Sunday, September 23, 2018

A Death, A Birth

I want to talk about the narrator's eulogy for Clifton in chapter 20. I believe this is the first time the narrator expresses original, expressive thought without concern for how others will interpret it. In other words, development of unique consciousness!

Up to this point, the narrator is known for giving flowery speeches that cater towards a certain audience. In the beginning, this speech was at the battle royal and the audience was a group of white men. The white men largely influence the narrator's speech and even interject to make sure his message aligns with their beliefs. The next major speech the narrator gives is for the Brotherhood. Although he doesn't follow their ideology (because he doesn't know what it is), the narrator isn't conscious of the words he is projecting. After the narrator gives his speech, he has trouble recalling "the sequence of the speech." He asks himself, "What had I meant by saying that I had become 'more human'?". The narrator didn't have an outline for his Brotherhood speech and instead catered to the emotional roars of the audience who craved profound and enlightening (but seemingly vague) announcements. The narrator delivered, but it doesn't seem like his words held any specific deep meaning. At this point, the reader doesn't really know what the narrator believes, and it's unclear whether the narrator has any personal beliefs.

Then, comes the eulogy. Right away, I noticed a stark difference in the language the narrator used to speak to the mourning crowd. The narrator speaks almost exclusively in clipped phrases: "I've told you to go home." "What are you waiting for?" "His name was Clifton and they shot him down" "Aren't you sick of the blood?". The short statements draw the attention of the crowd, while the questions put the crowd on the spot and force them to reflect. Instead of howling and roaring like the audiences at the battle royal and the Brotherhood speech, the crowd is "listening intently." The narrator also reveals his true feelings about Clifton's death. He believes the funeral "doesn't matter" because Clifton simply "forgot his history....[and] lost his hold on reality" and there's nothing anyone can do.

The narrator manages to give the most successful political speech of his life by avoiding his traditional political rhetoric entirely. By intensely downplaying Clifton's death, the narrator draws attention to the twisted way society views police brutality. The narrator repeatedly tells the crowd there is nothing to be done while describing, in gory detail, the scene of Clifton's death. One can easily imagine the crowd transitioning from mournful and hurt to confused and defiant to (most importantly) hopeful for change. The narrator is basically using reverse psychology to inspire political action. It's as if he is challenging the crowd: "There's nothing you can do...unless, of course, there is."

Perhaps this is the best speech the narrator has ever given because he finally has a personal connection to the material. He witnessed Clifton's death firsthand. The narrator finally has a concrete reason for speaking, a purpose, and a crowd who actually cares about what he has to say. Because this situation is unfamiliar to the narrator, he doesn't think to pull out the formulated rhetoric he learned from college professors. Instead, the narrator simply is himself (gasp!). Subsequently, I payed way more attention to this speech than the other speeches the narrator gave. I found myself feeling proud of the narrator for finding his voice. For the first time, the reader and the narrator are in agreement that change is coming, and the narrator could be at the heart of it:

"And through the haze I again felt the tension. There was no denying it; it was there and something had to be done before it simmered away in the heat."


Friday, September 14, 2018

Not Your Average Palaver

I would like to explore the implications of the double-meaning of "palaver" used in Invisible Man. The narrator uses the word to describe the interaction he and the doctor have after his brain surgery: "It's been quite pleasant, our little palaver, sir." According to the OED, a palaver is "action or talk" between characters. However, an older etymology reveals that a palaver can also be a negotiation between a "colonial official" and "local people," usually meaning West-Africans. You can imagine how fair this negotiation would be.

There are many ways Ellison could be winking at us by using the word "palaver" in a situation like this. In case you forgot, the narrator had just been on the receiving end of a completely unconsented medical experiment performed by a couple of white doctors. This scene is scarily reminiscent of the experiments done on enslaved black men, making the alternative definition of "palaver" even more powerful and relevant. The white doctors could easily be likened to colonial officials, asserting their white dominance wherever they please while framing their actions as carrying out fair transactions. Although there are strong similarities between the role colonial officials played and the role the white doctors played, I'd like to argue that the definition of "palaver" could also be reversed so that the narrator is the colonial official and the doctors are the local people. Let me explain.

There are various characters throughout the novel who play with this idea of role-reversal. The first and most obvious is the grandfather, who explicitly instructs the narrator to act cordially towards white people while pursuing your own identity on the down-low. The grandfather says, "life is a war and I have been a traitor all my born days," implying that he was actually the one holding the reigns despite the illusion that white people controlled him. Bledsoe has a similar narrative. He reveals to the narrator that he spent a long time kissing up to white people to achieve his level of status. Bledsoe, like grandfather, was playing a game to reach a goal that white people would never allow him to reach overtly.

I think the narrator, perhaps consciously perhaps not, began toying with this idea of role-reversal when he used the word "palaver." The narrator had just finished interrogating the doctor about Mr. Norton, which left the doctor dismayed and confused but still secure in his authority over the narrator. However, there is reason to believe that the narrator is undermining the doctor's power by mentioning Mr. Norton and then using the word "palaver." The narrator asks the doctor if he knows Mr. Norton to point out how similar all of the authority figures in his life are. The narrator then laughs, possibly because he realizes how absurd it is that he once worshipped these authority figures. By then calling his interaction with the doctor a palaver, he mocks the power the doctor believes he has over the narrator. In this moment, the narrator is the colonial official and the doctor is the local. In this moment, the narrator holds the power over the doctor because the narrator understands something about the way the world works that the doctor doesn't. Although the narrator hasn't quite developed a secret goal for himself like his grandfather and Bledsoe, he is finally tapping into that idea of pretending to occupy one role while covertly occupying another.

This scene gives me (hesitant) hope for the narrator's development of consciousness. I'm hopeful because the narrator was able to laugh after coming to a nuanced conclusion about the way his world works. Laughter seems like a better response than anger, for example (I can't help but think of Bigger in this moment and how different Native Son would be if Bigger had laughed instead). I'm hesitant, however, because I don't know how successful this game is in the end. The most Bledsoe seems to get out of it is a couple of Cadillacs. We don't know the details of grandfather's life, or if the game he played was worth the effort. Nevertheless, I am confident that the narrator will continue to grow throughout the novel and eventually develop a consciousness that transcends what we ever expected of him in chapter one.