Adventures in Literature

When reading the end of Invisible Man , one of the passages that came right near the end really interested me. The narrator describes why he’s writing his novel and also how he now views and approaches life. On pages 578-580, the paragraph goes: So why do I write, torturing myself to put it down? Because in spite of myself I've learned some things. Without the possibility of action, all knowledge comes to one labeled "file and forget," and I can neither file nor forget. Nor will certain ideas forget me; they keep filing away at my lethargy, my complacency. Why should I be the one to dream this nightmare? Why should I be dedicated and set aside -- yes, if not to at least tell a few people about it? There seems to be no escape. Here I've set out to throw my anger into the world's face, but now that I've tried to put it all down the old fascination with playing a role returns, and I'm drawn upward again. So even before I finish I've failed (maybe my anger...

The symbolism in Invisible Man is certainly one of the most visible parts of the book. Although sometimes it screams at you (take Liberty Paints, for example), and other times it’s more subtle, Ralph Ellison seems to make it present throughout almost all of the novel. One of the small yet interesting details of chapter 20 is when the narrator, seemingly out of nowhere, decides to buy a new pair of shoes. This scene happens directly after he returns to Harlem, finds that the Brotherhood has fallen apart there, and notices that he purposefully was not invited to one of their meetings. The passage states: When I arrived the meeting was in session, just as I expected, and word had been left that it was not to be disturbed by anyone. It was obvious that they hadn't forgotten to notify me. I left the building in a rage. Very well, I thought, when they do decide to call me they'll have to find me. I should never have been shifted in the first place, and now that I was sent back to cle...