The Third Policeman

I finished the book a few weeks ago, actually, and it's taken me a while to figure out what to make of it. And, in fact, I still don't have anything too intelligent to say about it, so here's some conversation starter questions I came up with, along with my thoughts.

First, what'd you think of the humor?
It wasn't as humorous as I thought it would be (perhaps because some of it got old after a while). Still, there were a lot of moments that reminded me of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy or Monty Python. Is anybody out there knowledgeable enough about British humor to be able to place "The Third Policeman" on some sort of comedic-influence genealogical tree?

If you had to say, succinctly, the moral of the story, what would it be?
I think I'd go for "moderation in all things."

Okay. Elaborate.
Everybody in the story appeared to have an unhealthy obsession with something. So much so that they're unable to see the big picture of what's going on. The boxes within boxes, the endless measurements, the pursuit of what's in the box, the DeShelby fetish, and so on. I especially like the boxes within the boxes--it's an unquenchable pursuit that will never end.

It is the pro(an)tognist's unhealthy obsession with DeShelby that leads him to basically hand his estate over to another man, justify murder and theft, walk blindly into an obvious trap, and even forget his own name. This obsession is easily transferable to the box, which at first is simply a means of preserving himself against the downfall of his estate, but soon becomes his sole reason for living--so that night and day he obsesses about it. The substance of the box, once simply assumed to be gold, in his imagination turns into absolute power to do anything and get anything he wants.

These obsessions turn into his hell. In other words, his hell is to be in constant pursuit of what he can never have. I think it's interesting that his hell is not the knowledge that he can never have what he wants, but that he must pursue it endlessly without knowing he can never have it.

(Note that the third policeman has much more mundane and practical designs for the substance of the box. Not quite sure what to make of that).

What was your favorite crackpot theory of the book?

I think DeShelby's theory that you could see the beginning of time via two mirrors facing each other was my favorite. Mostly because it took me a while to articulate to myself why the theory was wrong.

Lastly, what was your favorite "image" of the book?

I would have to go with the army of one-legged men with their wooden legs tied to each other's good leg.