This book truly had "deep thoughts" that left me rather perplexed as I didn't understand a great deal of it.

I did, however, appreciate the description of New Orleans and the fact that it was concise. So, I'll copy another review to help me remember something about it.

KIRKUS REVIEW

An existentialist novel kicks off with a few lines from Kierkegaard, such as "..the specific character of despair is precisely this; it is unaware of being despair".

If it commences at the same point as Kierkegaard's aesthetic mystique, which is man's pursuit of pleasure, it concludes without arriving at any definite revelation.

Jack "Binx" Boiling resides in New Orleans, and his attempt to break free from a world where "everydayness is the enemy" is accomplished through movies or a casual fling with his successive secretaries.

Certainly, he isn't desperate, but he is highly conscious of his malaise - the danger of "becoming no one nowhere" and the emptiness of the life he leads.

This he shares only with his cousin Kate, who is ill (and has been suicidal).

In intermittent scenes - from the settled middle-class solidity of his aunt's home, to the beach, to the bayou, the back country, and the rundown house where his mother is casually raising a brood with a second husband - we follow Binx on his "search" which ultimately leads him to a certain point of resolution - caring for Kate.

It is an unaccented yet tantalizing projection of the suspension of self in a limbo without responsibility - without reality, and there will be those who will find that this kind of "dark pilgrimage", the indifferent prowling, frittering, and shadow walking - "like Banquo's ghost" - is curiously fascinating yet elusive.

I truly have a profound enjoyment for books that allocate an excessive amount of time delving into the minds of the characters. And The Moviegoer essentially defines its characters from the inside out.

The mind of the main character, Binx Bolling, is given a comprehensive exploration, with all of his elaborate eccentricities that he has self-developed to shield himself from the surrounding realities that both threaten and comfort him.

Other characters who interact with Binx are also mentally analyzed to such an extent that the realities of the story diverge from the realities of everyday life.

It is within the context of the story's reality that I found it arduous to distinguish the line between the eccentricities of the characters and those of southern culture. I am certain that this line is not deeply concealed. After all, the South is populated with astonishing individuals.

However, there is a subtle difference. A nuance exists in the way someone from the South (or from South Africa, Europe, the West, or any other place) perceives everyday life, and I could sense that Percy is such an outstanding writer of the mind that this southern nuance was inevitably (remarkably, expertly) interwoven into his characters.

In the end, as someone who is not from the South, I am aware that I overlooked something beautiful within these pages, even though I may never be cognizant of what it is that I missed.

We closely follow the life of John Bickerson Bolling, affectionately known as Binx, a New Orleans stockbroker. He celebrates his thirtieth birthday within the pages of this story. Binx is from Feliciana Parish and he feels adrift in life. He believes that money is the only thing that matters. He spends his days exploring various movies, poring over his copy of Arabia Deserta, and pursuing women, sometimes even those who work as his assistants. However, Binx ultimately discovers meaning in life through relationships. At some level of our consciousness, I think we all know this to be true. The excessive attention given to the ultra-wealthy might lead us to believe that money is the ultimate goal. For example, consider the public's reaction to the words of a plutocrat compared to yours.

Beyond the topic of money, Mr. Percy has a lot to say about modern culture. Aunt Emily's rant on class provides an engaging summary of the sincerity that pervades our national ideal of mediocrity. She exclaims, "We are the most sincere Laodiceans who ever got flushed down the sinkhole of history."

I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Percy's prose held a clue to successful writing. He frequently references both notable literature and, as the title suggests, film. Does this approach attract professional reviewers or publishers, increasing the likelihood of favorable treatment? When he mentions Winterreise, my album of Schubert lieder featuring Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau immediately comes to mind. With his reference to Rudolfo, I can hear the words, "Mimì!...Mimì!...Mimì!..." and then the orchestral finale. Perhaps the ability to repeatedly evoke such a wide range of thoughts is what distinguishes the ordinary from the great.