So, thus far in our class we have covered a book by Richard Wright, a book by Ralph Ellison, and most of a book by Zora Neal Hurston. The books are all part of the same curriculum and there are reoccurring themes for sure, but when dealing with a topic as complicated as African American fiction, there are bound to be differing opinions within the body of literature. All the authors wrote during a similar time frame, so I thought I would take a quick look at their relations with one another, and what they thought of each others' work.
Hurston's book wasn't very well received at first by a lot of people. Although several sites claimed Ellison was influenced by her work through the Harlem Renaissance, he actually said Their Eyes Were Watching God had a "blight of calculated burlesque". This is a creative way to phrase a really biting insult. I have a feeling he was criticizing the characters and their apparent simplicity. And if you think about it, in contrast with the narrator in Invisible Man, the characters in Their Eyes Were Watching God aren't very intellectually developed or complex. He gave the impression in his review that he thought Hurston's work (though "lyrical") was behind the times; she was apparently "unaware of the technical experimentation" influenced by Stein, Hemingway, etc. He also mentions that the "casual brutalities" of the South are not a part of the story, so I guess she wasn't political enough for Ellison, which is kind of ironic because he received similar criticism for Invisible Man. Also, he seemed to be all into the purity of art stuff, we know he wasn't aligned with the communists or the black power movement, and the movie didn't mention any active political work aside from his writing. So, I don't really know what Ellison was getting at exactly.
Anyway, moving on (and trying not to pick sides). I don't think Hurston got to be famous enough during her time to have written a lot of reviews herself (I read this thing that said she died broke and unrecognized by the literary community, which is sad), so I don't know what she thought of Ellison. Though I'm sure she was familiar with him because she lived for over ten years after Invisible Man was published. Similarly with Wright; she must have been aware of him, but I'm not sure what she thought of him.
Wright also reviewed Their Eyes Were Watching God, and took similar issue with it to Ellison. He admitted that it's written well, but insisted that she portrays her characters too simply and plays into the "minstrel" tradition forced onto African Americans (think Sambo dolls and coin bank). If you want to read the full article, here's a link: http://people.virginia.edu/~sfr/enam358/wrightrev.html (warning, contains spoilers)
I haven't done any extra research on Wright's relationship with Ellison, but I know that they knew each other and he was kind of Ellison's gateway into the literary community. I wonder if they were still on good terms later in life given Ellison's harsh portrayal of the communist party in his novel. I can't help but see a little of Wright in Jack, given Wright's political views, and the (semi-autobiographical) book seems to depict a sudden, potentially enemy-creating split between the narrator and the communists. Then again, Invisible Man is almost an homage to Native Son, referencing it throughout and building off it's ideas. I don't know how sincere the allusions are, though. For all I know, Ellison could be mocking Native Son in a way. I bet Ellison would critique Bigger's simplicity.
I find it really interesting how much disagreement there was within the progressive, book-writing, African American community, and how, despite this, they are constantly being grouped as if they were all on the same side.
So, who do you agree with?
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Jazz
In the movie in class, it was mentioned that Ellison actually started his career in music, specifically jazz. It's fairly plain that Invisible Man is a little bit autobiographical, and it seemed to me that jazz (and the desire to become a musician) to Ellison was something like writing (and the related aspirations of professional success) to the narrator. They were skills, passion even, that started to show early in life. The narrator's graduation speech is highly praised, and Ellison began playing the cornet at age 9. Both young men received a scholarship for their talent that sent them to (extremely similar) colleges. They perused their talent in college for some time before being side-tracked and leaving for New York.
In their jobs after this they abandoned their skills somewhat. Ellison worked briefly with the communist party, and the narrator's search for a job initially ended at a paint factory, where literary prowess was completely useless.
In the more long term jobs that they find after this their talents come in handy some, but are not primary requirements in the job description. I'm speaking here of the narrator's work in the Brotherhood and Ellison early literary work; short stories for magazines and what not. I do not think that these were exactly parallel times, because Ellison's job would evolve into something much more long term, while the narrator would soon become disillusioned with the Brotherhood, but both times represent old skills showing through in a new context.
Music introduced Ellison to artistic thought. More specifically, an interest in music generally comes along with some amount of lyrical consideration. In this way, Ellison was likely prepared somewhat for poetry. Jazz also influenced the style and themes of some of his writing. Ellison speaks in his introduction to Invisible man of how he drew from his training in Jazz when writing the novel. The way he describes the book coming out of itself is reminiscent of jazz improv, and Louis Armstrong's "Black and Blue" prompts the question that gets the book started.
Similarly, the narrator's oratory skills make him a useful member of the Brotherhood--it's even what gets him the occupation in the first place-- but it's not the primary aspect of the job. As we learn more and more throughout the story, he is a face more than a voice, but he builds his power as a symbol through his speeches.
I think it is important to note that, in the end of the novel, the narrator is pursuing his talent fully; writing a novel, while Ellison sticks with literature. However, the narrator is not using his talent for the job(s) he had originally intended to have. Likewise, while Ellison stuck with literature and did not return to Jazz, his fascination with music continued to influence his work (one example is his short story "Living with Music").
In their jobs after this they abandoned their skills somewhat. Ellison worked briefly with the communist party, and the narrator's search for a job initially ended at a paint factory, where literary prowess was completely useless.
In the more long term jobs that they find after this their talents come in handy some, but are not primary requirements in the job description. I'm speaking here of the narrator's work in the Brotherhood and Ellison early literary work; short stories for magazines and what not. I do not think that these were exactly parallel times, because Ellison's job would evolve into something much more long term, while the narrator would soon become disillusioned with the Brotherhood, but both times represent old skills showing through in a new context.
Music introduced Ellison to artistic thought. More specifically, an interest in music generally comes along with some amount of lyrical consideration. In this way, Ellison was likely prepared somewhat for poetry. Jazz also influenced the style and themes of some of his writing. Ellison speaks in his introduction to Invisible man of how he drew from his training in Jazz when writing the novel. The way he describes the book coming out of itself is reminiscent of jazz improv, and Louis Armstrong's "Black and Blue" prompts the question that gets the book started.
Similarly, the narrator's oratory skills make him a useful member of the Brotherhood--it's even what gets him the occupation in the first place-- but it's not the primary aspect of the job. As we learn more and more throughout the story, he is a face more than a voice, but he builds his power as a symbol through his speeches.
I think it is important to note that, in the end of the novel, the narrator is pursuing his talent fully; writing a novel, while Ellison sticks with literature. However, the narrator is not using his talent for the job(s) he had originally intended to have. Likewise, while Ellison stuck with literature and did not return to Jazz, his fascination with music continued to influence his work (one example is his short story "Living with Music").
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Jack's Eye
So what's up with Jack's eye? And, more importantly--since it is (yet another) instance of the surreal symbolism that defines this book--what's up with all the stuff it represents? (And there's a lot)
After a heated discussion with the narrator, Jack's glass eye pops right out of his head. Knowing Ellison, the meaning of this incident goes a little deeper, but the gravity of what the eye represents for us and for the narrator takes some looking into.
First, it represents the fatal flaw of the Brotherhood. The speech Jack gives that leads his eye to detach from his face tells all. The flaw comes from within; from among the leaders, who, however open minded and rational they pride themselves in being, will argue till their eyes pop out if their authority is challenged. They claim to be "brothers", but, like the narrator points out, act more like fathers, who refuse to acknowledge that they might be wrong, and more importantly, refuse to give the narrator any power of his own. Remind you of any/everyone else?
The speech also shows how they fail to take emotion and individual importance into account in their tactics and internal affairs. Jack makes it clear that when Clifton sold the dolls, he became completely dead to them, and his actual death was of no consequence.
There is a sentence a couple of pages before the eyeball incident in which Jack mentions that the Sambo dolls could "explode" in the "face" of the brotherhood. The narrator assures them that their faces are safe. He's wrong. A couple minutes later, Jack's face literally explodes, but it's not the dolls that are at fault, it's Jack's own inappropriate response to the narrator's speech.
Most importantly, the eye represents blindness. Though the narrator's realization of the blindness of the others around him is gradual, it culminates in the moment he sees Jack with no eye.
Like I said, he works up to it: In his speech about Clifton he tells people not try try to understand Clifton because there's no way they can see him fully. Just before everything comes together in his head, he sees into the dark half of the room for the first time--I don't claim to fully understand this, but something is happening in his mind-- and then, POP! It all comes together, he blabbers for a paragraph and comes out realizing that Jack's lack of sight is not only literal.
The blindness it represents gives us a new look at what Jack likes to think it represents; sacrifice and discipline. Jack lost his eye fighting for a cause, which he sees as a display of his virtue, but it could imply that to completely follow a cause, one must become a little blind. Certainly it could imply that to follow orders thoughtlessly causes and/or indicates blindness. Sure enough, after the narrator has his epiphany--thanks in part to Jack's glass eye--he starts to stop following the Brotherhood's orders.
After a heated discussion with the narrator, Jack's glass eye pops right out of his head. Knowing Ellison, the meaning of this incident goes a little deeper, but the gravity of what the eye represents for us and for the narrator takes some looking into.
First, it represents the fatal flaw of the Brotherhood. The speech Jack gives that leads his eye to detach from his face tells all. The flaw comes from within; from among the leaders, who, however open minded and rational they pride themselves in being, will argue till their eyes pop out if their authority is challenged. They claim to be "brothers", but, like the narrator points out, act more like fathers, who refuse to acknowledge that they might be wrong, and more importantly, refuse to give the narrator any power of his own. Remind you of any/everyone else?
The speech also shows how they fail to take emotion and individual importance into account in their tactics and internal affairs. Jack makes it clear that when Clifton sold the dolls, he became completely dead to them, and his actual death was of no consequence.
There is a sentence a couple of pages before the eyeball incident in which Jack mentions that the Sambo dolls could "explode" in the "face" of the brotherhood. The narrator assures them that their faces are safe. He's wrong. A couple minutes later, Jack's face literally explodes, but it's not the dolls that are at fault, it's Jack's own inappropriate response to the narrator's speech.
Most importantly, the eye represents blindness. Though the narrator's realization of the blindness of the others around him is gradual, it culminates in the moment he sees Jack with no eye.
Like I said, he works up to it: In his speech about Clifton he tells people not try try to understand Clifton because there's no way they can see him fully. Just before everything comes together in his head, he sees into the dark half of the room for the first time--I don't claim to fully understand this, but something is happening in his mind-- and then, POP! It all comes together, he blabbers for a paragraph and comes out realizing that Jack's lack of sight is not only literal.
The blindness it represents gives us a new look at what Jack likes to think it represents; sacrifice and discipline. Jack lost his eye fighting for a cause, which he sees as a display of his virtue, but it could imply that to completely follow a cause, one must become a little blind. Certainly it could imply that to follow orders thoughtlessly causes and/or indicates blindness. Sure enough, after the narrator has his epiphany--thanks in part to Jack's glass eye--he starts to stop following the Brotherhood's orders.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Circus of the City
In addition to being a really interesting in itself, Circus of the City has a lot of themes in common with Invisible Man, so I thought I would try to expand on what we covered in class. Really, I think we just scratched the surface of the relevant stuff going on here. Rather than dissect the poem, I'm gonna try to tie it in with stuff from Invisible Man.
Similarities:
Though there are many similarities, I think that Invisible Man's criticism of society kind of ends at racism, (and its related blindness and lack of opportunity) while Circus of the City's extends to any sort of irrational societal distinction between a right and a wrong. Normalcy and weirdness are not concepts that an enlightened character gives any thought to in this poem. In fact, those who claim to be normal, and seem to be harmless; "businessmen benign" have evil within them; "malignant interest rates". The rejection of normalcy is not quite so present in Invisible Man, I think. It shows up, but Ellison is not explicitly telling us to not worry about fitting in.
Similarities:
- The poem is about hidden, misunderstood enlightenment of a sort; everyone's wrong but a select few who are shunned for their wisdom. One cannot be both wise and successful in society which seems to be the case in Invisible Man as well. In the book it's clear that, if you're black, and choose to be a part of society, you can be both lucky and immoral (Bledsoe), or you can suffer (grandfather, dispossessed people). The poem addresses this too, devoting a paragraph to those who fit in, but at great cost to their integrity (businessmen and indecisive women), and paragraph to those who have been destroyed by the city (the walleyed beggars and birds tie-dyed with soot).
- In the book, those who reach an understanding of what's really going on (older narrator, vet) don't bother acting for others, making them come across as really weird till you listen to what they're actually saying. Like in the novel, the only truly wise character is the local "crazy", Mary. All these people are pushed from society in one way or another. They become invisible in that no one can take them seriously or see how they really think.
- The path the narrator of the poem takes is similar to the path of the narrator of Invisible man. They both start off like most people, looking down on those considered "crazy", and end up admiring them
- Of course I have to mention the dream themes going on. In the poem, "dreaming" represents the (potentially dangerous) oddities of human nature and our blindness to them when we all do them the same. Everyone is dreaming because we all do irrational things, but Mary dreams openly, while the city is said to "dream itself awake." In Invisible Man, the narrator's early life comes across much like a dream because of how he's pushed around with little control or awareness of the strangeness around him. He believes, of course, at this point, that he is completely awake. Recently in our reading, in the midst of a very dynamic stage for the character, he mentions he is half asleep and half awake. He was directly referring to his state upon waking in the morning, but Ellison hides stuff like this all the time and I think there's a deeper meaning. As the narrator becomes aware of his surroundings he seems to be dreaming less and less- in some ways. He's more lucid and seems to be making more decisions, but his life remains super surreal. I imagine this is something like what Mary (in the poem) experiences.
- Mary's unique point of view allows her a lot of freedom, and even some power. She is able do what she wants, when she wants, without shame. She is also immune to the "deep voiced commands to go away". She can "beat the air into obedience" and always make her words "come out right". The vet and the older narrator seem similarly free.
- Both have "white is right" themes. The poem seems to portray people's rejection of Mary as similar to their rejection of black people/culture. The narrator mentions how her family (like Mary) was less concerned about fitting in than most people in her city.
- A character named Mary. Native Son too.
Though there are many similarities, I think that Invisible Man's criticism of society kind of ends at racism, (and its related blindness and lack of opportunity) while Circus of the City's extends to any sort of irrational societal distinction between a right and a wrong. Normalcy and weirdness are not concepts that an enlightened character gives any thought to in this poem. In fact, those who claim to be normal, and seem to be harmless; "businessmen benign" have evil within them; "malignant interest rates". The rejection of normalcy is not quite so present in Invisible Man, I think. It shows up, but Ellison is not explicitly telling us to not worry about fitting in.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
The Game
In class we keep talking about this "game" that the characters are playing, so I've been thinking about the story in these terms. "The game" is more than just the obvious game of life that everyone has to play, it's sort of the journey through society that the characters have to take. Society (and therefore the white men that dominate it) makes the rules, and all the different characters react to these rules in different ways. So far I think we've covered the basic possible points of view for a black person to have towards "the game".
First we have the narrator in the early chapters. He's completely oblivious to the game, even though people remind him over and over of it's existence. He knows the rules but does not think about them explicitly (as is probably true for most people of their society's encouraged behavior). He just follows the rules obediently, taking the strangely unlucky hand he's been dealt honestly and without question.
The narrator's grandfather has done one step better. He's aware that the rules are unfair, but he plays the game honestly nonetheless (although he's quite good at bluffing, but I suppose that's allowed).
Bledsoe has moved beyond this even. He is extremely aware of the rules and using this, bends them (and almost undoubtedly breaks them occasionally) with ease. He's cheated to get to a place he's really not supposed to be, and lied to disguise the fact that he's there. He would never admit to the white people that he has control over them because that would earn him a considerable point deduction, but he's aware himself. He even tells this to the narrator who, through an amazing feat of denial and blinding optimism, manages to remain completely in the dark about the whole thing.
And on the far end of things we have the vet and future narrator who have dropped out of the game entirely. Upon realizing the corruption in the rule book (instead of cheating their way into a fair game or sucking it up and pushing forward) they just quit. Which, honestly seems fair enough when you've been dealt such a terrible hand. They have distanced themselves from their society and its confining, twisted rules, and come out with an (admittedly strange) sense of freedom and happiness.
I'm not sure that the last option is exactly what Ellison is recommending to his readers, but he does seem to convey his thoughts on the matter largely through the vet, and portray these characters as the happiest and most enlightened. In Native Son the "game" was just a maze- one way in, one way out- but in Invisible Man it's made a little more complex. Though none of them are really ideal, there are more options. The game-and by extension, in my opinion, the book-becomes a little more interesting.
First we have the narrator in the early chapters. He's completely oblivious to the game, even though people remind him over and over of it's existence. He knows the rules but does not think about them explicitly (as is probably true for most people of their society's encouraged behavior). He just follows the rules obediently, taking the strangely unlucky hand he's been dealt honestly and without question.
The narrator's grandfather has done one step better. He's aware that the rules are unfair, but he plays the game honestly nonetheless (although he's quite good at bluffing, but I suppose that's allowed).
Bledsoe has moved beyond this even. He is extremely aware of the rules and using this, bends them (and almost undoubtedly breaks them occasionally) with ease. He's cheated to get to a place he's really not supposed to be, and lied to disguise the fact that he's there. He would never admit to the white people that he has control over them because that would earn him a considerable point deduction, but he's aware himself. He even tells this to the narrator who, through an amazing feat of denial and blinding optimism, manages to remain completely in the dark about the whole thing.
And on the far end of things we have the vet and future narrator who have dropped out of the game entirely. Upon realizing the corruption in the rule book (instead of cheating their way into a fair game or sucking it up and pushing forward) they just quit. Which, honestly seems fair enough when you've been dealt such a terrible hand. They have distanced themselves from their society and its confining, twisted rules, and come out with an (admittedly strange) sense of freedom and happiness.
I'm not sure that the last option is exactly what Ellison is recommending to his readers, but he does seem to convey his thoughts on the matter largely through the vet, and portray these characters as the happiest and most enlightened. In Native Son the "game" was just a maze- one way in, one way out- but in Invisible Man it's made a little more complex. Though none of them are really ideal, there are more options. The game-and by extension, in my opinion, the book-becomes a little more interesting.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Blindness
This post is more of a question than anything else. I just wanted to get it out there before everyone started to push Native Son out of their heads to make room for Invisible Man. After Bigger kills Mary he starts talking about how everyone seems blind. I never really got exactly what he was saying. Blind to what? To him? To their oppression? Although, Mrs. Dalton seems to be the ultimate symbol of this blindness so it couldn't be their oppression. Perhaps it's just general ignorance or lack of insight.
Anyway, we never really went into depth about this in class, so if anyone has any thoughts on the matter, I would be happy to hear them.
Anyway, we never really went into depth about this in class, so if anyone has any thoughts on the matter, I would be happy to hear them.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
The Third Perspective
There are three primary perspectives presented to us in Native Son. Bigger shows us the first hand experience, and emotional reactions of (some of) the oppressed to their dismal environments. A more reasoned, third party perspective, Wright's own well thought out opinion on the matter, is told through Max. And the media, the protesters, and Buckley present us with the other immediately emotionally involved side; the oppressors. Though I agree the most with Max's perspective, recently I've been thinking more about the media's perspective, because it seems to be what we are the closest to and farthest from in our everyday lives.
On the one hand, you rarely see novels about racism written from the point of view of a racist. Wright had a hard enough time defending Bigger's morality to his readers, it would be extremely difficult to create a sympathetic (white) racist character. These people are demonized almost as much and as thoughtlessly as they demonized black people. One could argue that they are hated for better reason, but they are still almost always portrayed nowadays as evil and one dimensional. We do not question why their minds work in this way, to us they're just bad people.
However, as much as we distance ourselves from these people and our media from their racist newspaper headlines, they are in some ways (of the three groups) the most similar to us. We are not the oppressed like Bigger, and very few are as objective as Max. We are a relatively privileged group with an even faster paced, and similarly opinionated stream of media. It struck me while I was reading how similar their media seemed to our own in terms of pace. The whole social media thing is supposed to be feeding us information more immediately than ever, but the news papers in Native Son seemed to be doing almost as good of a job. It only takes a couple of hours for a story to come out and Bigger can follow the knowledge of the authorities almost in real time. In the book and today, this immediacy and freshness of the information we receive inspires a very personal reaction. It also forces the media to make assumptions. The result being that we all jump to conclusions and forget to think things through sometimes.
On top of this, though our media may not be so blatant as to blame the "tragedy of communist and racial mixture", everything we hear assumes an undoubtedly flawed set of morals. We all hate some group of people- for example, racists. Not that I am necessarily equating racism with hating racists- but the hate is similarly instinctive, and both foster a very one dimensional view of the other party.
We also still have mobs storming court rooms before a verdict is even reached- though most recently, ironically, the people are protesting a white cop for unjustly shooting a black kid. (He's probably guilty, but the similarities are interesting. And I think it's good that the case is getting attention, but people should be careful not to decide on a verdict before all the evidence has been presented.)
While Native Son does a wonderful job of defending Bigger's acts (which without context would be utterly unthinkable) even Wright fails to portray Bigger's enemies as anything other than an unfortunate combination of ignorance, manipulation, and hatred. The one redemption the book offers them is that they may have fallen prey to their own sub-optimal environments, just as Bigger has fallen prey to the one they created for him. I personally like this way of looking at it. And, despite the burning desire I have to punch Buckley in the face every time he opens his stupid mouth, it's important to consider why he and those like him believe what they do, and keep in mind that they are people too.
On the one hand, you rarely see novels about racism written from the point of view of a racist. Wright had a hard enough time defending Bigger's morality to his readers, it would be extremely difficult to create a sympathetic (white) racist character. These people are demonized almost as much and as thoughtlessly as they demonized black people. One could argue that they are hated for better reason, but they are still almost always portrayed nowadays as evil and one dimensional. We do not question why their minds work in this way, to us they're just bad people.
However, as much as we distance ourselves from these people and our media from their racist newspaper headlines, they are in some ways (of the three groups) the most similar to us. We are not the oppressed like Bigger, and very few are as objective as Max. We are a relatively privileged group with an even faster paced, and similarly opinionated stream of media. It struck me while I was reading how similar their media seemed to our own in terms of pace. The whole social media thing is supposed to be feeding us information more immediately than ever, but the news papers in Native Son seemed to be doing almost as good of a job. It only takes a couple of hours for a story to come out and Bigger can follow the knowledge of the authorities almost in real time. In the book and today, this immediacy and freshness of the information we receive inspires a very personal reaction. It also forces the media to make assumptions. The result being that we all jump to conclusions and forget to think things through sometimes.
On top of this, though our media may not be so blatant as to blame the "tragedy of communist and racial mixture", everything we hear assumes an undoubtedly flawed set of morals. We all hate some group of people- for example, racists. Not that I am necessarily equating racism with hating racists- but the hate is similarly instinctive, and both foster a very one dimensional view of the other party.
We also still have mobs storming court rooms before a verdict is even reached- though most recently, ironically, the people are protesting a white cop for unjustly shooting a black kid. (He's probably guilty, but the similarities are interesting. And I think it's good that the case is getting attention, but people should be careful not to decide on a verdict before all the evidence has been presented.)
While Native Son does a wonderful job of defending Bigger's acts (which without context would be utterly unthinkable) even Wright fails to portray Bigger's enemies as anything other than an unfortunate combination of ignorance, manipulation, and hatred. The one redemption the book offers them is that they may have fallen prey to their own sub-optimal environments, just as Bigger has fallen prey to the one they created for him. I personally like this way of looking at it. And, despite the burning desire I have to punch Buckley in the face every time he opens his stupid mouth, it's important to consider why he and those like him believe what they do, and keep in mind that they are people too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)