What can I say - this is either one of the books that you love, or one of the books you hate - there doesn't seem to be much middle ground. The main character Ignatius Reilly is a pompous, overstuffed windbag with a medieval turn of mind. Reilly is a man with his own impractical, insightful, irascible, insane opinions, and he is not afraid to let you hear about them - on Big Chief tablets, and written in crayon. This book is an unpredictable stroll through New Orleans' French Quarter. The characters are original, and lovingly drawn. My biggest regret about this book is that the author, John Kennedy Toole committed suicide before the world could know his voice better.
