"Through love as through hate."

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 is too heavy; perhaps, being a talker, I've used too many words). But I've failed. The very act of trying to put it all down has confused me and negated some of the anger and some of the bitterness. So it is that now I denounce and defend, or feel prepared to defend. I condemn and affirm, say no and say yes, say yes and say no. I denounce because though implicated and partially responsible, I have been hurt to the point of abysmal pain, hurt to the point of invisibility. And I defend because in spite of all I find that I love. In order to get some of it down I have to love. I sell you no phony forgiveness, I'm a desperate man -- but too much of your life will be lost, its meaning lost, unless you approach it as much through love as through hate. So I approach it through division. So I denounce and I defend and I hate and I love.


This passage compels me because I’m not exactly sure what it means at all. Actually, it really confuses me. But I think that’s part of why I find it so interesting too! The only major connection that I can think of right away is to the narrator’s grandfather. (Indeed, in the very next paragraph on page 580, the narrator discusses the grandfather again. He talks about how the grandfather “accepted his humanity just as he accepted the principle.”) It seems that in this paragraph, the narrator is doing something different than the grandfather’s advice or strategy, which was to always say “yes” to get what he wants underneath. This, however, didn't really seem to work out for the narrator in the Brotherhood. Perhaps this is why, after the failure of this strategy, the narrator says that he “condemns” and “affirms” and says both “no” and “yes” (instead of just "yes"). I’m not really sure if this is an important connection, but perhaps it shows the narrator’s critical consciousness development and how his outlook on life became much more dynamic and complex by the end of the narrative.


Another part of this passage that intrigued me was when he discusses that he is “hurt to the point of invisibility,” yet he does not spew anger throughout all of the novel. Instead, the narrator approaches life through “hate and love.” Why does the narrator feel that he “has to love” in order to live a meaningful life overall? I don’t remember too many points where the narrator seems to feel love particularly. There are moments when the narrator seems pleased (eg. when he first starts working for the Brotherhood and it’s very successful, when he closely bonds and forms a friendship with Tod Clifton, when he eats the yams, etc.), but he never really seems to “love” anything that he encounters. And if he does, it perhaps doesn’t last long. 


I feel that, however, we can see this approach to life “through love as through hate” when he is living his life underground, particularly in the Prologue. For instance, we discussed as a class how the narrator, overall, seems pretty content with his life in those first moments of the novel, as he discusses all the “perks” of invisibility, how he has the 1,369 lights (is there a reason it includes all multiples of three after the 1,000?), how he enjoys listening to music, and how he is a “thinker-tinker” (7). When he’s in this hole, he doesn’t seem to hate. Rather, he seems to be using it as a time of opportunity and as his time of a new sense of freedom (at least from the “absurd” life above him) (579). Could this be what he means, approaching life through both love and hate? Does it mean noticing the harmful and unjust situations and things in life, and letting yourself hate and notice them, while trying to love and enjoy life with what you have? If so, this certainly seems to be a development from the start of the novel. The narrator, such as with the battle royal, seems to feel no or at least minimal hate towards the white people who are absolutely terrible.


The narrator recognizes here that he is hurt, and he hates it. But he also makes a point that he loves and perhaps expresses this throughout the novel, which “confuses” him (579). Although the narrator is completely justified in being miserable and utterly enraged, and we see how he had a very challenging, terrible, and unjust life destroyed by racism, he says that his life is not defined by this misery and the hate. Perhaps the end of this novel shows more hope, even if the narrator is in this underground enclosed space. He says he is ready to come out from hibernation too and is about to play his socially responsible role. Approaching life through “division,” the narrator’s life is not ruined. He now knows and allows himself to feel hate, and he learned from his life experiences, but I feel that he knows better what he “loves” and what to fight for as well. Maybe the narrator is trying to say that we can’t find meaning in life and in hate, unless we experience love too? Perhaps love is what gives hate meaning, as something to compare it to? (I’m not sure!)


In a way, the narrator’s underground cave is the most “free” that he has ever been throughout this book. He is the most open here and it allows him to act how he wants within its boundaries and feel what he feels. By writing this novel, the narrator shows how he can express himself fully and truthfully for the first time when he is in this hole, very unlike with the Brotherhood and all of his life before then. It’s really the only time and place for the narrator to be in “peace, or if not in peace, in quiet” (571). He is better able to figure himself out, find his meaning in his life and what he stands for, and recognize and allow himself to “hate” while also finding things to “love,” no matter how challenging it may be.


But, even though I really like this passage, I’m still not sure of its meaning at all! If you’d like to share, what do you think?



Ellison, Ralph. Invisible Man. Vintage Books, 1980.

Comments

  1. There is a LOT that is confusing about the ending of this novel, and this confusion has something to do with the narrator's affection for paradox. But all of the "affirmation" in this passage makes me think of another confusing turn in the Epilogue, also connected to the grandfather: when the narrator suddenly re-reinterprets the grandfather's "curse" as saying that despite all of the ways that the USA has failed to meet the promise of the ideals enshrined in its founding documents, the "principle" of individual freedom and responsibility is still worth affirming. "Undermine 'em with yeses" becomes, in this interpretation, affirming the principles of individual freedom and responsibility--which will then "undermine" racism by insisting on the very individual identity that racism tries to subvert?

    It's a nice idea in a lot of ways, and we can see Ellison as anticipating some of Martin Luther King's rhetoric of "cashing a check" that was promised with the signing of the Declaration of Independence--calling out the nation *on its own terms* for its crimes against humanity. But I'm not at all confident that this is what the grandfather had in mind, despite the narrator's certainty that it's what he "must have" meant.

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