Hey, everybody, here’s what I’d like to do in terms of further discussion: Since there are a few people who aren’t quite done with the book, but who plan on finishing it tonight (Tuesday), I’d like to wait until tomorrow (Wednesday) before I post a new topic for discussion that’s specifically about the characters and story of A Confederacy of Dunces, so that everybody can get into it on more or less an equal footing.
(And a word to those of you who haven’t yet finished the book, but intend to: As I mentioned to Mary in our discussion yesterday, the very, very last pages of the book made an enormous difference for me in how I see the book, and in how much I ended up liking it overall. It’s because you may have a similar reaction that is the main reason I'm posting a more general [but no less relevant] topic for discussion today. Capische? And yes, if it’s any encouragement, that also means that I think sticking it out ‘til the end is very much worth it. So... keep going! The end's in sight!)
In the meantime, though, since some of us have found the book to be abrasive and difficult, if not downright detestable (who picked this book, anyway? oh, yeah), can you think of other books or movies you’ve read or seen that you had a similar reaction to? Or, can you think of any books or movies that you liked, or even loved, even though they had a protagonist or protagonists as objectionable (or thereabouts ;) as Ignatius J. Reilly? And in either case, why?
The first movie that comes to my mind as one that I really hated, for some of the very reasons that Jaynee said she hated Dunces, is Thelma and Louise. I loathed the two title characters; I found them so repulsive and reprehensible and inaccessible as people that I found it impossible to will myself into taking interest in their story. I just wanted to have nothing to do with them.
Mary’s inaugural pick for our beloved book blog, though, had the opposite effect on me. For the most part, I thought the protagonists of Invisible Monsters were awful; yet I happily went along for the ride with them, eager to see what trouble they’d get into next as they went from one misadventure to another.
And I’m not sure that I can explain why I had such a different take on these two stories, one a movie, one a book, putting aside their obvious differences and focusing in on the issue of why we choose to sympathize with some protagonists, warts and all, while we refuse to do so with others. I suppose the artistry of the storyteller has something to do with it, though; in my opinion, director Ridley Scott’s and (Academy Award winning! the outrage! :) screenwriter Callie Khouri’s on-screen vision was as bleak and stark and soulless as their title characters’, er, characters, while Chuck Palahniuk’s clever, quirky, unpredictable style drew me in and compensated for (and heightened my ability to laugh at) the people populating his novel.
Closely related to this discussion is something that Kara said yesterday: "Kind of like certain movies I've seen (Requiem for a Dream definitely comes to mind), sometimes there is a difference between what I like and what I think is good -- if that makes any sense. I don't really like this book...I didn't really enjoy reading it...but I definitely think it is a good book."
Well, I think what you said makes perfect sense, Kara, and the distinction you make is one I've made many times. For instance -- and I think it's pure circumstance that they're both Steven Spielberg movies -- I greatly admired A.I. (Artificial Intelligence) and Saving Private Ryan, but I can't say that I "liked", let alone "loved", either one.
In the case of the former, I find it so daunting to try to embrace a movie whose central character is a robot that I can't even wrap my head around it, let alone my heart; yet the brilliance of the manipulation going on in the film -- making a protagonist that seems human in every way, but isn't, which is a fact that the viewer must never lose sight of -- I find awe-inspiring. It's a marvelous film, but not one that's close to my heart.
And, in the case of the second Spielberg film I mentioned, the grave reality of the combat scenes, especially, as well as that of the tension experienced by the soldiers even when they're not actively fighting, keep me from emotionally embracing the movie as "a movie". I sure as hell don't want to see it again any time soon, if ever; it disturbs me profoundly. But that's exactly why I embrace it as a cultural milestone. I'm enormously grateful that I did see it, because it's helped me respect military heroes -- -particularly the everyday, regular-guy ones -- even more than I did before; and I can only applaud the genius that was able to capture that and put it on screen.
