By Renwick Miller

Life’s been full of synchronicities for me this last month or so, not least of which is finding and devouring Ralph Ellison’s iconic novel “Invisible Man” some 25 or more years after becoming aware of it in my early teens. It’s the coming of age story of an unnamed young man in an unnamed time as he’s whipped from trial to tribulation like a ping pong ball; Internalized racism comes of age inside him, maturing into full blown self-hate and swatting him to the waiting paddle of the beloved black institution(s) of his time. They seem to have salvaged some sense of an inherent value in black humanity, if not in blackness itself, and he seeks to follow their lead.

Observing the seemingly effectual and (presumably) century-old tradition of proving one’s worth, and therefore the worth of a race via achievement in and eventual acceptance from the very white southern culture that had reduced his people to ashes in slavery and reconstruction, he works hard to fit that mold, with aspirations of growth and expansion to break it. Aspirations that understandably remain unspoken even to himself as he bumbles and puzzles along the only survivable path he can see before him through Jim Crow America.

He finds that not only does playing by the rules fail him, but there are rules about rules; which to follow, when and which to break, what and whom to break them over. The combination of youthful naiveté, and near complete ignorance of self make him an easy target for betrayal, which swats him harder and further than he’d ever imagined possible, into a world waiting and eager to dish him more of the same, on ever larger, ever grander stages.

SPOILER ALERT

I’ll give away no plot details, but if you’re the sort of reader that skips a foreword, preface, and sometimes even a prologue, or puts down even the most glowing of book reviews midway through in favor of finding your own way, stop here. I’m no Ralph Ellison by any means, and won’t steal this puzzlingly joyful tragedy of a read from you. I’ll even give you a page break.

———(Page break. You were warned)———–

For those of you still here, I’ll tell you why I think this book matters as much now as it did in 1954:  It is me. It’s you. It’s the story of any one of us who’s spent our lives here trying to make sense of being born into hatred, knowing instinctively that to be born is to be loved. In it’s cruelly honest way, it is the echo of our humanity it’s protagonist strains to hear.

Ellison’s Invisible Man(child) comes to his manhood via the crushing recognition that he is not a man. Certainly not a human, at least. College man, painter man, speaker and preacher man, but not human. I’m sure that in these days where employees are no more and we’re all “human resources” just about anyone can relate.

Ellison doesn’t leave it there though; He bounces us through Jim Crow life right along with the boy, from inside himself to the outer world, and in the outer world from south to north, never revealing any more about him than we’re ready to know about ourselves. I found myself too caught up in our hero’s puzzles of survival to even consider the existential. Not until days after I read the last word and it had sunk deep into my bones did I look back and re-learn that body and soul are inseparable partners for this ride of life, and realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

The synchronicities? The largest one is the fact that I knew as a kid it was something I should read, and never did. Not until 25 or so years later, when my own internal struggle had (I hoped) played completely out and I was able pick up what Mr. Ellison had put down did The Invisible Man find me again, hiding in one of my neighborhood’s community book bins, being invisible. Sandwiched between old textbooks and travel magazines, The Invisible Man told me what a good companion he’d be on my way to work; another day of achievement in an American corporation.  Finally, but still without a clue what I was in for, I picked him up.

Later that same week, an internet book-buddy and I actually dropped the instant messaging and picked up the phone(s) one night to really converse; Politics, literature, social psychology and it’s mechanisms of control; He’d had me as a guest panelist on his roundtable radio show about the same, and somewhere in that night’s conversation said;

“Y’know what you’d really enjoy, maybe even relate to? It’s called “The Invisible Man” by Ralph… Ralph… I forget.  Incredibly, masterfully well- written. There was this one part in particular of this kid’s life…”

I’d describe the chapter in the book, or arc in our protagonist’s life that my friend described to me, but I’m guessing you’re the type of reader that likes to find your own way.

Though readily available through all the usual resources (Amazon, etc…) Click the picture above for the entire book in PDF form , courtesy of Baltimore Polytechnic Institute.