, insightful and greatly entertaining. I recommend this for young adult readers.
Rating: 
Summary: This is terrible!
Review: Please! Pulitzer prize? I didn't know they had a prize category for terrible books. This book was so slow and horrible I just want to get it out of the house now. Funny? Funny like watching the grass grow or maybe listenig to traffic noises. Why do so many like this book?
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Summary: Talent? What talent?
Review: The amazon review says that had the author lived, his critics and fans would have had the opportunity to determine if his talent was genuine or a fluke. Oh, really? Who said he had any "talent"? What I found in this book was pure amateurism -- in plot, character development, atmosphere, you name it. If Dunces demonstrates genius, then the Three Stooges are on par with Chaplin. The amazon review also says this drivel cannot be easily dismissed. Again, says who? This is one "book" I plan to forget as soon as possible.
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Summary: I guess you have to have been there
Review: If this book was awarded the pulitzer for generating emotion in the reader then it deserves the award. Unfortunately, for me it was nausea. The lead character embodied everything about modern America that I find repulsive. Grossly fat, completely self indulgent, narrowly educated, blaming all on others, and completely disfunctional. Yuck! This book will appeal to those who enjoy the pratfalls of the Three Stooges. No joy, no hope, no sense. Stupidity and insanity are not funny.
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Summary: Without a doubt, the best book I have ever read!
Review: To review it would be to ruin it. It is a masterpiece
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Summary: It was soooo funny
Review: Confederacy is set in Toole's native city of New Orleans and revolves around one Ignatius J. Reilly, a character Percy describes as "without progenitor in any literature I know of -- slob extraordinary, a mad Oliver Hardy, a fat Don Quixote, a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one." A morbidly obese 30-year-old with an M.A. in Medieval Studies, Ignatius is unemployed and lives with his widowed mother, whom he treats bominably. He has a love-hate relationship with the 20th century, spending his days watching junk TV and going to movies, obsessing about his overtaxed digestive system and writing florid denunciations of modern culture: "Were Hroswitha with us today, we would all look to her for counsel and guidance. From the austerity and tranquility of her medieval world, the penetrating gaze of this legendary Sybil of a medieval nun would exorcise the horrors which materialize before our eyes in the name of television." Ignatius also carries on a long-distance relationship with Myrna Minkoff, an obsessively Freudian social activist from the Bronx he met at Tulane University. "Myrna was decidedly masochistic. She was only happy when a police dog was sinking its fangs into her black leotards or when she was being dragged feet-first down the steps from a Senate hearing." A drunk-driving charge and fine puts Mrs. Reilly in the unenviable position of convincing her indolent son to get a job to help pay it off. Ignatius, protesting loudly all the while, does find work of sorts; first as a file clerk at Levy Pants, a disreputable garment factory, then as a hot-dog vendor in the French Quarter. He also becomes the epicentre of an increasingly bizarre chain of events that blunders to a surprisingly just conclusion for all concerned. I know this sounds insane, but though it be madness, there's method in it. There are people who might find Ignatius too grotesque and misanthropic to be sympathetic, but discerning readers should see the core of truth in his rantings against the modern world. Ignatius' rationale to his mother for staying unemployed has a seductive logic to it: "Employers sense in me a denial of their values. 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." "All you did was paste them little slips in the books. " "Yes, but I had my own esthetic about pasting those slips. On some days I could only paste three or four and at the same time feel satisfied with the quality of my work. The library authorities resented my integrity about the whole thing. They only wanted another animal who could slop glue on their bestsellers." His mother, nearing the end of her patience, suggests at one point Ignatius try a "rest" at a public hospital psych ward, over strenuous objections: "Do you suppose that some stupid psychiatrist could even attempt to fathom the workings of my psyche? They would try to make me into a moron who liked television and new cars and frozen food. Psychiatry is worse than communism. I refuse to be a robot!" What really propels A Confederacy of Dunces, though, are Toole's strong characterizations. Working-class Italians, members of the French Quarter's thriving gay subculture, bumbling rookie cops, black factory workers, wannabe strippers, Toole captures them all perfectly. In the end though, I can only echo Walker Percy's lament: "It is a great pity that John Kennedy Toole is not alive and well and writing. But he is not, and there is nothing we can do about it but make sure that this gargantuan tumultuous human tragicomedy is at least made available to a world of readers."This is one of the funniest and most entertaining novels I have ever read. The entire novel swirls around the character of Ignatius Rielly, surely one of the most inventive creations in literature. When most adults would be out making their way in the world Ignatius still lives with his widowed mother, and spends his days writing on paper tablets copious dissertations of his intellectual views on life. Dissertations that no one will ever see or have the slightest interest in seeing. Ignatius only ventures out into the real world at the insistence of his mother, or to obtain sustenance for his enormous bulk. Yet even these infrequent forays into society invariably result in his madly disrupting the lives of those he meets. Yet all the while Ignatius remains convinced that only he has the true picture of things. The novel is set in New Orleans in the 1960's. I grew up in the Gulf Coast area during that period and can say the Toole did a wonderful job of creating the look, feel, and I would swear even smell of New Orleans at that time. It is unfortunate for all of us that Toole died at an early age (this novel was published posthumously) as he obviously had a real gift for creating outrageously funny, but still believable characters. It's been hailed as a masterpiece and reviled as trash, but A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole has never been lightly dismissed. By creating Ignatius J. Reilly, a bigger-than-life bag of wind stuffed with some of the most comically outrageous and disturbingly insightful opinions ever put to paper, Toole made an indelible mark on the landscape of American literature--a feat recognized with the posthumous publication of this novel, followed by a Pulitzer Prize. Forced to wade the lower depths of New Orleans society, the gargantuan Ignatius, his poor mother in tow, Takes us on a tour de force through the back alleys and juke joints of the French Quarter as he implores the gods, railing against the hypocrisy of contemporary politics and the crushing weight of late capitalism. "The luminous years ... dimmed into dross; Fortuna's wheel had turned... Having once been so high, humanity fell so low. What had once been dedicated to the soul was now Dedicated to the sale." Toole's suicide at 32 silenced a uniquely promising literary voice, denying his critics and fans alike the opportunity to determine whether his talent was a flash in the pan or a first spark of genius. Read A Confederacy of Dunces and you'll no doubt have formed your own inflexible opinion, which you'll defend tenaciously against all reason.
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Summary: Read this book!
Review: I will now add to the long list of praise for this masterpiece of contemporary American literary humor. However, in addition to finding it hilarious, I found it to be a poignant tale of a dreamer locked into an unaccepting world. I thought that Ignatius could represent anyone striving for greatness in a world that does not understand him. I also found the other characters to be quite realistic and well-developed in their own silly ways. This story stereotypes everyone, and it does it well. When we laugh at Ignatius, we are really laughing at ourselves and the world around us.
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