106 pages • 3 hours read
John Kennedy TooleA Confederacy of Dunces
Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1980A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
Symbols & Motifs
Hats and Clothing
Right from the opening sentence, the novel introduces clothing—and in particular, hats—as a recurring theme. The “green hunting cap” that squeezes Ignatius’s “fleshy balloon of a head” is the first image conjured, followed by a description of Ignatius’s outfit (6). The clothes are an example of the objective correlative; even before the character himself is introduced, the audience has learned about him through the absurd, out-of-place nature of his clothing. The flaps of Ignatius’s hat, which function like turn signals, provide important character insight: with both flaps raised, Ignatius is signaling that he is capable of turning in any direction at any time. He is unreliable, unpredictable, and clothed in the strangest fashion.
The motif repeats when Ignatius and his mother enter the Night of Joy. There, Ignatius raises and lowers the flaps of his hat to hear people better. He meets Darlene, whose ambition in life is to take her clothes off for a living. Most notably, however, they meet Dorian Greene. Dorian recognizes the strange nature of Mrs. Reilly’s hat and offers to purchase it from her. He buys it for $15, the equivalent of several days’ pay, because he recognizes its value as a comical item. Where Dorian values the hat’s kitsch and camp aesthetic, other characters only value its qualities as an actual hat. This purchase signals the disconnect between the Reillys and the rest of society.
Perhaps the character most obviously linked to the recurring motif of clothing is Mancuso. As a form of punishment, the policeman is told to dress is a series of ridiculous disguises in the hope that he will trick criminals and be able to arrest them. This plan fails. Dressed in his fake beard, his Santa Claus outfit, or his silk suit, Mancuso is perpetually out of place. Even those who might genuinely be arrested—such as Dorian or Timmy—see straight through the disguise and know to avoid Mancuso at all costs. The disguise, then, serves the opposite of its true intention. Each disguise is so over the top that it only serves to notify everyone in the immediate vicinity that Mancuso is a police officer. In this instance, clothing functions as a punishment and a herald, a warning sign for the criminal underclasses to be on their best behavior.
Ignatius escalates the absurdity of his outfit by dressing in a pirate costume. However, due to his considerable size, not all of the outfit fits him. This results in Ignatius wearing a fake gold earring and carrying a plastic cutlass around the streets of New Orleans. Technically, the aim is to attract more customers and to sell more hot dogs. But, as with Mancuso’s disguises, the clothing undermines the character’s objectives at every turn. People steer clear of Ignatius and consider him a strange man. He is accepted into a gathering of homosexuals because of his outfit, and he fails to generate a particularly noticeable boost in his hot dog sales. Rather than earning income, Ignatius’s pirate costume only lands him in even more trouble. Though he thinks it looks “fetching,” the rest of the world disagrees (265). Once again, Ignatius’s disconnect from society is evidenced by his mode of dress.
Cars
Throughout the novel, cars function as economic signifiers. The type and condition of a car inform the audience (and the other characters) about the nature of the person driving it, as well as the passengers inside. Other vehicles in the text also function as symbols—the bus represents Ignatius’s fear of the world outside New Orleans, for example—but the ubiquity of the car as a vehicle of choice means that it is easier to compare and contrast the characters based on their choices.
The first car to make a real appearance is the 1946 Plymouth driven by Mrs. Reilly. The car is old and noticeably different from those around it; the Plymouth is “easy to find in supermarket parking lots” due to its height and color (26). As a rickety, slow vehicle, it represents the relative poverty in which Ignatius and his mother live. More importantly, it is driven by Mrs. Reilly while Ignatius sits in the back. His refusal to conform to societal norms is again apparent, and the symbolic meaning is clear: Ignatius treats his mother like a hired driver, demanding to be driven around while he sits in the back and complains. The seating arrangement inside the Plymouth is indicative of their relationship early in the story.
At the other end of the economic spectrum is Mr. Levy. As the owner of Levy Pants, Mr. Levy is considerably richer than Ignatius and his mother, so he drives a sports car. As such, his choice of vehicle is both far more expensive and far less practical. His wife criticizes his choice of car, noting how useless it is compared to sedans, and adds it to the list of negative qualities she notices in her husband. But the sports car symbolizes Mr. Levy’s heightened economic power: He does not need his car to be useful (as the Reillys do), he simply needs it to look good and to provide enjoyment. It is an example of conspicuous consumerism, in that he wishes to be seen driving the sports car. Because of his wealth, Mr. Levy does not need to trouble himself with minor issues like trunk space or reliability. He can afford to drive whatever he pleases and so chooses to drive an impractical car to emphasize this point.
The final car to make an appearance in the novel is Myrna’s old Renault. Like the Plymouth, it is not a particularly aesthetically pleasing car, nor is it quick or powerful. Indeed, Ignatius describes it as a “go-cart” (334). It does, however, suit Myrna’s character. It is small, practical, and packed full of leaflets for unattended political lectures. It allows her to drive through the night to visit Ignatius when she believes him to be in trouble and, even if Ignatius considers it a “deathtrap,” it provides him a method of escape (334). He must use the Renault to achieve what the bus could not, to permanently move beyond the borders of New Orleans. This time, he is desperate. Though he sits in the back, he reaches out and takes hold of Myrna’s hair for comfort. It is a small gesture, but in physically communicating with the driver from his position in the back seat, Ignatius is crossing a divide. While he might not be fully reformed, his actions inside the car indicate that he may be capable of reform in the near future.
Language
One of the most important recurring motifs in A Confederacy of Dunces is language and the way it is deployed by different people. There is a marked difference in the characters’ speaking styles. Ignatius possesses an academic lexicon, which ensures that most of the other characters regard him with amusement, suspicion, and (very occasionally) admiration. Jones, however, speaks in a thick New Orleans dialect that is expressed phonetically. While many characters speak with an accent or in a local style, Jones is the most ensconced in regional vernacular and is notable for his heavy dialect.
Ignatius wields his academic experience like a weapon. Whenever he encounters someone or something that he does not like, he does not hesitate to offer criticism. Often, this criticism arrives in a string of multisyllabic words and classical allusions. He tells his mother than she is “congenitally incapable of arriving at decision” (45) and describes one woman as a “negation of human qualities” (25). Such insults are lost on others, and their novelty value allows him to get away with insulting many people without angering them; were Ignatius to insult them in coarser language, he would likely find himself in a lot more trouble. However, this use of academic language occasionally endears him to other characters. Mr. Gonzalez is initially very impressed with Ignatius and appreciates his way of speaking. He describes Ignatius’s presence in the office as lending Levy Pants “a certain tone” (74). The use of academic language endears Ignatius to Gonzalez and helps him secure a job. Ironically enough, that same language almost dooms the company when Ignatius decides to write a letter to Abelman, a letter that is easily linked to Ignatius due to his vocabulary. Whether Ignatius’s academic language improves his life or endangers his existence, it constantly marks him as different and separate from the rest of society.
Jones’s dialect functions in a similar manner, though with a slight variation. His distinctly local accent represents the true language of New Orleans. It is not tempered by academia, education, or travel outside of the city. Rather, Jones’s vocabulary, accent, syntax, and vocal mannerisms represent one of the text’s most authentic voices. Though his style of speaking is noticeably different, he remains incredibly local; Jones belongs to New Orleans in a way that Ignatius does not, even though both men are equally entwined with the city. As such, Jones and his dialect represent a more inclusive form of language. Whereas Ignatius’s every word marks him as separate, Jones’s every word marks him as more similar, at least to those characters who are from New Orleans. If Ignatius is a product of academia, then Jones is a product of the city. Ignatius’s language symbolizes a separate otherness, while Jones’s language symbolizes an authentic sense of belonging.
