John Kennedy Toole, who won a posthumous Pulitzer Prize for his bestselling comic masterpiece A Confederacy of Dunces , wrote The Neon Bible for a literary contest at the age of sixteen. The manuscript languished in a drawer and became the subject of a legal battle among Toole’s heirs. It was only in 1989, thirty-five years after it was written and twenty years after Toole’s suicide at thirty-one, that this amazingly accomplished and evocative novel was freed for publication.
The Neon Bible opens with the narrator, a young man named David, on a train, leaving the small Southern town he’s grown up in for the first time. What unspools is the tender and tragic coming-of-age story of a lonely child, a story that revolves around David’s unorthodox friendship with his great-aunt Mae―a former stage performer who is fiercely at odds with the conservative townspeople―and the everyday toll of living in an environment of religious fanaticism.
John Kennedy Toole was an American novelist from New Orleans, Louisiana, whose posthumously published novel, A Confederacy of Dunces, won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1981; he also wrote The Neon Bible. Although several people in the literary world felt his writing skills were praiseworthy, Toole's novels were rejected during his lifetime. Due in part to these failures, he suffered from paranoia and depression, dying by suicide at the age of 31.
Toole was born to a middle-class family in New Orleans. From a young age, his mother, Thelma, taught him an appreciation of culture. She was thoroughly involved in his affairs for most of his life, and at times they had a difficult relationship. With his mother's encouragement, Toole became a stage performer at the age of 10 doing comic impressions and acting. At 16 he wrote his first novel, The Neon Bible, which he later dismissed as "adolescent".
Toole received an academic scholarship to Tulane University in New Orleans. After graduating from Tulane, he studied English Literature at Columbia University in New York while teaching simultaneously at Hunter College. He also taught at various Louisiana colleges, and during his early career as an academic he was valued on the faculty party circuit for his wit and gift for mimicry. His studies were interrupted when he was drafted into the army, where he taught English to Spanish-speaking recruits in San Juan, Puerto Rico. After receiving a promotion, he used his private office to begin writing A Confederacy of Dunces, which he finished at his parents' home after his discharge.
Toole submitted A Confederacy of Dunces to publisher Simon & Schuster, where it reached editor Robert Gottlieb. Gottlieb considered Toole talented but felt his comic novel was essentially pointless. Despite several revisions, Gottlieb remained unsatisfied, and after the book was rejected by another literary figure, Hodding Carter Jr., Toole shelved the novel. Suffering from depression and feelings of persecution, Toole left home on a journey around the country. He stopped in Biloxi, Mississippi where he committed suicide by running a garden hose in from the exhaust of his car to the cabin. After his death, his mother brought the manuscript of A Confederacy of Dunces to the attention of novelist Walker Percy, who was crucial in the book's publication. In 1981, Toole was posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.
Yeah, I've placed this on the back-burner a several times before. Why? Since "Confederacy" takes up such a large portion of my heart, my soul, I absolutely knew in my bones that this, Toole's first effort into novel-writing (& the only other one-- he wrote solely two), would suck. Of course it would. And the beginning trembles, and the plot is thin, and the observations somewhat... pedestrian? But it is nonetheless exactly what John Kennedy Toole fans like myself would die for: testament of early brilliance.
And you find it. Oh, boy. The observations belong to a kid similar to the one in "400 Blows." You read about a childhood in less time than it takes to watch that 3 hour movie "Boyhood"! And the one in "Neon Bible" is a sad one, and the ending is brutal. The nine final pages are explosive-- Toole was 16 when he composed this! What a goddamn genius...!!
The book is imperfect, and in that you see so many glimpses of what it takes to turn into a future literary titan. In his poetics, that society dictates lives and plots-- J.K.T. felt trapped and wanted to escape. Escape what? Louisiana? No. I think it was his own mindset. His devastating anti-urge. This, his first novel, is the stuff of dreams. Its a short novel that does not disappoint (it is almost antithetical to his ensemble oeuvre of "Dunces"); it hints at a grief that begins in childhood and ends, perhaps, never. At least this was the case, the tragedy that surrounds, one of the best and most enigmatic American writers of all time.
“Allá en el pueblo se apagaban las luces, y solo quedaban encendidos algunos anuncios de neón en la calle. Podía ver la gran Biblia de neón iluminada en la iglesia del predicador. Quizás también esté encendida esta noche, con sus páginas amarillas, sus letras rojas y la gran cruz en el centro.”
Mucho antes de que John Kennedy Toole fuera premiado con un Premio Pullitzer, mucho antes de la infatigable lucha de su madre por lograr que su aclamadísima novela “La conjura de los necios” se publicara, tiempo antes de su suicidio en 1969, y tres lustros antes de esa novela, Toole escribió “La Biblia de neón” a la edad de quince años en 1954 con un aplomo y genialidad propios de los escritores consagrados. Esta novela, que difiere completamente de la segunda, narra en primera persona la vida de David, el protagonista principal, desde sus cinco años hasta los dieciséis y está ambientada en la zona rural de Mississippi. Lo acompañan en la primera parte de esta travesía su padre, su madre y su particularísima tía Mae quien se transformará en el segundo personaje más importante de la novela. Contada a modo de ”bildungsroman”, los recuerdos que han quedado clavados en la mente y el corazón de David, y con remembranzas pero nunca con rencor, la novela pasa de la añoranza propia de cualquiera de las de Charles Dickens (sin envidiarles nada) hasta llegar a los acontecimientos a partir de un declive generado por los sucesos que va viviendo el personaje (la muerte de su padre en la guerra, un amor truncado, un episodio sangriento), llegando a un final triste que nos llevará a sentir conmiseración por David y su vida sin brillo, desdichas y soledad. La novela también contiene en forma intrínseca una crítica al fanatismo religioso representado en la figura del pastor Bobbie Lee Taylor y también la alusión a temas urticantes como lo son el racismo, propio de los estados del sur en esa época como también el sexual y el social. Como indica el autor W. Kenneth Holditch en el prólogo del libro, a quien la madre de Toole, Thelma Toole le cediera los derechos de publicación de las dos novelas de su hijo, el 26 de marzo de 1969, agobiado por tantos rechazos de editores de publicar “La conjura de los necios”, John Kennedy Toole estacionó su auto en un pueblito llamado Biloxi, conectó una manguera desde el caño de escape al interior de su auto y se dejó morir. Esa irremediable pérdida privó a la literatura mundial y a nosotros los lectores de un autor que se habría cansado de escribir novelas maravillosas. Una verdadera pena, John. Descansa en paz.
It would be a significant literary achievement to write a convincing novel from the perspective of a sixteen year old narrator. It would be an even greater achievement, as here, if the author too was sixteen years old.
This novel is relatively straightforward in the way it unravels the plot. It's conventional and linear, until at the end you discover that it's actually circular. However, like "Stoner", one thing it does well is create pathos, although in this case there is nothing self-pitying about it. The novel creates empathy for the simple poor people who are struggling to build a good life in the context of not just poverty, but social ostracism.
The Sanctimoney of the Rich and Righteous Conformist
The characters in "Neon Bible" aspire to a life that happens to be different from those around them. Aunt Mae, in particular (without the model of whom it might be inferred there would be no "Neon Bible" or "A Confederacy of Dunces"), wants to resume her career as a singer and actor. David's father, Frank, plants some pine seeds on the mountain that reverse the destruction of the forests to build yet more identical white picket fence residences. His mother does her best to bring him up as a decent person despite her failing health and desperate lack of funds.
Gina Rowlands as Aunt Mae in the 1995 Terence Davies film of the novel
The novel scorns and punishes the scorners, especially those who proclaim from the pulpit of the preacher. It finds in Christianity as practised in the south of the United States (rural Mississippi) an hypocrisy that is incompatible with the actual tenets of the religion. There is no sympathy for or empathy with anyone's neighbour in this rural valley community, unless they are exactly like you, a mindless, compliant believer: "If you were different from anybody in town, you had to get out. That's why everybody was so much alike." The 16 year old narrator effectively skewers the judgemental self-righteousness of some deplorable religious and political fraternities in America.
Religious Correctness
It's so easy to forget that, before so-called "political correctness" existed, society laboured under the oppressive weight of religious correctness (how often do we hear people banging on about Christian values?) for centuries. It was the most powerful tool of conformism in society. Ironically, it's this very perspective that is largely behind the conservative attack on and demonisation of political correctness, which after all is based on the Christian premise of "treat others as you would have them treat you."
The novel is carefully constructed and well-written, apart from a few inelegant adolescent sentences. At only 162 pages, it deserves to be an American classic. Highly recommended.
"Alıklar Birliği" ni geçen sene okumuş sadeliğine ve anti kahramanının güzelliğine hayran kalmıştım. yazarın bu kitaptan başka sadece bir kitabı daha olduğuna üzülmüştüm. Erken yaşta intihar etmesi, yaşayışı yazara daha çok ilgi göstermeme neden olmuştu. Sadece bir kitabını okuyabildiğim için üzgündüm. Taa ki bir arkadaşım bana bu kitabı hediye edene kadar. Neon Bible in Türkçeye çevrilmiş olmasına sevinmiştim ama o kitabın hediye edilmiş olmasına çok ama çok daha fazla sevindim.
Kitabı dehşetle okudum. Bir insan 16 yaşında böyle bir kitabı nasıl yazar. 1930 larda Amerikanın güneyinde geçen bu öykü sadeleğine çok kitapta rastlamadığım bir dille yazılmış ama o sade anlatımın altında öyle şeyler var ki insan yutkunmadan edemiyor. Kitabın önsözü de bugün artık örneğine çok rastalayamayacağımız ve kitaba yakışır sadelikte yazılmış. Ne kadar erken gitmiş Toole, yaşasaydı neler yazacaktı diye düşünmeden edemiyorum ben de.
"If somebody got to hate something and he was the right person, everybody had to hate it too, or people began to hate the ones who didn't hate it."
John Kennedy Toole wrote this novel when he was just fifteen years old, though it wasn't published until 20 years after his death by suicide at the age of thirty-one.
His mother went from publisher to publisher until she found one who saw the brilliance in A Confederacy of Dunces (which won a Pulitzer Prize) and agreed to publish. Later she found this manuscript, though due to legal issues, it wasn't published until after her death.
I was surprised by the quality of writing from a fifteen year old. It could have used a little tidying up but it's still a terrific and insightful novella.
It's set in the 1940s and is about a kid named David. His showgirl aunt comes to live with them and young David can't help but notice the judgmentalness of the people in his small Southern town.
As he gets older, he sees it more and more, noticing how anyone who is different in any way is targeted for ridicule and is shunned.
Most people in this town are religious and he sees how some of these people use their religion to justify their hatred and treatment of those they deem beneath them.
Worst of all is the Baptist preacher: "I was getting tired about what the preacher called Christian. Anything he did was Christian, and the people in his church believed it, too. If he stole some book he didn't like from the library, or made the radio station play only part of the day on Sunday, or took somebody off to the state poor home, he called it Christian. I never had much religious training, and I never went to Sunday school because we didn't belong to the church when I was old enough to go, but I thought I knew what believing in Christ meant, and it wasn't half the things the preacher did."
Reading this book, I kept wondering what all the author might have accomplished and written if he hadn't died so young. I wonder if there were other manuscripts that he destroyed before his death, leaving only The Neon Bible and Confederacy of Dunces behind.
I also couldn't help but wonder if Toole felt "different" than the people in his town and was treated badly because of it, or perhaps he was made miserable by having to hide his "differences". Did this in some way lead to his suicide?
Aside from being well written and insightful, The Neon Bible is an interesting story and young David is a character you can't help but like and feel sympathy for. There's not a lot of action. The story is propelled by David's insights into how and why so many of the adults around him need to raise themselves above other people and cast them aside because of what they see as differences.
It's well worth reading if any of this interests you. It's only 162 pages and a quick read.
Da pena pensar dónde podría haber llegado John Kennedy Toole de no haberse suicidado a tan temprana edad. Sin lugar a dudas era un genio. 'La Biblia de neón' fue la primera novela que escribió, siendo apenas un adolescente, y sólo puedo decir que es una obra con fuerza, con imágenes indelebles que permanecen a fuego en la memoria tras varias horas después de su lectura.
Toole nos cuenta la historia de David y de su familia en un pueblo sureño de Estados Unidos, cuya población, o la mayor parte de ella, se deja influenciar fácilmente por su predicador. La novela está narrada en primera persona por David, un adolescente que viaja en tren no sabemos hacia adónde. A través de David, conoceremos a sus padres, y sobre todo su relación con la tía Mae, una mujer algo llamativa y con un gran corazón, que escandaliza a todo el pueblo con sus actitudes.
Las impresiones que deja la lectura de 'La Biblia de neón' son de soledad, compasión y tristeza, pero también de una enorme rabia, por la mezquindad e hipocresía de la gente.
A algunos niños les regalan una bici el día de su cumpleaños. A David le regalaron un mundo que ya tenía decidido qué debía ser y cómo debía comportarse, antes incluso de que pudiera atarse los cordones. Y en ese paquete venía incluida la letra pequeña: callar, encajar, obedecer.
Imagina esto: una calle estrecha de un pueblo sureño, las persianas medio bajadas para que no entre el calor —ni las miradas—, el sonido de un sermón filtrándose desde la iglesia del final de la calle. Allí crece David, aprendiendo que en ese lugar hasta el aire tiene reglas. Porque hay sitios donde nacer es como entrar en una obra de teatro con el guion ya escrito. Ni eliges el papel, ni las frases, ni la forma de salir a escena. Solo te queda seguir el libreto o convertirte en el raro. David eligió —o le tocó— lo segundo.
¿Alguna vez has sentido que el mundo ya ha decidido quién vas a ser antes de que tú siquiera tengas edad para elegir tus propios zapatos?
David sí. Y no, no me refiero a mí. Hablo del David de La biblia de neón, un chaval que no pidió nacer en una pequeña ciudad del sur de Estados Unidos donde el aire es tan denso como los prejuicios. Un niño que, mientras otros descubren el béisbol o los primeros besos, él aprende lo que duele ser distinto. Y no me refiero a una diferencia espectacular, sino a esa clase de diferencia sorda, íntima, que se te queda en los huesos y te convierte en sospechoso antes de abrir la boca.
John Kennedy Toole escribió esta novela con solo dieciséis años. Sí, dieciséis. La misma edad que el futbolista que deslumbró en la Eurocopa y que tuvo al país en éxtasis en el verano de 2024. Solo que Toole no marcaba goles: escribía novelas como si llevara cien vidas sufriéndolas por dentro. Mientras media Europa celebraba goles adolescentes como si fueran milagros, uno se pregunta por qué no hablamos también de este chico de dieciséis que, en vez de regates, dejó escritas páginas que duelen.
Quizás ahí está el milagro: que con tan poca edad, y sin ningún balón de por medio, Toole lograra escribir algo así. Pero que nadie espere aquí fuegos artificiales. La biblia de neón no es un ensayo precoz de alguien que quiere jugar a escritor. Es un grito prematuro, torpe a veces, pero genuinamente desesperado, que anticipa el tono sombrío y lúcido que luego perfeccionaría en La conjura de los necios. Aunque, ojo, esto no es una novela de humor. Aquí no hay Ignatius J. Reilly que salve la cosa con sus desvaríos barrocos. Esto va por otro camino. Más silencioso. Más jodido.
La historia sigue a David desde su infancia hasta su adolescencia, atrapado en un entorno asfixiante donde cada gesto, cada mirada, está cargada de sospecha. Su madre, su padre, el predicador del pueblo, la tía Mae que entra como un vendaval a sacudir las telarañas de esa casa gris... todos orbitan en torno a una estructura narrativa lineal, sencilla, casi como un diario íntimo. Pero es justo ahí donde Toole acierta: la voz de David, narrada en primera persona, tiene la textura de lo que no se puede decir en voz alta. Hay una melancolía que se filtra por cada página, una tristeza sin nombre que recuerda a El guardián entre el centeno, pero sin sarcasmo y sin Nueva York de fondo. Aquí no hay taxis ni bares de jazz: hay iglesias, camisas blancas bien almidonadas y una intolerancia que se camufla bajo sermones de domingo.
Hay ecos lejanos de Faulkner, no tanto por el estilo, sino por esa atmósfera donde el pecado se masca y el perdón ni se espera. También hay algo de Truman Capote, de Carson McCullers, de esos retratistas del sur que sabían mirar a la vez con ternura y con bisturí. Y sí, La biblia de neón aguanta esa comparación sin rubor. Toole maneja los diálogos y los monólogos interiores con una precisión que sorprende para su edad, y la prosa —contenida, sin alardes— sabe cuándo callar para que el lector escuche mejor. Hay escenas que se te quedan zumbando como un mosquito en verano. Basta una conversación madre-hijo o una visita al supermercado para que entiendas que ahí dentro no hay ni luz ni salida de emergencia.
Y es precisamente en ese encierro emocional donde aparece uno de los logros más inquietantes de la novela: cómo retrata el aislamiento. No el físico, sino ese otro, más corrosivo: el de crecer en un lugar donde la sensibilidad es vista como una amenaza. David no es un mártir, ni un héroe trágico: es un chaval que intenta encontrar una rendija por donde respirar. Ahí es donde a algunos les recordará al Stoner de John Williams, ese profesor callado que vive más de lo que aparenta. Pero con una diferencia: David ni siquiera ha llegado a ser hombre, y ya carga con una culpa que no entiende del todo.
Los personajes secundarios están delineados con trazos rápidos pero eficaces. La madre, víctima silenciosa de un sistema que la revienta poco a poco. El padre, ese fantasma con nombre y nómina, ausente incluso cuando está presente. Y la tía Mae, esa aparición como de otra galaxia literaria, con sus historias de cabarets y fracasos, que introduce una chispa de rareza —y casi de ternura— en un universo tan reprimido que da claustrofobia. No es casual que sea ella quien le enseñe a David que el mundo puede ser otra cosa. No le da alas, pero al menos le señala el cielo.
Y luego está el peso de la religión. No como fe, sino como jaula. Como estructura opresiva que define lo que es decente, lo que es aceptable, lo que es pecado. El título lo dice todo: La biblia de neón. Esa contradicción entre lo sagrado y lo vulgar, entre lo espiritual y lo comercial. En esta novela, la iglesia no salva; más bien condena. Y Toole lo sabe. Lo intuye con la rabia de quien ya entendía que el peor daño a veces se hace desde el púlpito, con sonrisa y mano en el corazón.
Si has leído La conjura de los necios, notarás que aquí falta el humor grotesco. Pero no la sensación de extranjería. Ignatius y David son dos formas de no encajar. La diferencia es que uno se defiende atacando, y el otro solo mira, traga y sigue andando.
Y como todo primer grito, no es perfecto. A ratos, se le notan las costuras. Tiene momentos donde la trama parece diluirse, donde los símbolos resultan algo obvios, y donde se nota que el autor aún estaba encontrando su voz. Tenía dieciséis años, ¡joder! Pero precisamente por eso conmueve tanto. Porque no es una obra escrita desde la distancia, sino desde dentro del dolor, desde el barro. Es como leer una carta que alguien nunca se atrevió a enviar, pero que tú encuentras por accidente en una caja vieja y, sin quererlo, te parte en dos.
En el fondo, La biblia de neón es el lamento de alguien que aún no sabe que escribir puede salvarte, aunque solo sea un rato. Y es difícil no leerla con un nudo en la garganta cuando sabes que Toole no llegó a ver publicada ninguna de sus novelas en vida. Que ese chico de dieciséis años que escribió sobre un adolescente atrapado, también acabó atrapado por sus propios fantasmas.
Quizá Toole no se sentó nunca en esa mesa con Capote, McCullers, Harper Lee o Salinger. Pero dejó su silla vacía y bien puesta, por si acaso alguien se atrevía a mirar bajo el mantel de la historia.
Y ahora dime tú: ¿cuántos libros conoces escritos desde esa clase de soledad? Porque yo, muy pocos. Y casi ninguno me ha dejado tan desarmado.
It can't compare to CoD but it was a fun read, best enjoyed as an appetizer to Toole's masterpiece. He might have been a great writer in an alternate universe. Instead he gave us 2 posthumous and quirky works. This youthful effort is both nostalgic and generic. One must always wonder how much editorial rewriting went on behind the scenes when so many years intervened between the author's death and the publisher's efforts.
The self-doubt is more heavy-handed in this one than in Confederacy, which is really becoming required reading in American fiction these days, despite its detractors. This is an offshoot, an unnecessary sidetrack, but when it is the only other piece of fiction he delivered, worth a look-see. There is no way to truly understand the author's life and troubles now, we can only intimate how such a fate produced these two disparate works.
The novel itself is digestible, quintessentially American in flavor, strange and readable, if not memorable, at least bittersweet and raw.
Just ok. I struggled to get interested in this book, found myself grinding through it just to finish. Disappointed, because Dunces is one of my favorite of all time.
I really wanted to like this, I really don't want to criticise the writing of the teenage John Kennedy Toole, but the fact is that this is a book that was only published because of greed. It could have used an editor but mostly it could have used not being written by a 16 year old. He was clearly a very talented young man, his writing is beyond anything I can imagine a 16 year old writing today lololololjkjkjkjkjk but still this reads as though written by a naive boy.
Neon Bible has been compared to the work of Flannery O'Connor, Eudora Welty and Carson McCullers but having seen the pleasure these writers have given GR friends Jeffrey and Melanie I can't imagine they are on a whole different level to this.
For those intrigued by the only other book written by a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist only.
Una novela de lo más lúcida que, sin muchas pretensiones, desde lo cotidiano, esboza la atmósfera de estulticia y fanatismo de las pequeñas comunidades del sur de Estados Unidos. Lo que más sorprende es que el malogrado Toole escribió esta novela al acabar el instituto. Según los tópicos literarios, todos los adolescentes son entusiastas de Jules Verne y sueñan con aventuras y temas fantásticos. Toole no, él se saltó el libro de estilo y cultivó esta novelita, que se sostiene en una mirada desencantada respecto una comunidad rural y retrata a través de la infancia y la adolescencia de David, su narrador, los años previos a la II Guerra Mundial y los inmediatos, un tiempo con cartillas de racionamiento y de fuerte rechazo a lo diferente.
En cambio, el lema que sí cobra aquí importancia es el de "pueblo pequeño, infierno grande". La tía Mae, sin duda la principal estrella de la función, viene a ser todo lo que esa comunidad detesta y por eso la familia de David, el narrador, es puesta en el disparadero. Toole deja en una región ambigua si el despido de su padre quizás se debe a esta circunstancia, deja espacio al lector para que termine de unir esos puntos según su juicio, que interprete si efectivamente el fanatismo alcanza hasta esa magnitud o bien es otra piedra en el camino de esta desafortunada familia, que tras el despido del padre no pueden pagar las cuotas de la iglesia, se convierten en marginados y terminan apartados dentro de ese pueblo, exponiéndose a un destino que progresivamente se va oscureciendo.
He leído bastantes novelas firmadas por gente mucho mayor que Toole y que sin embargo no obstante no muestran ni la mitad de madurez que lo que el autor, que la escribió con 15 o 16 años. Me pregunto si el manuscrito final no tuvo algún tipo de arreglo mayor de alguna mano profesional que terminara de pulir o redondear el texto póstumo. Si no es así, me quito el sombrero frente a la brillantez de su autor.
Se ve que John Kennedy Toole escribió 'La Biblia de neón' cuando tenía 16 años y que luego la rechazó porque el estilo le parecía demasiado juvenil. Pero a mí me ha encantado, precisamente por esa mirada infantil e ingenua que tiene. Como todo está narrado precisamente desde el punto de vista de un niño que luego se convertirá en adolescente, que encima siempre ha recibido una educación muy rudimentaria y que siempre ha vivido aislado, el estilo simple, directo, repetitivo y algo limitado funciona perfectamente. De hecho, yo todo el rato que lo he leído me he imaginado que lo había escrito a los 20 años imitando un estilo adolescente. Es un estilo efectivo y fascinante en su simplicidad.
David es un niño que vive en un pueblo de mala muerte en el Sur, durante los años 30-50. Como pasa en todas las novelas sureñas, su familia es más pobre que las ratas. Hay los típicos padres: la madre muy buena e ingenua, y el padre un poco/bastante bruto. Y hay el típico personaje excéntrico de turno: Tía Mae, que había trabajado como cantante/artista, pero que ahora ya se ha hecho demasiado vieja y que todo el pueblo critica, por culpa de sus excentricidades (centradas básicamente en su forma de vestir), y que sin duda es una delicia de personaje. Pero también lo es, por supuesto, el señor Farney, el maestro culto que vive con otro hombre.
La guerra inevitablemente tiene su papel importante y hay el no menos inevitable fracaso amoroso. Y aunque todo parezca típico en teoría, resulta realmente fresco a la práctica. Lo mejor probablemente es la lucidez con la que critica la hipocresía religiosa. Me gusta la idea de que la hipocresía religiosa es tan evidente que incluso un niño no muy avispado puede percibirla. En cambio, los que están metidos en ella no. Me encanta que critique la hipocresía religiosa con una ironía sutil. Aunque no sea hilarante todo el rato, tiene momentos muy divertidos, pero su ironía es muy diferente al sarcasmo de 'La conjura de los necios'. Por esto si me dan a escoger entre mamá y papá, creo que me quedaría con 'La Biblia de neón', porque su ironía sutil me gusta más que el sarcasmo agresivo y grotesco de 'La conjura'.
Me encanta que el protagonista sea tan introvertido, a veces bordeando el autismo, que él se entere más o menos de lo que pasa a su alrededor, pero que casi nunca participe, y cuando participa no acabe de conocer las reglas y la pifie. Me encantan detalles como que sepa que sus compañeros están haciendo bromas sexuales pero que no acabe de saber qué significan. O que la maestra vaya de excursión al Palacio de Justicia y los gamberros se porten fatal y ella, que es medio sorda, no se entere de nada, de tal modo que cuando después reciben una carta del Palacio de Justicia quejándose del mal comportamiento de sus alumnos, ella se enfade y responda con otra carta diciéndoles que se deben haber equivocado de escuela. Y son detalles así que hacen que esta novela sea tan real y me encante tanto.
Sin llegar al nivel de maestría alcanzado en La conjura de los necios, es tremendo que Toole fuese capaz de escribir esta novela con tan solo 16 años, que alguien de esa edad fuese capaz de diseccionar así ese pueblo sureño, a sus habitantes y su grado de fanatismo, con ese nivel de ironía certera. Maravilloso.
John Kennedy Toole was 16 years old when he wrote this novel. It’s one of only two novels he completed in his lifetime, the other being the better known A Confederacy of Dunces.
I remember a young girl in one of the writers groups I belong to, who asked once if we could take a young writer seriously. As I recall most of the people told the girl they would, if the writing was good. This is the novel I think I would recommend to anyone that can’t take a young writers seriously because of their age.
It is written with considerable spark. It’s not flawless, and it’s not a masterpiece. I’d probably have gone with three and a half star if half stars were available here on goodreads, but let’s say four stars. The thing is, it is pretty good first novel. It’s about small towns mentality, and religious hypocrisy. It revolves around a boy who is growing up in a small town. His family lives on the outskirts of the society, (not all the time, but large part of it) so the boy sees the town from a different angle than those more central.
As a novel it is fairly well done, and the story is an interesting one. There is a certain awkwardness in the way it builds up. Some might say this shows the writers age, but to me it has more to do with the fact that it is a first novel. It shows promise. It shows that even though the writer was young when he wrote this, the reader can still take this novel seriously.
And it actually makes me even more interested in reading his other novel, which I have been told many times is a very good one.
La Biblia de neón dista mucho de ser la obra maestra que es La conjura de los necios, pero sí que ofrece pistas del apabullante potencial que tenía John Kennedy Toole como narrador. El escritor norteamericano ofrece en esta novela, la primera que escribió siendo apenas un adolescente, un retrato brutal del fanatismo religioso como elemento de dominación a través de la mirada inocente e ingenua de un niño criado en el seno de una familia humilde y un tanto excéntrica. Sus observaciones y experiencias resultan demoledoras a la par que emotivas, y su apasionante evolución como personaje concluye en una vertiginosa escalada de violencia que te deja sencillamente devastado. Sencilla y cautivadora a partes iguales, La Biblia de neón funciona igual de bien como novela de iniciación que como excepcional radiografía de la Norteamérica profunda, pero es en su disección del personaje principal ante los estragos de la vida cuando más brilla la obra de Toole.
A könyvnek a legérdekesebb része a publikációtörténete, azt hiszem. A szerző nem adta közre első regényét, viszont a második, a Tökfilkók szövetsége olyan sikeres lett, hogy Toole gyorsan, fiatalon meg is halt, ezután pedig szerző édesanyja 1980-valahányban valamilyen megfontolásból mégis közreata ezt a Southern Gothic műfajú korai kéziratot. Nem mondom, én büszke lennék egy ilyen elsőregény-próbálkozásnak, de azért ez nem lett egy túlságosan érdekes könyv: fiatal elbeszélő kissé avatatlanul szemléli kamaszodókorának eseményeit és szereplőit: család, társadalom, miegyéb. Gondolom egy beavatódás-regény, egy coming of age mű lehet, de nem akartam túlfeszíteni a dolgot: 50 oldal után sem kezdett jobban érdekelni David és környezete, úgyhogy inkább meghajlok a szerző bölcs ítélete előtt, és hagytam feledésbe merülni. Pedig a szöveg tisztességes, Pék Zoltán szokás szerint jól fordít. (Gondolom azért tűnhetett jó ötletnek magyarul kiadni, mert készült belőle egy film is? A borító erre enged következtetni.) Na sebaj: az év végére jutott egy ilyen próbálkozás is. A Confederacy of Dunces is ott van az olvasandók-polcomon (ford. Göncz Árpád), majd jól elcsodálkozhatok, mennyivel jobb lett a debütáló mestermű, mint a posztumusz fiókpréda.
At the age of sixteen I was ensconced in my box room writing a surreal comic novella called Shirts Dancing with Nelson Mandela, a farce with talking appliances and a notable lack of dancing shirts. I was imitating my betters at the very beginning of an arduous slog to write what we might call a “passable” literary sentence. Toole was already tooled up and ready to masterpiece, penning a sentimental work of small-town miserabilism that McSweeney’s would have hailed Debut of the Year, had Mr. Eggers been around to bestow that accolade. Observant, melancholy postcards from a very young man, Toole’s talents were better suited to the riotous comedy of his famous one, making this posthumous cash-grab eminently skippable. (And having one of the most hideous book covers ever designed also doesn’t help).
Toole committed suicide at the age of 32, leaving behind two unpublished novels and an impressively determined mother who succeeded – after much badgering – in gaining the novelist Walker Percy’s interest and support in the manuscript of A Confederacy of Dunces. As we know, this was then published to instant and great acclaim and has been continuously in print ever since, and translated into numerous languages.
While The Neon Bible was in fact written before A Confederacy of Dunces, it only came to light during the successful reception of the later novel, and its publication was delayed by some years because of legal wrangling involving Toole’s mother, the publishers and the courts.
Nonetheless, the novel is an astonishing achievement, not least because it was written, it seems, when Toole was barely a teenager. It will arguably become regarded as a classic of contemporary American fiction, and a classic of Bildungsroman literature. It is a haunting and poetic evocation of a boy’s loss of innocence in the rural America of the 1930s and 40s. There are echoes of Mark Twain, John Cheever, J. D. Salinger and S. E. Hinton, to name but a few and, impressively, the ‘voice’ and identity of the central character, the young boy, Dave, are as distinct and compelling as any by those others.
In a series of linking memories we learn about Dave and his painful trials and tribulations growing up. His mother becomes emotionally unstable when her husband returns in a coffin, from fighting in Europe during the second world war; his Aunt Mae, an eccentric, once-travelling singer, and Dave’s only real friend and companion, discards him for the sake of her infatuation with a 70-year-old fiddle-playing boyfriend and the temptations of Nashville; and his local preacher inflicts a destructive hypocrisy upon him (in fact, it is this preacher’s church that displays the tacky, monolithic, ‘neon bible’). As if these weren’t enough, yet more troubles ensue, accumulating to the point that he is compelled to escape to the city, leaving innocence in his wake, and only the memory of bitter experience for reflection.
Juxtaposed, Toole’s two novels differ in style, language and humour – understandably, as he was just 13 or so when he wrote The Neon Bible, whereas he wrote A Confederacy of Dunces as an adult. In the latter novel, we have the fantastic character of Ignatius J. Reilly, a towering, Rabelaisain and Falstaff-like figure, battling against the dim-witted and the short-sighted in his quest for truth, beauty, and a bountiful supply of hot dogs, his favourite food. The language therein is rich and boisterous, the style sweeping in its intensity. In The Neon Bible, Dave is the centre, holding the novel together with his rural speech; his gentle, graceful and easy language complementing the impression we have of him and his world. Even so, their lives and their principles are, arguably, the same: both value Platonic ideals above all else; both are outsiders, most often alone – feeling the loss of their innocence – and reflect a pervading sadness that is at the very heart of their lives. There is no question that the publication of this, his only other fiction, underlines the awful tragedy of Toole’s death.
This was a solid to good coming-of-age story written by John Kennedy Toole at the age of 16. Toole is better known for his Pulitzer Prize winning novel A Confederacy of Dunces, his only other published work. Neon Bible is a piece of juvenilia that only saw the light of day due to the smashing success of Dunces, and was written by a raw and developing talent. There is room for Toole to grow as a writer across the board (plotting, characterization, prose, etc.). That said, this is an extremely impressive accomplishment for a writer of 16. Toole has crafted a solid bildungsroman with some fine literary grace notes. Throughout, Toole's sensitivity, perception, and intelligence are all on display.
I was not a huge fan of Dunces, which didn't tickle my funnybone the way it has for so many other readers. But Toole's talent is undeniable, and this book makes me wonder what kind of novelist he could have become if he hadn't taken his own life at the age of 31. It's a pity we will never know. 3.0 stars.
این کتاب در ۱۶ سالگی نویسنده نوشته شده و با خواندن اون پی می برید که اگه در جوانی خودکشی نمی کرد، همه ما می تونستیم از نوشته های اون لذت بیشتری ببریم داستان در مورد جوانی حدودا ۲۰ ساله است که در داخل قطار به سمت مقصد .نامعلومی حرکت می کند و در طول تقریبا یک روز ، کل دوران زندگی اش را شرح می دهد این کتاب داستان مردمانی سنت گرا و مذهبی است که فقط آنچه را قبول می کنند که مطابق نظرشان باشد ( مثل فردی که میگه بیا با هم منطقی بحث کنیم ولی هر چی که من میگم درسته😊) و هر اقدامی که می کنند برای تاییدش برچسب مذهب می زنند از متن کتاب از آن همه مزخرفاتی که واعظ به اسم مس��حیت به خورد دیگران می داد به تنگ آمده بودم.اگر کتاب هایی که از آن ها خوشش نمی آمد را از کتابخانه می دزدید یا یک نفر را به زور به نوانخانه شهر می فرستاد نام مسیحیت بر رفتارش زده می شد
The first lines of this book were so vivid for be, I could see exactly what the author wrote. I just kept re-reading them. It is such a powerful book, I often recommend highly to others. It was made into a film in the last decade, but got little play and lesser reviews. If you like "Ironweed", this is your cup of joe.
Про то, что это роман 15-летнего вундеркинда, я думаю, и так напишут, если книгу заметят, а я скажу только, что это "роман взросления", замешанный на южной готике. Как, например, и "Верная закалка" Портиса, и "Зимняя кость" Вудрелла - и еще много что; мне на такие везет, да; ну и "Страна приливов" Митча Каллена, конечно - то, что это была южная готика, в свое время, кажется, никто не заметил, а всё это писатели отчетливо южные. Но оставим такие изыскания на долю досужих академиков. А забавного то, что "голос маленького человека" здесь как-то созвучен с голосом Леонида Добычина. Вот над этим еще имеет смысл подумать. Видимо, в обоих этих небольших романах "о детстве" речь скорее идет об уходящем в прошлое, отмирающем могучем сознании: имперском у Добычина, южно-религизном у Тула. Мы понимаем, что уезжая в конце из долины, мальчик отправляется не только в "большой город", но и к той новой жизни, которую опишут уже другие писатели. Например, Керуак. Здесь мы имеем дело с настоящим становлением битника. Герою Добычина же светит только концлагерь.
This was honestly hard for me to read at times. I abandoned it the first time I tried to read it, about 6 years ago. It just oozes sadness and it can get to be a bit unbearable at times, but after I got into the heart of the book this second time I started reading it, I also found it to be really compelling and it really drew me into this world. The young boy telling the story uses perfectly believable language to describe his world in clear detail. I've found that books with a young narrator can prove to distract me when their language seems wrong somehow, but this never happens here. It reads so honestly it's as if O'Toole wrote this as a journal when he was that young. And the story touches on growing up in truthful ways I haven't read elsewhere. Thoroughly engrossing but also sad. The fact that O'Toole wrote this as a teenager is interesting and the fact that his only other work is "A Confederacy of Dunces" is incredible. The stories seem to me to be two very different sides of the same coin.
Toole’s Pulitzer-winning comic opus, A Confederacy of Dunces, is one of my most favorite novels. Sadly, his life ended at age 31. The Neon Bible, published posthumously, was written when he was just 16 for a contest. It’s a teen boy’s stream-of-consciousness #bildungsroman. David’s a bit of a lost soul whose family is going through 1930s tough times. Oddly funny yet profoundly sad. It’s no Dunces, obvs, but it’s a solid read.
Having been surprised (+1) by the amount I liked "A Confederacy of Dunces", I was sad to think that was John Kennedy Toole's only book, having known that his life was a short one. However, I nonetheless googled his name hoping other books would pop up. I figured there were two possible outcomes. The first, was that there would be none. The second, was that there might be several drafts of other books, or collections of writings like poems and short stories. To my surprise (+ 2), a third option presented itself as the truth. Namely, a book he wrote when he was 15 for a novel contest, that had languished for 20 years, was the sole other book of his in existence. I bought it, assuming it would be not great but worth trying. And I have to say, I was really surprised (+3) by how much I liked it. The writing was simple, but powerful, and the plot was very compelling. Highly recommend to any other John Kennedy Toole heads out there. Or to any tools out there. Although on second thought, maybe that's redundant.
La historia me llamó la atención desde la reseña de la parte de atrás y al comenzar a leerlo no me decepcionó. El pueblo que Toole describe se me antojo casi real. Más que el estilo de la prosa (bueno a secas), resalta el tema de la obra y la crítica social que hace al fanatismo religioso dominante en los pequeños pueblos estadounidenses antes y durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Me dejó pasmada el hecho de que fue escrita cuando Toole tenía apenas 16 años. La juventud del escritor y lo corto de la novela me hacen querer leer su otra única novela antes de declararme fan.
Aş fi vrut sã fi scris si eu aşa *când aveam 16 ani. (oricum nu scriu deloc, doar mã gândeam cã John Kennedy Toole a scris "Biblia de neon" înainte de majorat).
I was a late-comer to John Kennedy Toole’s masterful A Confederacy of Dunces but, as they say, better late than never. And so, before I waited too long to finish the job, I decided to pick up his only other known work, which he wrote at around 15 years old, The Neon Bible.
The publishing history of The Neon Bible is a gothic horror of bureaucratic proportions, wherein arcane inheritance laws in Louisiana despoiled Toole’s mother’s ability to determine the novel’s fate. And only upon a series of lawsuits after her death did the book finally see the light of day. A full expression of the awful nature of greed, the publishing industry, and the sad way in which we treat art as a commercial product. But anyway, the novel, for all of its flaws is an impressive effort which shows the glimmers of talent that would later be augmented by fresh, raw comic prowess that adds dimension to Dunces.
In The Neon Bible we meet our young protagonist, David, who is on a train running away from everything he’s ever known. What follows this scene of fleeing is the young man’s life from roughly 5 years old to 19 or 20 when we see him on the train. Each chapter focuses on a specific “moment” of young David’s life through the Great Depression, World War II into the early ‘50s. Like Ignatius in Dunces, David is a tragic figure. In fact, probably more tragic than the former because where Ignatius is often the writer of his own tragedies, David is the victim of a changing world, poverty, and the adults around him who fail him, or even outright harm him.
The novel is impressive in its emotional depth and the way in which each chapter captures David’s experience in a way that reflects his mentality at that age—how David reacts as a young boy in elementary school to a particularly nasty teacher is in line with how a boy that age would think, much like how the 19 year old David expresses himself and thinks about his first love, and the nervous energy he exudes. It’s an impressive range, especially from a writer who was still so young himself.
Perhaps what’s missing so much in this novel compared to Dunces is the wildly hilarious absurdity. The novel suffers maybe only a bit from its unrelenting somber and serious tone—even in Ignatius’s most depressing moments, there was still something to lighten the mood, to give us a break to laugh. But in The Neon Bible there’s just a pervasive sense of dread for David and his family. Perhaps the only moment where we might be tricked into thinking things might go well for him is when he meets Jo Lynne, but, as readers, we know otherwise.
Like other writers cut down too young, the immense talent of Toole is a blessing this world has forever lost. The way we can see how much improved he was between writing this, his first novel, and Dunces only glimpses at how great he could have become had he seen the success he deserved while still on this Earth.