A Confederacy of Dunces

A Confederacy of Dunces

Author: John Kennedy Toole

Publisher: Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

Published: 2007-12-01

Total Pages: 414

ISBN-13: 0802197620

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Winner of the Pulitzer Prize “A masterwork . . . the novel astonishes with its inventiveness . . . it is nothing less than a grand comic fugue.”—The New York Times Book Review A Confederacy of Dunces is an American comic masterpiece. John Kennedy Toole's hero, one Ignatius J. Reilly, is "huge, obese, fractious, fastidious, a latter-day Gargantua, a Don Quixote of the French Quarter. His story bursts with wholly original characters, denizens of New Orleans' lower depths, incredibly true-to-life dialogue, and the zaniest series of high and low comic adventures" (Henry Kisor, Chicago Sun-Times).


Half-Hours with the Best Humorous Authors

Half-Hours with the Best Humorous Authors

Author: Charles Morris

Publisher: Rarebooksclub.com

Published: 2013-09

Total Pages: 142

ISBN-13: 9781230001814

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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1889 edition. Excerpt: ...much like the countrywomen's plan of covering their butter when coming to market; his face was clawed all over, as if he had had it raked by a cat held fast by the tail; his head was unshorn, it being "too delicate an affair," as---said about his wife's character. His complexion suggested an idea to a philosophical young man present, on which he wrote a treatise, dedicated to Arthur Tappan, proving that a negro was only a white well pummelled; and his general swelled appearance would induce a belief he had led the forlorn hope in the storming of a bee-hive. The co1onel's manner did not exactly proclaim "the conquering hero," but his affability was undiminished, and he addressed them with, "Happy to see you, gents: how are you all?" and then attempted to enter the tavern; but Buck Daly arrested him with, " Why, colonel, I see you have had a skrimmage. How'did you make it? You didn't come out at the little eend of the horn, did you?" "No, not exactly. I had a tight fit of it, though. You know Bill Patterson; he weighs one hundred and seventy-five pounds, has not an ounce of superfluous flesh, is as straight as an Indian, and as active as a wild-cat, and as quick as powder, and very much of a man, I assure you. Well, my word was out to lick him: so I hardly put up my horse before I found him at the court-house door, and, to give him a white man's chance, I proposed alternatives to him. He said his daddy, long ago, told him never to give a liebill, and he was not good at running, so he thought he had best fight. By the time the word was fairly out, I hauled off and took him in the burr of the ear that raised a singing in his head that made him think he...