A "Door-In" to Literature

Ralph Ellison’s writing, as we’ve seen reading Invisible Man is stoked with symbolism. In discussing his novel, it seems as though every other word is making some sort of reference to a deeper meaning, a deeper message that the reader must uncover. In fact, every other word is not nearly as much of a hyperbole as it may seem on the surface, as one of the most symbolic aspects of Invisible Man is the names of the characters themselves. The first character to discuss is obviously the narrator and his lack of a name entirely. This is obviously an allusion to his invisibility. He has lost any sense of himself by being pulled around by societies’ whims. Another obvious connection with a name is Rinehart, whose name we talked about a bit in class. The name “Rinehart” seems like a combination of the words “rind”, like the outside layer of something (usually in the context of fruit), and “heart”. “Rind” has clear connections to the outside, the visible layer that must be peeled back to reveal...

       Reading the description of Brother Tod Clifton that the narrator gives on page 363 of Invisible Man is certainly a bit jarring. No other character is described in nearly as much detail, nor as positively. To show just how unusual this description is, here is the narrator’s description of Brother Jack upon first meeting him, “A short insignificant-looking bushy-eyebrowed man with a quiet smile on his face stood beside me, looking not at all like a policemen” (287). That is the whole description. One single sentence that leaves the actual character’s features vague and undefined. Now, here is a section of the description of Brother Clifton, “I saw the broad taut span of his knuckles across the dark grain of the wood, the muscular, sweatered arms, the curving line of the chest rising to the easy pulsing of his throat, to the square, smooth chin, and saw a small X-shaped patch of adhesive upon the subtly blended, velvet-over-stone, granite-over-bone, Afro-Anglo-S...

Ralph Ellison’s novel begins with a simple statement, “I am an invisible man” (1). The narrator then goes on to describe his experience feeling literally invisible, his entire existence practically incomprehensible to anyone but himself. But a question arises when we see the slow onset of invisibility suddenly face a rapid progression in chapter 12 through a sickeningly intense electro-shock therapy session. As we see our narrator begin to lose himself and fall deeper and deeper into invisibility, does he lose his identity? Or does invisibility itself become his being? Here, I’d like to argue that not only is invisibility a valid identity, but in fact, it is the only valid identity. Trapped on the operating table, our narrator thinks “I could no more escape than I could think of my identity. Perhaps, I thought, the two things are involved with each other. When I discover who I am, I’ll be free” (243). Our narrator is absolutely right at this moment. He finds his identity, through i...

     Bigger Thomas is a rapist and a murderer. The second twice over, but the first only once. These three crimes should be more than enough to convict and sentence him to death, yet, in his prosecution, Buckley chooses instead to focus instead on a heinous act that Bigger did not, in fact, commit, the rape of Mary Dalton. This rape is the very crux of Buckley’s case, exemplified in his statement, “He killed her because he raped her! Mind you, Your Honor, the central crime here is rape ! Every action points toward that!” (413). This approach is permissible in court because Max allows it. Max completely dismisses the idea that Bigger did not rape Mary saying, “Let us not concern ourselves with that part of Bigger Thomas’ confession that says […] he did not rape the girl. It really does not matter” (403). Why does it not matter? Why is Bigger convicted largely on a crime that he did not in fact commit?            The answer comes down to...