Family ties add surprising dimensions to even the most torturously banal of romances. The literary options are truly endless; family bonds can represent both complexity and simplicity and provide characters with both adversity and pacification. The intricate interaction between mother and child has particularly saturated the author's mind since the dawn of literature. In A Confederacy of Dunces, author John Kennedy Toole uses the sacred union between mother and child in an unprecedented way. In particular, the attitudes and activities of Irene Reilly and her son Ignatius set the tone of the novel and guide the course of events. Although Irene and Ignatius Reilly are both inherently insecure and unassertive, they attempt to remedy these debilitating traits in contrasting ways. Irene improves herself, while Ignatius pursues negativity; Irene attempts high fashion, socialization, and domination, while her son pursues pomposity, malice, and gluttony. The psyche of the mother and son clan abandons default parallels and concludes the novel amid tense polarization. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay At the heart of her complex character, Irene Reilly is defined by an absolute meekness. She is lazy, unmotivated and discouraged. Living with her son, who preys on the weak, has only increased Irene's desperation. He listens to Ignatius's contemptuous criticisms, but responds with silent timidity. Clueless about how to care for children after giving birth, Irene often attempts to thwart her son's seemingly endless arsenal of slights with pleasantries: Ignatius, I'll have to go to the farm tomorrow. We won't have to deal with those loan sharks, Mom. Ignatius speaks Ignatius, honey, they can put me in prison. Um. If you're going to stage one of your hysterical scenes, I'll have to go back to the living room. Actually, I think I will. (Toole 42) Choosing humiliation over dignity, Irene Reilly desperately tries to appease her son, probably out of fear that he will descend into irrational rage and physically harm her. Furthermore, Irene releases her understandably gigantic amount of stress through whining, rather than discipline and preventative measures: "What will I do with a boy like that?...He doesn't care about his poor mother. Sometimes I think Ignatius would." I wouldn't care if they put me in prison. He's got a heart of ice, that boy" (Toole 42). Irene's rhetoric embodies an attitude of inaction. Even a cursory review of the novel's inaugural chapters will provide revealing information about her default sadness and her self-destructive acceptance of the status quo. Irene , recognizing his pitifully helpless personality, spends the entire novel recovering from such melancholy. Ignatius Reilly's natural disposition is one of fervent insecurity. His facade of control and abuse deteriorates outside the confines of his mother's home by strangers, his true behavior is immediately revealed; he becomes almost comically apprehensive, doubtful and eager to please. He is so helpless and unsure of his social skills that he allows complete strangers to dictate his every action ball packed with proletarians, his desire to please the workers and protect himself, all at the expense of his dignity, is unmistakable. Ignatius recognizes his mistakes and challenges his cravings in an anxious attempt to fit in perfectly: I... turned off the switch that controlled the music. This action on my part sparked a roar of protestrather loudly and defiantly crude on the part of the collective workers... So I turned the music back on, smiling broadly and waving amiably in an attempt to acknowledge my poor judgment and gain the workers' trust. trust. (Toole 21) If Ignatius' attitude of supremacy applied to foreign environments, he would refuse to.honor the wishes of his fellow workers. Ignatius is clearly aware that he is incapable of intimidation and is afraid of the consequences of his behavior. Thus, instead of displaying impatience and loud vocal antics, he displays nothing more than a consortium of friendly gestures and a synthetic smile. Ignatius – clearly fearful of revealing his true colors and becoming a target of ridicule – tirelessly tries to conform to blue-collar culture when under pressure: "I knew I had caught up with them when many started pointing at me and laughing. I laughed. in response to show that I too shared their good humor" (Toole 21). Ignatius' inherent insecurity is exemplified by his inability to defend himself and his fierce desire to "further pacify the workers" (Toole 21). He assumes a position of weakness and acquiescence when in public, and then feels compelled to amplify his complaints when in the isolation of his mother's home. To quell her inherent insecurities, Irene Reilly attempts to take control of her destiny and image; tries to improve herself. Irene begins this project with a courageous effort to make herself more attractive. She abandons her typically banal (and stereotypically maternal) clothes in favor of clothes that she deems modern and chic. Exercising both desperation and style, Irene clumsily attaches an article of botanical beauty to her awkwardly matching dress: "...she added a hint of color by pinning a wilted poinsettia to the lapel of her top hat" (Toole 116) . Furthermore, he delves deeper and deeper into the realm of makeup and various facial stimulants: "His mother's (Ignatius's) brown hair was tousled across his forehead; his cheekbones were red with lipstick that had been rubbed nervously up to his eyeballs. One wild puff full of dust had whitened Mrs. Reilly's face" (Toole 16). Although many think her newfound awareness of superficiality has turned her into a fashion catastrophe, Irene is steadfastly proud of her newfound elegance. Irene's attempted transformation from functional to fabulous is a blatant attempt to legitimize her presence and boost her confidence. He recognizes that his lack of authority is the product of his lack of confidence and his sedated spirit. It recognizes that regaining one's personal prestige and social presence requires reversing this lack of confidence. He recognizes that first impressions often create long-term relationships, and so he wisely decides to boost his morale through superficial improvements. To aid her recovery from the doldrums of helpless depression, Irene Reilly initiates a constant effort to revive her social life. Irene, a widow dependent on her abusive son, has historically been a weak and lonely entity. Especially because she suffers from difficulties related to domestic life, Irene needs to reconcile her family life with social commitments. The obvious antidote to his pain is an infusion of joy, laughter and companionship. Realizing this, Irene strives to create a closer bond with her acquaintances, focusing on Santa Battaglia; achieving this goal requires appropriate clothing, frequent phone conversations and trips to the bowling alley. Ignatius immediately notices the influx of companionsher mother and responds with her characteristically cynical and derisive rhetoric: My mother is currently in the company of some undesirables who are attempting to turn her into some sort of athlete, depraved specimens of humanity who regularly bowl their way through. to oblivion. I sometimes find pursuing my burgeoning work career quite painful, suffering as I do from these distractions at home. (Toole 101) Ignatius, perhaps jealous of his mother's increasing socialization, constantly mocks his mother's social efforts, but to no avail. Irene steadily strengthens her public visibility as the novel progresses. Although her behavior remains relatively morbid, Irene's efforts to infuse companionship into her meanderings generate tangible results. Irene changes her appearance, her daily schedule, and her attitude toward strangers. Above all, Irene increasingly confides in her acquaintances, especially about Ignatius's ruthless behavior. Irene's embrace of social vitality, which contrasts with Ignatius' defeatism, saves her from the brink of an irreversible hermitage. To directly combat her declining lifelessness, Irene adopts an aggressive attitude towards her son, Ignatius. Irene gradually replaces her prototypical acquiescence with a newfound voice of dominance, resilience, and independence. Irene increasingly objects to Ignatius's demoralization and becomes increasingly willing to criticize her son's generally reprehensible actions. With the novel's conclusion, Irene does the unthinkable; takes full control of his son's future and decides to send him to the humble realities of institutional incarceration: "I've finally made up my mind. Now is the time. He's my son, but we have to get him treated for his own good. ... We have to have him declared temporarily insane" (Toole 381). Irene's decision to contact Charity Hospital represents the culmination of her growing empowerment. He is no longer Ignazio's pawn and no longer gives in to his every request. Irene manages to reverse the status quo favored by her insecurity; she began the novel as the dominated entity and ends the novel as the primary dominator. It succeeds in relegating the incumbent tyrant to a subordinate position. Just like his mother, Ignazio is aware of his lack of assertiveness and tries to repress it; unlike his mother, Ignatius implements this policy in a patently repugnant manner. To hide his insecurity, Ignazio expresses arrogance at every juncture. He rises above all others, believing himself to be more sophisticated than the working masses and more genuine than the aristocratic classes. Believing himself too fearsome a person to take part in the culture of the stupid, Ignazio vehemently refuses to wear the hats of frankfurter distributors: "I won't wear that paper cap!... Dip your fork into my vital organs, if you wish. Don't I will wear that cap. Death before dishonor and disease" (Toole 158). Ignatius attempts to establish a respectable social presence by constantly referencing his unrivaled intelligence and physical aptitude. When conversing with his ex-girlfriend Myrna, Ignatius boasts that his amalgam of skills overwhelms others in his presence: "As the magnificence and originality of my worldview became explicit through conversation, minx Minkoff began to attach me on every level… I fascinated and confused her at the same time, in short, I was too much for her” (Toole 124). Ignazio glorifies his personality as singular and complex when in reality it is entirely primitive. His pompous rhetoric is a method of evasive self-manipulation; he tries to mask his innate insecurity by convincing himself that he has power and admiration.