Full disclosure: I dedicated my master's thesis to Ellison's novel. The very first time I read it, I was convinced it was one of the most significant literary works of the 20th century. Now, as I teach it in my AP English class, I have reread it numerous times.

And I am more firmly convinced than ever that if you could only read one book in your entire life, this should be the one. The unnamed protagonist vividly re-enacts the diaspora of African-Americans from the South to the North.

It showcases the surreal experience of racism, rage, and manipulation, expressed with an almost unparalleled force and eloquence. Ellison adheres to tried and true patterns, from dramatic ritual, to delineate his invisible man's journey.

It takes the reader from a cocksure teenager to a furious refugee hiding out in a basement in Harlem. The last lines of the book are haunting, yet there is an almost glimmer of hope shining through the despair.

It truly is a masterpiece that demands to be read and studied.

An American classic,

not just a great African-American novel but a truly remarkable American novel that stands on the same level as Moby-Dick or, The Whale, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and The Catcher in the Rye.

Written in the early 1950s, with a narrative power comparable to that of our finest writers, Ralph Ellison proclaims himself as one of the best. Skillfully crafting metaphor, simile, stream of consciousness, poetry, surrealism, absurdism, and a diverse range of narrative devices, Ellison's masterwork demands to be read.

The story is told from the perspective of a narrator who remains unnamed, through whose eyes Ellison explores profound themes such as nationalism, race, identity, gender, equality, political reform, and the rule of law. The style may remind some of Dostoyevsky's Notes from Underground, while the political and social commentary is reminiscent of Steinbeck and early Jack London.

We follow the narrator's journey from a rural Southern origin, through an unsuccessful term in college, to the multi-cultural and politically active streets of Harlem. There, this natural leader and orator discovers that he is, nevertheless, "invisible": minimized and marginalized in the outer world, despite being effective within "The Brotherhood", Ellison's amalgamation of socialist / communist / progressive street-wise organizations.

As smooth, original, and innovative as jazz, Ellison's great contribution to twentieth-century literature should rightfully be on a list of books that every person should read at least once in a lifetime.

The "invisible man" who narrates this classic American novel is not physically invisible but socially. This has nothing to do with science fiction or H.G. Wells. Ralph Ellison begins "Invisible Man" (1953) with the narrator stating, "I am an invisible man." But he quickly clarifies that he is not a spook or an ectoplasm. He is a real man with substance.

The narrator, an African American, explains that he is invisible because people refuse to see him. They only see his skin tone and the negative stereotypes associated with it. They don't see the real him.

He lives underground in a whites-only building and steals light from a power company. The book mostly takes the form of a flashback, with the narrator recalling his life growing up in a small Southern town, his time at college, and his experiences in Harlem.

At college, he hopes to become a leader like Dr. Bledsoe but is expelled after taking a white trustee to the wrong side of town. In Harlem, he works at a paint factory but has a disastrous accident. He then gives an impromptu speech that gains him the attention of the Brotherhood, but he soon realizes that they have their own problems and limitations.

The novel is a powerful exploration of race, identity, and social injustice. It shows how the narrator is constantly overlooked and marginalized by society, and how he struggles to find his place in the world. It is a must-read for anyone interested in American literature and history.

This book was truly brilliant.

I'm almost tempted to stop right there, as what else could possibly be said?

If I hadn't known that the novel was published in 1952, I would have firmly believed it to be a contemporary tale.

Does this imply that Ralph Ellison was far ahead of his time, or perhaps that time has seemingly stood still and nothing has significantly changed in the past 64 years?

So many of the quotes and positions of The Brotherhood could be directly taken from the mouths of our current batch of politicians on both sides of the U.S. presidential race today, and it sent shivers down my spine.

Some of my favorite quotes from the book include:

"My God, boy! You're black and living in the South - did you forget how to lie?"

"Play the game, but don't believe in it...that much you owe yourself. Even if it lands you in a straitjacket or padded cell. Play the game, but play it your own way."

"Be your own father, young man. And remember, the world is possibility if only you'll discover it."

"They got all this machinery, but that ain't everything; we are the machines inside the machine."

"What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do? What a waste, what a senseless waste!"

"For the first time, lying there in the dark, I could glimpse the possibility of being more than a member of a race."

"And I knew it was better to live out one's own absurdity than to die for that of others"

"Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in the face of certain defeat. Our fate is to become one, and yet many....."

I have chosen to use Mr. Ellison's words instead of my own, but I will repeat my initial statement: This book is brilliant.

The 30th book of 2024 has been quite an experience.

If one were to split every novel in my bedroom into thirds, it can be almost certainly said, and with a significant margin, that the middle third is uniformly the weakest.

This might be because so much emphasis is placed on having a great opening to attract a reader and a satisfying ending to reward the loyal one.

Ellison's work started with a truly fantastic opening and the first one or two hundred pages were simply devoured by me.

I didn't have the same level of enthusiasm for the middle part, but this wasn't a surprise.

However, what did astonish me was that for once, I found the last third to be the weakest.

I could anticipate where the story was headed, and some of the initial tension and addictiveness of the book had dissipated.

The narrator's time in the Brotherhood became a bit too preachy for my taste.

Although the Harlem riots at the end are filled with action, I found myself longing for that early scene where the narrator is driving one of the white founders of the college in his car and what transpires immediately after when everything goes awry.

That was truly incredible, but unfortunately, the rest of the novel couldn't quite measure up to it.

2 stars
I read this in high school and it is time for a reread.

****************************

Unfortunately, my appreciation for this book has diminished since the first read. When it was published in 1952, the revelations about racial bigotry were revolutionary. However, today it seems just like one of the many books that focus on the racial divide. A secondary theme is identity, exploring how we perceive ourselves and how others view us, which is symbolized by the main protagonist's invisibility. He is effectively nonexistent to those around him, hence his invisibility.

The events in the novel now feel outdated. There are revival meetings, seduction by white women, and riots that spiral out of control, with Blacks burning their own housing. While these were novel when the book was written, they have become all too familiar in the years since. In fact, these events have repeated themselves countless times.

I found the main protagonist to be overly naive at the start. But when he is accepted into the brotherhood, a group purportedly working towards the liberation of Blacks, he suddenly gains a great deal of understanding and wisdom. First, he sounds like an 18-year-old, and then too quickly his speeches reflect the thoughts of a middle-aged person. Later, he descends into near insanity when he realizes he has been duped. The character portrayal, both of the central protagonist and others, is simply not convincing.

There are elements in the story that seem exaggerated, such as individuals with glass eyes that fall out. I repeatedly wondered why the author included this. Similarly, the seduction by the white woman seems out of place. In each instance, the author is trying to make a statement, but the events are not well integrated into the story. They are there merely to convey the author's "message": Whites are only using the Blacks for their own purposes….and Blacks are tricked into destroying themselves!

The claim that the book is concerned with Marxism is also an exaggeration.

The narrator, Joe Morton, used too many "bells and whistles" for my liking. During violent or exciting sections, the tempo and volume build to a crescendo and then crash. While the African sound for the Ethiopian character was well done, overall I wanted less melodrama in the narration. Morton's masculine laugh was irritating, and the fact that different males had the same laughter was a drawback.

This work is dated and has little new to offer. Since its initial publication, other authors have more effectively expressed themselves on the same topics.

Video-review: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjnQU...

Invisible Man is an extraordinary piece of work. It is both uncanny and illuminating, taking the reader on a wild ride through the complex and often perilous landscape of the American dream. It also delves deep into the mind of a character who can be seen as literature's biggest hopeless fool since Scott's Waverley. The novel is dense and slow-paced at times, but this only adds to its allure. It requires the reader to pay close attention and engage with the text on a deep level. However, the rewards are immense. The story is filled with powerful themes and ideas that will stay with the reader long after they have finished the book. Overall, Invisible Man is a must-read for anyone interested in American literature or the human condition.

\\n  

I am an invisible man. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids – and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.

\\n

Wow. This is truly one of those classic books that, upon finishing, makes you wonder, "How could I have not read this before?" It's the kind of book that forces you to contemplate in horror the hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of reading hours you've wasted on every blandly amusing three-star novel sitting on your bookshelf. Released in 1952, Invisible Man was both celebrated and derided. Officially recognized with a National Book Award, it is anything but bland. Whether one believes that first-time novelist Ralph Ellison helped or hindered the nascent Civil Rights Movement with this bildungsroman of a Southern black man seeking his place in Jim Crow America, this book and its author simply refuse to be forgotten. I give it all the stars.


I had previously read about the unnamed protagonist of the prologue – hiding in his warm basement with 1369 light bulbs and Louis Armstrong records. In my previous ignorance, I had assumed he suffered from some sort of mental illness. However, we quickly learn that he is merely hibernating and, as the saying goes, "A hibernation is a covert preparation for more overt action." The essence of Invisible Man is this protagonist's story; what led him to that hole and his slow recognition of his own invisibility.


This isn't the kind of book I could breeze through. After the first chapter – with its sickening battle royal and a young Southern black man trying to maintain his dignity while in servility, giving a speech (with swollen eyes and a mouthful of blood) on "Negro humility" to a group of piggish white men – I had to put the book down and take a deep breath. The scene was so vivid and upsetting that it needed to be absorbed and put into context before I could continue. Could this have really happened? Could I bear to witness more? The protagonist's college days – and Jim Trueblood's disturbing story, the shell-shocked veterans at the Golden Day, and Dr. Bledsoe's interpretation of Black Power – every tragic detail felt like a recording of history. If this story isn't technically true, it's certainly truthful. I constantly found myself needing to stop and catch my breath.


When the narrator moves to Harlem and his prospects seem to improve (if one ignores the betrayal of the letters of introduction and the worst first day on the job ever at Liberty Paints), finding a way to be a "credit to his race" and a "leader of the people" within the Brotherhood (if only he were blacker...), I was lulled into the protagonist's own complacency – making the climax nearly as surreal and upsetting for me as it was for him. Where was there any space to breathe? We find it in the hidey-hole with 1369 lightbulbs and some Louis Armstrong records, and the ending is the beginning is the end. But that's just the plot.


Ralph Ellison has stated that if he wasn't a writer, he would have been a jazz musician, and he acknowledged that Invisible Man was partly an experiment in writing in a jazz style. While it isn't as "experimental" as it might sound (this is much more reader-friendly than Faulkner or Joyce), the prose often takes unexpected turns. Ellison also has a sharp ear for dialect, which he skillfully presents on the page: from Southern mammies to Harlem zoot-suiters to a displaced African, he recognizes that "black" does not mean one homogeneous thing, and distinct voices go a long way in establishing character. He also allows that "white" America is not homogeneous either – and while many of the worst things that happen to the protagonist are at the hands of white people, he knows that they're generally not evil, just misguided or self-absorbed or blinded by their own ideologies. In a scene that resonates with our own times, a young and unarmed black man is shot and killed in a confrontation with a police officer. The funeral scene for young Clifton – in which the protagonist gives a powerful speech on race relations – has unfortunately been repeated far too many times in recent history. Sixty-plus years later, Invisible Man still has the power to provoke and unsettle. I loved the concept and its execution; the big picture and the small details; the snapshot it provides of its own time and the context it gives for our own. This is a must read book; leave the bland books untouched.

I began reading this book in December last year. However, I soon found it overly cumbersome and hefty to fully absorb. At that time, my mind was still preoccupied with personal concerns, so the book ended up unfinished on my study table, gathering dust and waiting for the right moment to be read.

Then, I realized that it was high time I cleared my currently-reading shelf to make room for other to-read books. Leaving a pile of unfinished books aside felt like a burden, or it seemed as if I had an endless list of currently-reading books.

History has shown that living in a repressive nation where there is no absolute freedom, where the atmosphere suppresses one's desires to express thoughts and feelings, where one is not valued, and where one is degraded and debased like the "invisible" dregs of humanity, inevitably leads to revolution in some form. Some well-known leaders have risen up using principles such as Mahatma Gandhi's civil disobedience or Malcolm X's "by any necessary means." In a more subliminal or passive way, some have channeled their pent-up grievances through writing books, like novels that can effectively change a particular cause, which is perhaps what Ralph Ellison aimed for.

Ralph Ellison is not so different from Richard Wright, the author of Native Son that deeply震撼ed me. Both had an ulterior motive for writing about African life: to revolt. The only significant difference between them was the style they used to convey their suppressed feelings in a novel. Richard Wright wrote a suspenseful novel that allowed readers to feel the psychology of racism, resulting in a heart-breaking, appalling, and sympathetic work. One could sense the psychologically adverse effects of slavery, discrimination, prejudice, and bigotry. On the other hand, although Ralph Ellison used a similar style to R. Wright, he placed more emphasis on allegories and literary devices. He used various situations and materials to elaborate on his suppressed grievances, appealing to reason, emotion, and authority. Thus, reading his book was like entering two dimensions of semantics, and yet one could reach the real climax of the story. You read the literal passages while also understanding their figurative meanings. That is why I was so impressed by this book - it is filled with awakening passages, and every page is truly worth reading.

Since R. Ellison emerged from a culture of bigotry and utilized his writing talent to create this work, which he believed could change the unchangeable stereotypes of white Americans about blacks and also awaken his fellow blacks to the reality of the divisive dilemma among them. In this book, he simply attached the "real" problems he insisted on to very simple dialogues and passages, which he believed were crucial to achieving the desired equality. Ellison wanted to figuratively imply that there are two groups of blacks that prevail: one that believes in the principle of practicality and a gentle, gradual process of raising awareness, and the second that consists of people who believe in urgent revolution through public demonstration.

While reading, the character Brother Jack reminded me of Martin Luther King Jr., while the main protagonist and Ras the Exhorter reminded me of Malcolm X. As far as I remember from THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MALCOLM X, King and Malcolm had an unresolved misunderstanding at that time because they had different opinions on the means of revolution against racism. For King, he could eliminate the ulcer of society through religion using his famous slogan "I HAVE A DREAM," while Malcolm X advocated "BY NECESSARY MEANS." In another case, I could interpret that the main protagonist could be the persona of Richard Wright. Why not? Ralph Ellison was close to him at that time. Besides, I learned that Richard Wright once became a spokesperson for the Communist Party based on his autobiographical novel BLACK (5 stars). Gee, having read so many books about blacks is now causing my mind to bubble with analyses.

It is understood that this book was written as a revolutionary work for freedom and equality, similar to what I have read in UNCLE TOM’S CABIN by Harriet Beecher (5 stars), A PASSAGE TO INDIA by E. L. Forrester (5 stars), THE FIXER by Bernard Malamud, A NATIVE SON by Richard Wright, and our very own NOLI ME TANGERE (TOUCH ME NOT) by Jose Rizal. (I hope you give it a try.)

This book is included on the list of The Guardian's 1001 Best Novels of All Time as well as on TIME’s BEST NOVELS OF ALL TIME from 1923 to 2005. I should have no doubts about it because it is absolutely deserving - deserving of any special literary awards, of your time to read it, of being part of American studies, and of your 5 stars. ^^

This is an extremely fascinating book by all possible standards.

It is, in fact, a glorious celebration of literary genius.

Ralph Ellison has masterfully created a truly compelling character, one with whom we can all deeply identify.

This is not merely the story of the black struggle; rather, it is the profound story of the universal human struggle.

Please take the time to read this book slowly and deliberately, and you will discover that there are pieces of yourself scattered throughout its pages.

There is no doubt whatsoever that this is one of the very greatest books of the 20th century.

It has the power to touch our hearts, expand our minds, and make us reflect on the human condition in ways that few other books can.

It is a literary masterpiece that will continue to be cherished and studied for generations to come.

So why do I engage in writing, subjecting myself to the torture of putting pen to paper?

It is because, despite my initial reluctance, I have come to learn certain things.

Without the possibility of taking action, all the knowledge that comes my way is simply labeled as "file and forget."

However, I find myself unable to file it away or forget it.

Certain ideas refuse to leave me alone; they continuously chip away at my lethargy and complacency.

Why should I be the one to experience this nightmare?

Why should I be dedicated and set aside, if not to at least share it with a few people?

There seems to be no escape from this compulsion.

Here I have embarked on this journey with the intention of throwing my anger into the world's face.

But now, as I attempt to put it all down, the old fascination with playing a role resurfaces, and I am once again drawn upward.

So much so that even before I finish, I feel I have failed.

Maybe my anger is too overwhelming; perhaps, being a talker, I have used an excessive number of words.

Nevertheless, I have failed.

The very act of trying to document it all has confused me and diminished some of my anger and bitterness.

And so it is that now I find myself both denouncing and defending, or at least feeling prepared to defend.

I condemn and affirm, say no and say yes, say yes and say no.

I denounce because, although implicated and partially responsible, I have been hurt to the point of abysmal pain, hurt to the point of invisibility.

And I defend because, in spite of everything, I discover that I still love.

In order to convey some of it, I have to love.

I do not offer you false forgiveness; I am a desperate man.

But too much of your life will be lost, its meaning dissipated, unless you approach it with an equal measure of love and hate.

So I approach it through division.

So I denounce and I defend, I hate and I love.

The text begins by questioning the passion for uniformity, stating that diversity would be the right word. It describes a roman-billboard/proclamation/banner/megaphone as an attack on the reader with the sandstorm of socialism, using the slogan of thriller trivialities. The protagonist in the Ich-form is a writing pioneer, invisible like a portrait in the shadows. It also mentions that (buzz)words like "otherness/alterity, third space, bios, double consciousness, becoming-animal" can be attached to the text, which essentially cover what can be seen from the plane: stereotypes, discrimination, ostracism, stigmatization, fetish-phobia/domino-sub/exotica-eroticism dynamics of collisions, confrontations, accommodations, and relocations of colors under the chisel of a key. The personal identity is constituted in relation to others, and this is the triad of mirroring: how I see myself, how others see me, and how I think others see me.

Society is both individual and collective, with the Brotherhood of self-proclaimed scientists and the mass as the object of their mirroring. They indoctrinate and direct, transforming the crowd into the public until this reification explodes in their faces. Today, we know that human races do not exist because the within-group differences are greater than the between-group differences. Human traits show continuous/clinal and independent variation and discordance, which means in translation, fluxes, nuancing, and every possible trendy trend in the distribution and transmission of traits. There is no non-arbitrary way to select a set of traits that are compared to fulfill the criteria for defining a race, which means in translation, sections, sharp zones, and related inheritance of "hand-picked" traits (goodbye to phenetism). Therefore, the geographical concept of race fails, as does the ecological one, as the empirical support is poor and the classification based on adaptations in a specific niche as a result of different selective pressures is not guided by clear rules, leading to countless ecotypic races. The phylogenetic concept of race also has a similar problem; the gene flow between human populations was and remains too high for branching to occur.

The author has a message for his fellow citizens: do not raise moral panic about the sperm bank coming to Serbia from Spain and do not be Nazis; without biological variability - DIVERSITY - there is neither evolution nor successful survival. Highly inbred and small bunker populations are doomed to extinction. The ethical code is not in the genetic code. The lifestyle is carried by migrants, not their spermatozoa.

“Откуда сва та страст према једнообразности? Разноликост би била права реч.”



Роман-билборд/проглас/банер/мегафон – напад на читаоца пешчаном олујом соцреализма, акционим тривијама трилера. Љут како на дух времена, тако и на пишчев пропух: не кочопери ми се неваљано, не вређај ми ово мало интелигенције – не објашњавај и не демонстрирај ми пластично, не тупи и не отежи – репетиција је ретардација… Ich-form протагониста је пишчев пион – наместо портрета узица, јер је невидљив – видите?! Показаће вам једнооки Џек.



На текст се (као љигавац) могу налепити и (buzz)words: другост/алтеритет, трећи простор, биос, дупла свест, постајати-животиња (у буквалном значењу; види: црнац као покусни кунић)… Сви ови термини суштински покривају из-авиона-видеће: стереотипију, дискриминацију, острацизам, стигматизацију, фетиш-фобија/домино-суб/егзотика-еротика динамику судара, снатрења, сношаја, смештања и измештања боја под ковитлацом кичице. Лични идентитет се конституише и у односу на друге (гле чуда!), а то је она тријада огледања: како се видим, како ме други виде и како сматрам да ме други виде.



Соц су како индивидуални ликови, тако и колективни – Братство самозваних научника и маса као објекат њиховог огледа. Они индоктринишу и диригују, трансформишу руљу у публику, док им оваква реификација не експлодира у лице.



Данас знамо да људске расе не постоје јер су веће унутаргрупне од међугрупних разлика. Људске особине показују континуалну/клиналну и независну варијацију и дискордантност – у преводу, преливи, нијансирање и свака вашка обашка тренд у расподели и преносу особина. Не постоји неарбитрарни начин одабирања сета особина које се пореде тако да се испуне критеријуми дефинисања расе – у преводу, резови, оштре зоне и везано наслеђивање hand-picked особина (збогом фенетизму). Дакле, географски концепт расе отпада, али и еколошки – емпиријска подршка је сиромашна, а класификација на основу адаптација у одређеној ниши као резултат различитих селективних притисака није вођена јасним правилима, што води безбројним екотипским расама. Сличан проблем има и филогенетски концепт расе; проток гена између људских популација је био и остао превисок да би дошло до гранања.



Својим суграђанима и суграђанкама бих имао нешто да поручим: не дижите моралну панику због банке сперме која у Србију стиже из Шпаније и не будите нацисти; без биолошке варијабилности – РАЗНОЛИКОСТИ – нема ни еволуције ни успешног преживљавања. Високо инбредоване и мале бункер-популације осуђене су на изумирање. Етички код није у генетичком коду. Животни стил проносе мигранти, а не (њихови) сперматозоиди.



Andreasen, R. O. (2007). Biological conceptions of race. In Philosophy of biology (pp. 455-481). North-Holland.