Invisible Man and Ignatius Reilly: The Occasional series of Ideas for Papers on John Kennedy Toole, Part 28

I must confess that my go-to move in literary criticism is to take one work and compare it to another. In particular, I have frequently argued that an earlier work had been read by the author of a later work. That later author was then influenced by the earlier work. Many theorists of literary criticism reject this practice, and this rejection is related to the prohibition on the practice of arguing that something is present in a work because the author intended it to be there.

I recently studied Ralph Ellison's celebrated novel Invisible Man. In addition to attending to the text, I tried to read some of the criticism about it. That is an imposing task: Invisible Man holds the distinction of being the work of African American literature most studied by scholars. Indeed, Ellison spent much of the rest of his career commenting on the book himself and framing the terms of its interpretation. While I am not sure I have much to add, I thought I could weigh in with a comparison to Confederacy (naturally).

Unlike some of my comparisons, I do not claim that Toole was influenced by Invisible Man. (In point of fact, nowhere in the Toole Papers is Ellison or his work mentioned.) Instead, I would argue that Toole and Ellison were both influenced by the ideas of the Cambridge School of Classical Anthropology, the heirs to the ritual ideas contained in James Frazer's Golden Bough. Ellison, in his writings, was quite clear about the influence, citing T.S. Eliot and James Joyce as literary ancestors. He was also friends with Stanley Edgar Hyman, who was a leading critic familiar with that school.

Minor Parallels: During the section of Invisible Man where the invisible man (unnamed) disguises himself to look like Rinehart, he wears dark glasses in the nighttime. He can barely see, and what he does see has a green hue. In Confederacy, Burma Jones always wears dark glasses and can barely see. Confederacy has an entire theme of green (Ignatius's cap is green, Trixie's visor is green). What is the meaning of the green in each text?

Workplace Disasters: Both the invisible man and Ignatius are sources of disaster in the workplace. For the invisible man, when he chauffers a trustee and takes him to a brothel, he gets expelled from college, and on his first day of work at the paint factory, he manages to blow the place up. He is effective in his role as an inspirational speaker within the Brotherhood, but once he is alienated from the Brotherhood, he tries to sabotage it, and Harlem ends up in a race riot and conflagration.

Ignatius is also a source of disasters, though they are more minor and comic. At Levy Pants, he tries to foment an uprising of black workers, which fails. He eats nearly all of his hotdogs as a weenie vendor. His false letter at Levy Pants nearly gets Gus sued, but then allows him to stand up to his wife. The invisible man's failures are catastrophic and do not lead to improved relations within local social groups, while Ignatius's failures are comic, and they allow for changes in the local social order which improve the lives of other characters.

Wheels of History, and Cycles within Cycles: When the invisible man discusses with his colleague Hambro the Brotherhood's decision to sacrifice their position in Harlem, he says, "You mean the brakes must be put on the old wheel of history ... Or is it the little wheels within the wheel?" (chapter 23, page varies among editions). Related to that, the invisible man rejects the Brotherhood's view of a spiral of historical progress in favor of a theory of the boomerang of history: history is not progressive but cyclical, and it can whack you in the head.

In Confederacy, Ignatius sees himself being spun on Fortuna's wheel, but there are wheels within wheels. He writes: "So we see that even when Fortuna spins us downward, the wheel sometimes halts for a moment and we find ourselves in a good, small cycle within the larger bad cycle. The universe, of course, is based upon the principle of the circle within the circle. At the moment, I am in an inner circle. Of course, smaller circles within this circle are also possible." (1980 edition, p. 66). Ignatius sees history as rising and falling on the wheel of Fortuna. Related to these metaphors, both the invisible man and Ignatius reject leftist politics. This feature is so specific and so central to the meaning of each novel, if there was an actual influence by Ellison on Toole's thinking, it is here.

Boethius: Ellison even alludes to Boethius when he describes the musical tradition of the blues. In an essay first published in 1945 (Antioch Review 3.2, reprinted in Shadow and Act), Ellison writes that the source of the blues "is an impulse to keep the painful details and episodes of a brutal experience alive in one's aching consciousness, to finger its jagged grain, and to transcend it, not by the consolation of philosophy, but by squeezing from it a near-tragic, near-comic lyricism." Not by The Consolation of Philosophy. By comparison, within Confederacy, we do not have to go far to have Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy hit us in the head (sometimes literally).

Novelistic Style: Both Invisible Man and Confederacy reference many other works of literature and authors. Invisible Man employs a dark, existentialist humor, while Confederacy's humor is a farce in the much more straightforward, Greek New Comedy style. Barbara Foley, in her study Wrestling with the Left, observes that in the Invisible Man "the invisible man is launched into his career as the protagonist of a half-picaresque, half-bildungsroman memoir" (157). This description could be applied to Ignatius in Confederacy, except in the case of Ignatius one might question whether there is any Bildung going on.

Observing from the Periphery: The invisible man in Invisible Man ends up outside of history, writing his account from a well-lit hideaway in New York City. Ignatius Reilly also sees himself as being on the edge of his society looking from that edge inward to criticize it.

Much Deeper Connections: The invisible man is an example of the sacrificial god-king from Frazer's Golden Bough. Ignatius Reilly is a carnival / saturnalian Lord of Misrule, which is a comic and carnival scapegoat version of that dying and resurrected god.

Thesis: Compare Invisible Man and A Confederacy of Dunces. Their authors both drew on a Cambridge School tradition of meaning. I have found a lot, and there is a lot more to uncover.

ELC Theory, part 3: Evolutionary Psychology Predicts Its Own Marginalization

This blog is supposed to be about John Kennedy Toole's novel A Confederacy of Dunces (COD). However, I have been working on a parallel track on the theory and practice of evolutionary literary criticism (ELC), as is evidenced in my book chapter on the comic mechanisms in COD. This post is another installment in a new series of posts on the theory of Evolutionary Literary Criticism which have little relation to COD per se. Thank you again for your patience, my two followers.

Evolutionary Psychology (EP), the basis of ELC, has a problem with itself. In particular, Multilevel Selection Theory posits that humans have evolved mechanisms that promote and enforce group selection. For example, leaders can inspire followers to die for a cause. The followers may individually fail to reproduce, but the group that contains those followers may out-compete groups where followers did not die for their causes.

Toward this effort, irrational loyalty to the ideology of the group can be an important pro-group mechanism. The irrational loyalty could be to a religious ideal (kill the infidels), to a nation (for Mother Russia), political ideals (give me liberty or give me death), racism (master race, anyone?), or a number of other causes. I have heard it said that much of the motivation for soldiers to sacrifice is for their fellow siblings-in-arms (pronouns to be determined). Henri Tajfel showed that members of even arbitrary groups display strong group loyalty, so just identifying an arbitrary Us as opposed to an arbitrary Them can get the pro-group juices flowing.

Framing all actions in a rational framework of selection and reproduction, however, throws cold water on the ardor of group loyalty, in much the same way that students trained in modern economic theory tend to be more selfish and less altruistic in their personal lives than the average person. In this way, Evolutionary Psychology itself is a bad ideological mechanism for pro-group loyalty. It should come as no surprise that activists, those trying to rouse others to action that may cost them individually, to fight to the death as it were, are likely to reject EP. Therefore, EP predicts its own rejection because it does not provide a selective advantage.

In last month's blog entry, I discuss Judith Saunders's essay on Benjamin Franklin. Franklin in his autobiography was quite candid about using pro-social behaviors to advance his own personal worldly success. He was disparaged by 19th century intellectuals as a philistine. The rejection of Franklin is very much of a piece with the rejection of evolutionary psychology and, with it, evolutionary literary criticism.

ELC Saunders #2, Notes on American Classics (2018)

Although this blog is primarily about the novel A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole, I have also started adding entries regarding the practice of Evolutionary Literary Criticism (ELC), which is more or less the application of evolutionary psychology to literature. Here are some observations on the monograph below, a recent publication in the field. This entry is observation number two.

Saunders, Judith P. American Classics: Evolutionary Perspectives. Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2018.

This month's discussion: Saunders's essay on The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin does an excellent job of showing that Franklin taught readers how to be pro-social in a sense of David Sloan Wilson's Multilevel Selection Theory. Franklin has been criticized for seeing no contradiction between gaining wealth and gaining in virtue. One of his saving qualities is the fact that he is so open about his goals and self-deprecating in his candid grasping for worldly success that one cannot accuse him of being underhanded.

Saunders makes a good point that the Franklin system might not work in an economy that is not growing at an exponential rate. In a booming, exponential economy, a reputation for being an honest partner in transations is highly valued and bullying is easily punished by shunning in the market. Franklin's somewhat fictionalized personal story shows his readers how to be evolutionarily successful in a burgeoning industrial economy.

Should one want to study Franklin further in this regard, I would recommend the book The Americanization of Benjamin Franklin by Gordon S. Wood. Wood does a good job of explaining the social context of Franklin's behavior, in particular why so many Americans of the middling classes in the early Republic idealized him and why many of his contemporaries of the intellectual and elite classes hated him. If you want to be a Romantic who celebrates genius and who stands on a crag staring into the howling wind and fancies yourself to be noble, Franklin is a bounding philistine. The Romantics hated the American cultural values of working hard to amass wealth, so hating Franklin was a way for them to hate the goals common among average Americans in the early 19th century.

To bring this last observation full circle into a discussion of A Confederacy of Dunces, one could point out that Ignatius Reilly can be seen as a parody of such a Romantic genius. He rebels against the idea of being a hard-working young man.

ELC Saunders #1, Notes on American Classics (2018)

Although this blog is primarily about the novel A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole, I have also started adding entries regarding the practice of Evolutionary Literary Criticism (ELC), which is more or less the application of evolutionary psychology to literature. I begin here a short series of entries commenting on a recent monograph in the field, which is:

Saunders, Judith P. American Classics: Evolutionary Perspectives. Brighton, MA: Academic Studies Press, 2018.

Saunders' collection of essays does not begin with a theory chapter, which I find unfortunate. Saunders does not lay out her framework for analysis. If one spends too much time on theory, one may never get around to applying it, but this volume has the opposite problem. For those who would like to read this book but who are new to evolutionary psychology, I would recommend The Evolution of Desire by David Buss. Buss explores the evolutionary selection pressures on intimate relationships, a common topic in literature. Saunders relies heavily on Buss's text, as her footnotes demonstrate.

I do have to say, I like this collection. My own ELC studies often focus too narrowly on a small set of concepts, such as the heroic altruistic punisher. Saunders studies a wider range of literature than I have, and she applies a wider range of concepts. Kudos.

This month's discussion: In chapter six of the book, Saunders demonstrates that Edith Wharton repeatedly used the theme of competitive female sexual strategies. I have not applied that concept before, and I have read enough Wharton that I could have seen it myself. Briefly, women will try to foil female rivals who are competing for the same men.

The drive to do so may be irrational: the woman who does the sabatoging may herself be infertile, and her efforts may mean that the male of the story fails to reproduce at all. In Ethan Frome, Zeena prevents her husband from starting a relationship with Mattie, even though Zeena seems incapable of having children, while Mattie is described in terms that suggest that she is fertile. Applied to Ethan Frome and other Wharton texts, Saunder's analysis based on female sexual strategy is, if I may say, fruitful.

Ignatius as a Person Being Laughed at

You could call this the second in my series on "the lack of humor in Confederacy."

When I first started doing research on A Confederacy of Dunces, I trudged through all of the Amazon reviews of the book, to see if anyone there had already put forward my ideas about Chaucer's influence on Toole. One of the approximately one thousand reviews argued passionately that Ignatius Reilly was clearly a person with a mental illness. To that reviewer, the book was an extended exercise in laughing at a mentally ill person and his misfortune. Shame on all of us. This perspective is similar to Patteson and Sauret's third Ignatius, as I described in my blog entry of September 1, 2020.

Recently, I had an email exchange with Ron Bell, who wrote a Ph.D. thesis on Confederacy. He mentioned that he does not find the book funny; rather, he sees it as tragic, and because of that, as well as some other reasons, he argues that Toole himself was a nihilist. While I disagree with his overall argument about nihilism, I do agree with Dr. Bell that the reader is encouraged to laugh at Ignatius. Ignatius is ridiculed and expelled from his community, one step ahead of the guys with the straitjackets. To me, the story would be tragic if he were caught and committed, but he is a slapstick hero who, though humiliated, has escaped to bluster another day.

Toole makes Ignatius just preposterous and difficult enough that we join in the laughter at his expense, but as Patteson and Seurat argue, there are three versions of Ignatius. The first is the crusader for theology and geometry, which is how Ignatius describes himself. Then there is the pompous fool, as portrayed by the narrator. But there is a third Ignatius who is emotionally vulnerable and pitiable. Seen from Ignatius's private point of view, as someone who is hiding from the humiliations of the world, one could read Confederacy and not find it funny.

Special Edition: Bissell's Take on Confederacy

Just this past Tuesday, January 5, 2021, The New Yorker magazine posted on their website an essay on Toole's A Confederacy of Dunces entitled The Uneasy Afterlife of A Confederacy of Dunces. It was in their column "Second Readings," and it situated Confederacy within our present political moment. I would like to share my own thoughts about the essay.

The article points out, correctly, that Ignatius J. Reilly is extremely reactionary in his politics. He doesn't want to take our culture back to the 1950s, he wants to take it back to the 1350s. The article ends by stating that Ignatius was not an anachronism but a prediction, "the godfather of the Internet troll, the Abraham of neckbeards, the 4chan edgelord to rule them all."

It is certainly true that Ignatius is such a reactionary. Nevertheless, I feel that the narrator makes it abundantly clear that Ignatius's views are being ridiculed in the book. Ignatius is a carnival demon who stirs up chaos, but who is then expelled from the community as it puts itself back together. But there is some question as to what the real-world political implications are even for a fictional position that is being ridiculed. Further, although Ignatius's position is ridiculed, he successfully criticizes the liberal values and institutions of the modern world. The book is, as McNeil said, a reverse satire. Modernity is satirized, but then the position of the satirist is satirized. That having been said, it is rare in literature for modern life to be critiqued not from the left but from the far right.

I feel that Toole's own position was supporting the center, as Bissell himself opines. The part of the ending that is positive is the story of the Jewish factory owner who ends his alienation and rededicates himself to his company. When he does so, he hires the book's Black character. His epiphany occurs when he watches a barge full of tractors being shipped from New Orleans to Liberia. Not exactly a 4chan ending.

In the book, Ignatius is friends with a would-be leftist revolutionary, Myrna Minkoff. They both attack the dominant social order, but from different directions. An interesting parallel in our contemporary society is the fact that the far-right will take ideas and tactics from the left. Trump in 2016 did exactly what Bernie Sanders had envisioned: he activated citizens who were not typically voters. The pollsters got the election wrong because they had not counted votes from this normally alienated demographic group. And many of those voters had Bernie Sanders as their second choice behind Trump. In Confederacy, Myrna's leftist position is portrayed as just as ridiculous as Ignatius's theological authoritarianism. Just as Stephen Jay Gould slammed the thinkers on the Darwinian right by equating them with creationists, Toole slams the radicals on the left by equating them with an advocate for the divine right of kings.

Bissell quotes Rosenbaum's statement that "a fair amount of the author's ridicule and venom is reserved for female liberals and liberationists." I think that is a fair statement. The two blocking characters other than Ignatius whose social status is knocked down in the novel are women: Lana Lee and Mrs. Levy. Mrs. Levy especially is the rich liberal whose well-meaning foolishness causes problems. Lana Lee is the strong, sexually assertive, independent businesswoman, and in the end, she is a corrupter of children who is condemned to a purgatory in jail. Myrna for her part is foolish, but she is actually a decent person, just obtuse. Her schemes fail, but they fail in much the same way that Ignatius's schemes fail. Regarding feminism, the criticism of the book is well-placed.

With regard to the feminine, the critical role played by Southern women in the publishing history of the book is noteworthy. Ken Toole's mother, Thelma, was essential to publication, because she salvaged it and championed it. I have elsewhere argued that because she decided to destroy the later revisions and submit the first draft, her editorial power almost raises her to a level of co-author. (For more details, see Ken and Thelma by Joel Fletcher.) Next, the person at Simon and Schuster who promoted the book was Jean Ann Jollett, the editorial assistant who brought the book to the attention of Robert Gottlieb. (For more details, see Ken and Thelma by Joel Fletcher and Butterfly in the Typewriter by Cory MacLauchlin.) Third in this chain was Bunt Percy. Thelma may have cornered Walker Percy and demanded that he read the manuscript, but he didn't. Instead, he gave it to his wife, Bunt, and he read it only after she endorsed it. (This is recounted in Butterfly in the Typewriter by Cory MacLauchlin.) So feminists may come out poorly in the novel, but the text was brought to us by women, and, in particular, Southern women.

One overriding character trait of Ignatius is his immaturity, and one can argue that it is a characteristic shared by the trolls and edgelords within our society. Trump himself seems to be borderline mentally ill in his immature narcissism. He seems unable to understand that the outside world exists. "Being true" in his mind is not being factually accurate to the external world but being loyal to himself. The question is: can we get him into that white Renault and pack him off to New York?

Mad Men's Michael Ginsberg and Ignatius Reilly: The Occasional series of Ideas for Papers on John Kennedy Toole, Part 27

In episode two of season seven of the TV show Mad Men, the character Michael Ginsberg walks into an elevator wearing Ignatius Reilly's trademark hunting cap with large ear flaps. He is with Peggy Olson and Stan Rizzo. That scene takes place on Valentine's Day, and he tells Stan that Peggy's calendar says she will be masturbating gloomily. Hmmm. A reference to Confederacy?? What could be more like Ignatius than to masturbate gloomily? (Unrelated to the Ignatius connection, the cap has a button on it that says, "Nixon was Rosemary's Baby.")

In previous episodes, Ginberg starts to look gradually like Ignatius Reilly. He grows a bushy moustache. His clothes gradually become disheveled. Let's go over the ways in which Ginsberg seems to conform to the Ignatius reference and the ways in which the two diverge.

Parallels: Ignatius rails about the evils of the modern office and modern technology and about how modern technology might drive him insane. Ginsberg eventually has a psychotic break after the creative zone of the office suite is replaced by a large computer room. Ignatius is suspected by others, especially Myrna, of having homosexual tendencies. Ginsberg is afraid that the computer is causing him to become a homosexual. He sees Lou and Cutler talking in the computer room and decides that they are homosexuals and that the computer has caused them to commit unnatural acts.

Ignatius is obsessed with his pyloric valve, seeing it as an independent agent, a Cassandra which tells him things. Ginsberg believes that the computer hum in the office is causing pressure to build up in his body which has to be released, so he cuts off one of his own nipples to let the pressure out. At the end of Confederacy, Ignatius barely escapes commitment to a mental hospital. In Ginsberg's last scene he is hauled off to a mental hospital, shouting to Peggy, "Get out while you still can!" Finally, John Kennedy Toole taught for a brief period at Hunter College in New York before he wrote Confederacy, and Michael goes on a date in an earlier episode with a young woman who was graduating from Hunter. Although Confederacy was published at the end of the 1970s, it was largely written in 1963, so it is a period piece of the 1960s, and Mad Men tries to recreate the 1960s.

Differences: First, Ginsberg is actually productive at his job and talented. He is a bit of an eccentric genius; Ignatius only thinks he is a genius. Second, Ginsberg seems to have a genuine psychotic break, whereas Ignatius is more of a picaro, trickster, or fool. Third, the religions are reversed for the characters: Michael is Jewish and Peggy is Catholic, whereas Ignatius is Catholic and Myrna is Jewish. Fourth, Ignatius is a mama's boy, while Michael has no mother. He was born in a concentration camp where his mother died.

More central to the characters, Ignatius's grotesque qualities are important, whereas such qualities are not central to Ginsberg. In my paper "The Dialectic of American Humanism," I show that, in Renaissance astrology, a child of Saturn could be either a genius or a beast. Ignatius sees himself as a genius, but he conforms to all of the negative, beastly qualities of a child of Saturn. Michael does not have that philosophical dichotomy.

Lauren, my wife, made the connection when she saw Ginsberg in the elevator, and she deserves credit for this insight. We have been watching the TV show Mad Men (2007-2015) on DVD. (I highly recommend all of the audio commentaries with Matt Weiner, the creator and auteur of the show.) Thanks, Lauren! oxoxox

I normally like to leave a lot of potential detail out of items in this series, so that you, dear reader, can explore them. However, with COVID-19 stalking the land, I think I will lay out my cards just to prove that I was holding some cards. This item is substantial enough that I thought about sending it to Notes on Contemporary Literature.

Thesis: Compare the Michael Ginsberg character with Ignatius Reilly. IMHO, the likelihood of an intentional reference by Weiner and his team is about ninety percent.