Wright vs. Hurston

Though the topic of dialect in Their Eyes Were Watching God has been exhausted, thanks to Richard Wright I think there’s just enough oil for me to give it one last run.

While most of us have been receptive to Hurston’s use of vernacular speech, our good friend Richard Wright was quick to accuse Hurston of “[exploiting] that phase of Negro life which is ‘quaint’”, in other words, he felt she that had reduced her characters to exotic spectacles. He goes on to describe the novel as a work of literature tailored for a white audience, because by his logic, these supposedly primitive mannerisms would be a wonted expectation to such readers. Furthermore, Wright claims that the use of dialect does not go beyond contributing an organic effect, and that the novel’s resemblance to oral tradition is highly antiquated. The most profound indictment Wright makes is when he criticizes TEWWG of carrying “no theme, no message, no thought”. By all means, in comparison to a highly aggressive writing style like Wright’s, Hurston’s does not attempt to be nearly as combatant--her pace is much more balanced. Though I cannot say for sure, my assessment is that Wright may have only interpreted the novel as a one-dimensional narrative because he was distracted by the potent use of diction. I have yet to confirm this prognosis!

If you would like to see Wright's full critique, here is the link: http://people.virginia.edu/~sfr/enam358/wrightrev.html

Renaissance

I’m sure many of you have wondered the same thing: why didn’t Ellison show us what happened after the narrator returned to civilization? He could have used this as an opportunity to strengthen his argument that the narrator has benefited enough from his refined perspective; enough that he now has capacity to propagate his newfound knowledge to the masses. Why not mollify our ambivalence and show us how he would “speak for us on the lower frequencies”?

The answer may be simpler than it appears: perhaps Ellison doesn’t give us a verdict because he simply doesn’t know the answer himself. As much as he claims that his novel disseminates universal truths applicable to human beings throughout the spectrum, maybe Ellison, as a member of a dying generation, simply can’t imagine a world where people effectively resist basic categorizations. His personal life is a testament to this--Ellison was often accused of elitism by members of his own race, even though it had been his life’s work to be identified purely for his craft--he, like his character could not escape the implications of his phenotypic qualities. Who’s to say that by elaborating on the narrator’s renaissance, Ellison would be stirring up additional controversy? In the opinions of black nationalists, Invisible Man’s seemingly passive ending was already offensive; to have this enlightened narrator then expose and expand these perversions to the public could instigate even more censure.

But there is yet another angle to explore: what if Ellison is leaving it up to the reader to decide what happens? Could this omission be a blessing? It would certainly eliminate some of the heat he would receive, but more importantly for the reader, his open-endedness is generous, allowing us to personally define the protagonist’s newfound independence and how he would employ it in the real world. Was his retreat into the basement even his last disillusionment? Ellison took a chance by offering this ambiguity, a stylistic choice that makes him both generous to his readers and vulnerable to his critics.

Why “Invisible Man" is a protest novel

Ralph Ellison maintained until the day he died that Invisible Man was not a protest novel. Exasperated that “black fiction” had been branded purely as a subgenre of protest literature and even more bothered by how his black peers brazenly reinforced this pattern, Ellison was determined to pen a composition that would not rely on the preconceived notions of racial relation critique. There are many reasons why, although he emphatically succeeds in the artistic department, I believe Ellison ultimately fails to eschew protest literature--his novel can attest to this.

Here is my interpretation of Ellison’s stream of consciousness: racism had created certain boundaries around the perception of African Americans, who, to counter the effect, began furiously producing literature designed to refute these stereotypes, in the process allowing [white] critics to identify ALL black fiction in the same category. The basis for Invisible Man was to break this cycle and avoid the so-called black aesthetic cliche; instead of advocating racial solidarity, Ellison chose to promote individualism and humanity. This in itself is a social critique. Like the hero in his novel, Ellison realized that as long as he was perceived solely as a member of a fixed group rather than as an individual, he would always be invisible. In other words, it was more valuable for him to become a successful author than a successful black author. 

During his lifetime, Ellison was often accused of being an elitist for his contempt of the black nationalist movement and his camaraderie with white critics. His aversion to chastising racial barriers did not resonate with the growing breed of black nationalists, who saw his approach as not only obsolete but also too passive. Nevertheless, I think his model of activism is important to note. As Ellison once said of Invisible Man, "This is not a self-help or self-hate book; it is a plea for common survival”, that is to say, his novel is not trying to cure invisibility nor excoriate it. He did not want to be exploited like the narrator, who became a symbol of the Brotherhood, or like the Founder, who had been helplessly immortalized as a champion of black humility. Ellison chose an affinity to preaching universal truths, which is especially echoed in the epilogue by the narrator, who implies that his identity and experiences are shared among but not limited to members of his race--anyone can be a Rinehart. Racism only impedes this ubiquitous prerogative.

By trying to avoid becoming one, Ellison was inadvertently establishing himself as a protest writer--a protest against protest fiction, if you will. In spite of this shortcoming, he delivers an extremely pertinent and comprehensive social critique. By these principles, white society is not the all-inclusive enemy--conformity is. “Who knows but that on the lower frequencies; I speak for you?”