The Logic of Love in Beloved

The concept of love is a very complex one in Toni Morrison's Beloved, in that many of the characters in the novel consider it as a burden in their lives, and thus refuse to embrace it to it's full extent. In several instances in the novel, characters like Paul D and Ella speak about forgoing emphatic love entirely, and instead distancing themselves from the rest of the world, in fear that if something were to happen to a loved one, the resulting agony would be too much to bear. For Paul D, this lifestyle of his is apparent in the scene where Denver asks him how long he will "hand around," as Paul is skeptical about Sethe's intense love for her child considering the fact that she is an escaped slave. For Ella, this sentiment regarding love is apparent when she organizes the party of women to rescue Sethe from Beloved's oppression. Both characters believe it is best to love nothing too much, and thus appear fairly stable throughout the novel in terms of character development. What's interesting to note, however, is how the characters who adopt the opposite mindset feel, mainly Sethe and Denver and their respective character developments in light of their strong love for Beloved. Although both characters show an initial intense desire and love for Beloved when she enters the novel, Denver is able to stay relatively unaffected by Beloved's departure, and actually flourish due to her dwindling sense of love for Beloved in the weeks leading up to her disappearance, while Sethe's love persists and proves to hurt her in the end, just what Paul D and Ella have attempted to prevent for their entire lives.

Morrison depicts Paul D's notion of distancing himself from everything and keeping his love spread out early in the novel, when he consider's the logic behind Sethe's unequivocal love for Beloved: "Risky, thought Paul D, very risky. For a used-to-be-slave woman to love anything that much was dangerous, especially if it was her children she had settled on to love. The best thing, he knew, was to love just a little bit; everything, just a little bit, so when they broke it's back, or shoved it in a croaker sack, well, maybe you'd have a little love left over for the next one" (54). We can see from these lines Paul D's paranoia about love. He makes the point that loving someone too much is more of a detriment than the benefits that one receives from the relationship, in that the despair felt after the loss of a loved one isn't worth it. Paul D highlights the fact that this notion is even more pronounced for Sethe, an escaped slave-woman with children, as he believes that it isn't wise for Sethe to love her children so much when there is always the lingering possibility that a slave catcher could appear and separate her family. At the time, Paul D doesn't know just how accurate his analysis of love is, as it is this exact reasoning that causes Sethe to kill Beloved when schoolteacher shows up at 124. By "loving everything a little bit" Paul D aims to lessen the sorrow when a loved one is lost or taken away, to the point where he can muster up enough strength to continue with his life by focusing on everything else that he has distributed his love to. As a result of this mindset, Paul D appears fairly nomadic throughout the novel, moving around a lot to escape slavery, and living independently for most of his life. Ella shares a similar belief due to her traumatic experiences being trapped by the father and son. She feels no desire to love anyone and is content with the fact that the reverse is true: "Nobody loved her and she wouldn't have liked it if they had, for she considered love a serious disability" (301). Ella describes love as a disability and therefore feels no desire to indulge in it. Feeling a strong sense of love will only end up backfiring in Ella's eyes, and as a result she appears independent throughout the novel.

When considering Paul D and Ella's concept of how to approach love, it seems to hold true for the other main characters in the novel: Sethe and Denver. Both Sethe and Denver show a strong love for Beloved at various point in the novel--Denver immediately after Beloved's arrival, and Sethe after the guilt settles in that she killed her first daughter. However, despite the fact that both character's expressed a strong love for Beloved in the novel, only Sethe is affected in the way that Paul D and Ella would predict. Despite showing intense love for Beloved, just what Paul D and Ella dissuade, Denver is able to move past Beloved's disappearance and actually thrive from it. The difference between Sethe and Denver with respect to their affection for Beloved is mainly in the time period that they express it. Denver's initial infatuation with Beloved disappears after she realizes the ramifications of Beloved's presence on Sethe's mental fortitude. As a result, Denver's love for Beloved starts to falter towards the end of the novel, so when Beloved disappears, Denver doesn't break down, but actually grows as a character due to her ability to transcend the thought of being reunited with her sister. Sethe's love for Beloved, on the other hand, peaks right before Beloved's departure, and as a result she follows the path that Paul D and Ella strive so hard to stay away from. She invested her love so much into Beloved that when she disappears, Sethe is broken and starts to deteriorate as a character. It is interesting to consider where Paul D and Ella's notions regarding love would hold true if Beloved disappeared when Denver had still been expressing an intense love for Beloved. According to Paul D and Ella, Denver would have had a reaction similar to how Sethe feels at the end of the novel, devoid and lacking a purpose in life.

Indifference and Identity in The White Boy Shuffle

Throughout Paul Beatty's novel, The White Boy Shuffle, Gunnar Kaufman at times appears as a very aloof and hard to decipher character, especially with respect to his puzzling resentment of his astonishing innate proficiency in playing basketball. Despite his seemingly jovial and humorous demeanor in his interactions with his friends throughout the novel, Gunnar shows a surprising dissatisfaction with not only his success in basketball but also the identity that is formed around him as a result of his immense success. At several points in the novel, Gunnar expresses his resent for his new persona as Phillis Wheatley's star black ball player through not just his basketball play itself, but also his poetry, something that we later learn he would much rather be known for. What seems like an ideal life for a black high school basketball player, what with numerous friends, a cheerful wife, admission into a reputable university, and an inexplicable natural talent for basketball, actually doesn't resonate too well with Gunnar, as he finds himself hating basketball--and the fame that comes with it--more than we would think of someone in his position. Gunnar's discontent with his own fame and identity manifests itself in the form of indifference, at first towards the game he is so skilled at but later extending towards his relationships with his friends, too. While on the surface it appears as though Gunnar's life couldn't be better, we can observe throughout the novel how Gunnar's dislike for his forced identity develops, causing him to lose interest in basketball and his friends, eventually resulting in his shockingly blunt view of suicide at the end of the novel.

One of our first glimpses of Gunnar's rapid loss of interest in basketball is during the free throw scene when Gunnar is playing one of his games with Scoby at Phillis Wheatley. The game is close and Gunnar has the chance to clinch the victory by making one of his free throws at the end of the game: "A voice barrel-rolled out of the stands, demanding attention. "Come on, Gunnar, we need these." We? I didn't even need these free throws. I missed the first one on purpose. The crowd moaned and spit, instantly stricken with psychosomatic bellyaches. "Please, make this next one, please, goddammit." They were hypnotized and didn't even know it, and I was the hypnotist" (116). We can see Gunnar's indifference for basketball stem from this scene, as he seems to care more about spiting the crowd, rather than scoring the winning basket in a close game. Even in such a high pressure scenario, Gunnar doesn't care about the game or the free throws, but instead focuses on a seemingly minor comment from someone in the crowd, potentially throwing the game for his entire school to do so. Gunnar has become so fed up with the school's view of him as simply a basketball player, and thus doesn't place much importance on winning the game itself. This is why he becomes so angry by the person's choice of the word "we" when shouting to him from the crowd. The person tries to lump himself in with Gunnar and give off the sense that Gunnar is shooting his free throw for the entire school, but in reality Gunnar is shooting the free throw for no one, not even himself. He resents the identity that the school places onto him and holds him to of being the star basketball player, which is why he gets so angry at the person in the crowd who acts closer to Gunnar by saying "we", actually only knowing him for his basketball skill. Gunnar's surprising anger during this scene could relate to the dynamic at his past school, before he moved to Phillis Wheatley. At his previous school, Gunnar was placed into the role of the "funny, cool black kid" by his classmates, and it is possible that when the person from the crows effectively assigns him his identity as the star black basketball player of the school, he is reminded of this event and misses the free throw in an attempt to anger the crowd, the majority of which doesn't actually know Gunnar but actually assumes his identity as such. After scoring his second free throw, the crown rushes the court, and Coach Shimimoto congratulates Gunnar. Even here, Gunnar doesn't express the euphoria that we expect after winning such a tense game, but simply thinks about how much he "really do[esn't] give a fuck" about the climactic victory.

This notion of Gunnar's aloof, surprisingly indifferent behavior in the novel actually extends beyond his ambiguous identity in basketball into other aspects of his life, too. The main example of this is in Gunnar's views of suicide towards the end of the novel. We first receive the shocking news that Dexter Waverly has killed himself in response to Gunnar's speech that he gives outside Boston University. When shown a poem about death and prompted to speak about Dexter's death, Gunnar responds: ""That's not a bad poem. But I don't feel responsible for anything anyone else does. I have enough trouble being responsible for myself. Besides, it looks like Dexter's death prevented one hundred million dollars from being deposited in the National Party's coffers"" (201). Gunnar assumes absolutely no responsibility regarding Dexter's suicide, simply stating that it was Dexter's decision to kill himself and since he chose to, so be it. As readers, we find Gunnar's nonchalance towards suicide very concerning here, as it appears that his indifference towards basketball is slowly creeping into other parts of his life as well. By simply waving off Dexter's death as if nothing happened, Gunnar exhibits his growing apathy towards several serious aspects of his life, such as the lives of his friends at Boston University. Although, Dexter was actually quite nice to Gunnar during his speech, actually proclaiming him as the new leader of the black community at BU, Gunnar seems to reciprocate none of this feeling, as evident by his stark view of Dexter's suicide. This very linear view of suicide by Gunnar extends itself even to the end of the novel, when his best friend Nicholas Scoby decides to kill himself. While Gunnar does express grief this time, it is only after Scoby is gone. He does nothing to try and stop Scoby and talk him out of it, instead simply thinking that Scoby can make whatever decision he wants to make. Finally, we see Gunnar's lifeless view of suicide culminate in the very last scene of the book when Gunnar speaks to Psycho Loco, revealing his true beliefs of the meaning of his life: "I'm the horse pulling the stagecoach, the donkey in the levee who's stumbled in the mud and come up lame. You may love me, but I'm tired of thrashing around in the muck and not getting anywhere, so put a nigger out his misery" (226). Gunnar directly states that he has grown weary of basketball and his life in general, never accomplishing anything he deems substantial. Even when Gunnar receives immense adoration or praise for something, such as his basketball skill or poetic prowess, he feels incomplete in his identity and feels that his talent/work isn't being recognized properly. As a result, it seems as thought Gunnar never really found any point in living his life, as basketball meant next to nothing to him and poetry would never get him anywhere. Scoby's suicide acted as a catalyst for Gunnar's radical views to come to surface, allowing him to finally show how different his views of his own life actually are compared to the attitude we once believed he held.

An Evaluation of Richard Wright's Critique on "Their Eyes Were Watching God"

In the excerpts we read from "Between Laughter and Tears," Richard Wright puts forth a very severe critique of Zora Neale Hurston's novel Their Eyes Were Watching God with respect to its content and failure to address the pressing issues of the times. Wright's main point of disapproval towards the novel lies in his belief that it does nothing to challenge the issues of racism and white supremacy in the early 20th century, but rather has the reverse effect and actually bolsters white misconceptions of the simplicity of black life. Wright's claims do have some merit considering the context of blackface during the times. Blackface minstrelsy was a popular occurrence at the time, as white people would mockingly dress up as blacks to disparage them, and Wright believes that Hurston's depictions of black life throughout the novel do nothing to go against this. Hurston places a great focus on getting across the nuances of everyday black life by describing the actions of Janie and Tea Cake in detail throughout the novel. Because she devotes so much of her novel to this desire to get across the interactions between black characters themselves, rather than how black characters in her novel interact with racism and white characters, we can see in part how Wright's frustrations with the novel are justified. While several of the claims that Wright makes throughout the excerpts are valid considering the grand scheme of things, we also must understand Hurston's purpose in writing her novel, as it seems as though Hurston had no intention of writing Wright's ideal protest novel in the first place.

Wright is extremely harsh in his comments directed towards Their Eyes Were Watching God, but it's important to realize that from his perspective, several of his claims are justified. Interestingly, Wright actually acknowledges Hurston's writing style at times during his critique, saying things such as "Miss Hurston can write," to show that his primary concern is with the specific things Hurston chooses to write about in her novel. This small acknowledgement furthers his argument in that it places the focus of his criticism on the content of the novel rather than Hurston herself. Wright's first issue with the novel is in its inability to address any topic that he considers significant during the times, saying that "neither of the two novels has a basic idea or theme that lends itself to significant interpretation. Miss Hurston seems to have no desire whatever to move in the direction of serious ficiton..." Racism and white supremacy were the two connected areas of major controversy in the first half of the 20th century, and Wright is correct in stating that Hurston seems to have no desire whatsoever to combat these issues. This can be seen by the utter lack of significant white characters throughout the novel. Hurston actually exhibits racism in her novel, but not in the traditional sense, instead through Mrs. Turner's unsettling remarks about race and skin color. The fact that Hurston doesn't just not address a major issue in her novel, but instead mentions racism without condemning it, provides fuel of Wright in his argument of the futility of the novel to get a significant point across. While it is true that Wright can't really fault Hurston for copying his style of protest novel, his main point lies in the unintended result of Their Eyes Were Watching God on a predominantly white audience. Wright states that "Miss Hurston voluntarily continues in her novel the tradition which was forced upon the Negro in the theatre, that is, the minstrel technique that makes the "white folks" laugh. Her characters eat and laugh and cry and work and kill." Wright believes that through Hurston's seemingly harmless depictions of the essence of daily black life, she inadvertently supports blackface minstrelsy and the racist beliefs of supremacy that white people use to discriminate against blacks. While it may seem as thought Hurston's depictions of Janie and Tea Cake laughing, eating, and especially playing in the muck are harmless, in Wright's eyes these descriptions simply provide racist whites with more evidence to establish a feeling of superiority over the supposedly "simplistic" blacks.

We can see why Wright is so emphatic in his critique on Hurston's novel specifically, but we also must consider Hurston's side in her own purpose in writing the novel. Hurston surely didn't write the novel to support white racist beliefs, as Wright suggests her novel did, but likely took her novel as an opportunity to delve deep into the beauty in the seemingly mundane aspects of Janie's life. Hurston didn't write a protest novel because she had no desire to write a protest novel, and we should not hold Their Eyes Were Watching God to a standard such as Wright's Native Son when the two novels were written for completely different reasons. Wright's claims are valid in the novel's unforeseen impact on a wider white audience, but we must also give Hurston some freedom in shaping her novel however she desires, in this case, as one woman's story of love rather than a shock-inducing protest novel.

Validation of Janie's Behavior in Her Failed Marriages

Already in the first few chapters of Their Eyes Were Watching God, Hurston provides readers with a very detailed, nuanced depiction of Janie's marital history through her use of free indirect discourse, narrating through Janie's voice as she tells her tumultuous story of her past relationships with Logan Killicks, Joe Starks, and Vergible Woods—better known as Tea Cake. From a young age Janie is restricted by her grandmother, Nanny, with respect to her romantic and sexual freedom. Nanny, having herself experienced the trauma of rape and the later horror of learning that her own daughter had fallen upon the same fate, acts extremely over-protectively of Janie's natural adolescent endeavors in love, causing Janie to feel confined to her grandmother's wishes. While she at first abides by Nanny's desire for her to marry into a wealthy, stable relationship in the farmer Logan Killicks, she eventually expresses her discontent with her limited freedom, building it up within her for several years before finally revealing her feelings to Killicks. It seems as thought Janie is happy after her initial withdraw from her marriage when she meets Joe Starks, a man who she will again appear to be content with at first but later express her frustration of. From these essentially failed marriages with Logan Killicks and Joe Starks, the question arises, can we really sympathize with Janie after her abrupt actions in her first two marriages, or should we rather sympathize with those men who had Janie stolen from her, whether by another man or by death? On the surface it may seem obvious that Janie's selfish actions in both of her marriages prevent her from deserving any sympathy, but we can see by understanding Janie's circumstances—*namely the corrupt nature of both relationships—and by observing the pity she expresses for Killicks that Janie is in fact worthy of the sympathy we are initially reluctant to give her.


The first instance of corruptness in Janie's marital life comes with her first marriage to Logan Killicks, a middle class, wealthy farmer. Janie's ultimate decision to leave Killicks for another man at the end of the relationship force us to question the validity of sympathizing with Janie. Although the relationship seems fairly normal at first, this is largely due to Janie's inexperience as a 16 year-old girl, and Janie's problems with the relationship surface over time. She goes to her grandmother to ask her why she has experienced no love yet in the relationship, as she believed that love would develop over time, again exhibiting her naivety. Hurston narrates through Janie using free indirect discourse: "The familiar people and things failed her so she hung over the gate and looked up the road towards way off. She knew now that marriage did not make love. Janie's first dream was dead, so she became a woman" (24). Her we see Janie's initial realization of her dislike for her grandmother's way of confining her, as she realizes that her love for Killicks will never come as she expected it to. As she has never been in a legitimate relationship before, in part due to Nanny, this is earth-shattering for Janie's happiness and patience in the relationship. When Janie understands that this means her arguments with Killicks over her lack of desire to aid him in his work will never cease, likely getting even worse over time, she become miserable. Understanding her current unhappiness and foreseeing this unhappiness exaggerated in her future, Janie decides to run away from her marriage will Logan in favor of a fresh change of pace who comes in the form of Joe Starks. It is important to stress Janie's still maturing attitude while facing relationship struggles in this time period. This is Janie's first real relationship in the novel—*arranged for her almost forcefully by her grandmother—and even herself expresses how she "became a woman" after this first shock regarding her lack of love for Killicks.

Janie's relationship with Joe Starks starts out well, as she admires his ambition and aspirations in becoming mayor when the couple moves to Eatonville, Florida. Joe slowly gains influence in Eatonville, and seeks to establish a sense of superiority between him/Janie and the rest of the Eatonville community through acts such as showing off his purchase of land and buying a two-story house. While Joe's ambition to succeed and appear as a leader in Eatonville are both genuine, they eventuate to having the side effect of constricting Janie's freedom. Joe believes that Janie shouldn't interact with the other members of the community, as it would reflect poorly on them if the mayor's wife was constantly interacting with laypeople, diminishing the status rift between the Starks (Joe and Janie) and the rest of Eatonville. As a result of Joe's philosophy of appearing superior, his restriction of Janie's freedom extends as far as to not even letting her converse with the customers who sit at the front of her store. Janie eventually expresses her discontent with Joe constantly confining her to the store and her desire to interact with others more. Joe completely shuts Janie down, forcing her to keep her true feelings pent up once again, while at the same time Janie starts to realize Joe's old, sluggish nature, and eventually learns of his impending death. Janie expresses her feelings about Joe's death after her failure to speak to him one last time: "She was sorry about the root-doctor because she feared that Joe was depending on the scoundrel to make him well when what he needed was a doctor, and a good one. She was worried about his not eating his meals [...] So she bought him a beef bone and made him some soup" (78). Despite Joe's heavily restricting behavior towards Janie throughout the years of their marriage, Janie still finds the sympathy to express her sorrow for him, and do anything to alleviate his suffering despite how he acted towards her in the past. She even goes to the effort of getting him a new doctor in spite of his stubbornness to stick to miracle workers, showing the genuine care she still has for Joe even though she condemns the relationship. Considering the circumstances, Janie could just leave Joe and go off to live a new life with Tea Cake, and we would find that understandable as she would finally have done something to escape her constricted environment and express her freedom. The fact that she still shows even the slightest sympathy for Joe, even if she appears happy after he dies, shows her compassion at the most basic level, a trait that encourages us to sympathize with her at this point in the novel.

*I apologize for the weird formatting following some of my sentences. This is my first time trying to insert em dashes into Blogger...

Invalidation of the Narrator's Identity in the Brotherhood

In the first part of Invisible Man, we see the narrator wander aimlessly among several wealthy, powerful aristocrats (Bledsoe, Norton, Emerson) in an attempt to try and form an identity and make something meaningful of his life. Early on, this ardent desire of the narrator to force his life in a certain direction takes the form of attempting to siphon an identity from these wealthy, powerful characters, such as Bledsoe, and actually ends up having the reverse effect of blinding the narrator from the character's true intentions and what is really going on behind the scenes. We observe this in the first part of the book through the narrator's unrelenting, delusional optimism even when situations look dire, as he simply convinces himself that he will find success with one of these men rather than having to form his own identity and make his unique mark on society. Due to the narrator's lack of ability to do this, coupled with his reliance on others stemming from the belief that he must strive to be like them to succeed, he is never able to form an identity and progress independently throughout his life, thus appearing invisible. This notion changes when he joins the Brotherhood, however, as Brother Jack makes an appearing offer to the narrator to become a leading spokesmen of the organization, providing the narrator with a chance to feel like he himself, as an individual, has a purpose in life, by persuading others to take action and making a difference in their lives. Because of the narrator's newfound confidence due to exposure to the rest of the community, he no longer feels invisible as he has, with the help of Brother Jack, made an identity for himself in the Brotherhood organization. While the narrator seems to be content with his position in his Brotherhood for the majority of his time in the organization, it is after the controversial death of Brother Tod Clifton, and the perhaps even more controversial (at least within the Brotherhood) funeral ceremony that the narrator puts on for him that causes the narrator to see the Brotherhood in a different light, as well as start to question the true motives behind the organization. After debating with Brother Jack and Tobitt about Clifton's death and subsequently arguing with Hambro about the Brotherhood's policies and true motives, the narrator realizes the meaninglessness of his identity in the Brotherhood, once again appearing invisible and without identity, and causing him to take on his grandfather's beliefs of tricking with feigned optimism, as although he has lost his identity, the difference from the beginning of the book is that he understands his invisibility.

Immediately following the narrator's witnessing of Clifton's death at the hands of a white cop, the narrator is astonished and speechless, feeling that he is at fault. In response to this, the narrator decides to hold a funeral procession for brother Clifton simply because of his unjust death at the hands of a white cop for an act as meager as illegally selling paper Sambo dolls. It is important to note here that the narrator does this and speaks at the ceremony without first consulting the Brotherhood committee. This act of the narrator comes back to punish him, as Brother Jack and Tobitt confront him about his individual acts regarding Clifton. Brother Tobitt is more than happy to call the narrator out on his rash, individual actions, sarcastically asking if "that [is] all the great tactician has to tell us?" (463). Tobitt realizes that the narrator acted alone his his endeavors, something that looks even worse after the debacle with Brother Wrestrum, and strives to heavily express his disapproval of the narrator's actions using sarcasm. The narrator genuinely believes that Clifton deserved a proper, publicized funeral, as he was unjustly killed by a white cop, but Brother Tobitt and Jack misinterpret this as an act from the narrator that's against the Brotherhood organization. When the narrator expresses his views as to why he acted as he did, stating that it was his "personal responsibility" to hold the funeral, Brother Jack simply tells him that he did wrong because Clifton was a traitor, again with a strong use of sarcasm in order to undermine the narrator and make him look silly, throwing his own words back at him by stretching out "personal re-spon-si-bility" (464).. While the narrator protests, saying that it is unjust that Clifton, unarmed, was killed for such a petty reason, Brother Jack is quick to silence him, stating that "you were not hired to think. Had you forgotten that? If so, listen to me: You were not hired to think" (469). This is where the narrator starts to see the true method and motives behind how the Brotherhood really works. Up until now, the narrator believed that he had found his own identity with the Brotherhood and that the Brotherhood is what gave his life meaning, pulling him out of his cloak of invisibility. After hearing Brother Jack clearly and directly remind the narrator why he was hired, however, the narrator starts to question his position in the organization, as if the true behind-the-scenes motives of the leaders are overshadowing his own opinions and thoughts regarding the organization, then maybe the narrator's identity in the organization isn't so set it stone after all.

While the confrontation with Jack and Tobitt in the meeting plants these doubts of the Brotherhood's legitimacy and transparency inside the narrator's head, it is his meeting with Hambro about sacrifice following Clifton's death that convince the narrator that his identity with the Brotherhood is invalidated. Hambro states that it is necessary to make sacrifices in order to achieve the ultimate goal of the Brotherhood, which frustrates the narrator, as it means that during the narrator's time with the Brotherhood he hadn't been told the whole truth. In the narrator's eyes, this notion of sacrifice implies that the Brotherhood doesn't really care about it's members, and deems them expendable, further invalidating the his position and identity with the Brotherhood. While at first the narrator though the Brotherhood cold provide him with a unique purpose in his life and a way to escape his prior invisibility, he simply ends up being invisible again after realizing the truth about the Brotherhood: "Only in the Brotherhood had there seemed a chance for such as us, the mere glimmer of a light, but behind the polished and humane facade of Jack's eye I'd found an amorphous form and a harsh red rawness. And even that was without meaning except for me" (507). Now that the narrator has understood the way in which the Brotherhood manipulates and later disposes of its members, he once again feels as he did earlier in the book, lacking identity and a purpose. The narrator had simply been blindly following the route Brother Jack had set up for him, only now stopping to consider how much the Brotherhood actually valued and paid attention to his opinions, realizing that all the real work is done by a select few leaders in the organization. While the narrator does go back to his previous position of lacking identity that he had in the first half of the book with Bledsoe, the difference is that the narrator now knows how he is being played, and understands his invisibility, contrary to before when he simply expressed delusional, unrealistic optimism. Keeping this in mind, the narrator decides to test out his grandfather's way of progressing through life, that is, "overcome them with yeses, undermine them with grins, I'd agree them to death and destruction" (508). The narrator now understands his invisibility and decides to finally play the "game", feigning optimism and positivity in order to eventually undermine the Brotherhood.

Innocence and Delusional Optimism in Invisible Man

Having read the first half of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, we observe several situations during which our unnamed narrator exhibits unrealistic optimism with respect to the events leading up to and during his college life, resulting in multiple instances where the narrator appears disillusioned at times astonished by the harsh reality of how these events unfold. This optimism stems in part from the narrator's overwhelming, genuine desire to succeed and make something out of his life, which initially enables the him to receive a scholarship to college, but later provides fuel for the unrealistic "perfect world" scenarios which he so often envisions his future will provide. This notion of the narrator's unrealistic optimism first manifests itself during the Battle Royal scene in the first few pages of the book. We quickly learn what kind of character our narrator is, as Ellison delves deep into the narrator's reactions and thought process in response to the situation he is placed in. He seems to largely take adversity at face value, not really understanding the deeper meaning behind the mockery and exclamations of those around him, but instead appearing innocent and oblivious despite his attempts to portray himself as genuine and professional. This notion of delusional optimism is furthered during the first scene in New York, as despite the narrator just recently having been abruptly kicked out of his beloved college, he immediately dreams of his prosperous future and almost takes his return for granted. While the narrator's enthusiasm and ardor in matters of educational prestige act as the driving forces that cause the narrator to work so fervently at first, it is an excess of these forces that causes the narrator's plans to backfire, as they induce a sense of excessive optimism and inevitable greatness in the narrator, causing him to appear oblivious to the cruelty of the world around him and only strengthening the shock he feels when he finally snaps out of his delusions.

We observe the narrator's initial obliviousness during one of the first scenes of the book with the Battle Royal. The narrator is led to believe that he will be performing a speech in front of a multitude of local prosperous men in order to receive a scholarship and is told that some ambiguous event called the "Battle Royal" will be taking place beforehand which he is designated to fight in. Upon entering the Battle Royal and observing the boys who he is supposed to fight with, as well as the polished appearances the of men, the narrator immediately jumps to distinguish himself from the rest of the crowd: "I didn't care too much for the other fellows who were to take part. [...] And besides, I suspected that fighting a battle royal might detract from the dignity of my speech. [...] I felt superior to them in my way, and I didn't like the manner in which we were all crowded together into the servant's elevator" (17-18). The narrator stresses to make his distinction from the rest of the boys as clear as possible to the reader in this scene, a distinction which the wealthy spectators don't necessarily see or even care about. He feels that he is not here to fight, like all the other boys are, but is instead there to make his speech. Despite this, we can observe the beginnings of the narrator's obliviousness in this scene. While the narrator is correct is his analysis that partaking in such an activity will likely degrade from his ensuing speech, he is so preoccupied with the logistics of performing the speech itself that he fails to stop and even think about why an event such as the Battle Royal is taking place before his speech. Instead of understanding inconsequential nature of his speech and realizing that he is essentially being subject to a form of entertainment, the narrator focuses on appearing different from the rest of the boys, and indulges in his fantasy of delivering a perfect, attention-holding speech.

While the Battle Royal scene itself shows a significant ignorance, with respect to the situation at hand, of the narrator, we can observe the shocking extent of the narrator's delusional optimism and impracticality in visualizing his future when the narrator first arrives in New York following his expulsion from the college. The narrator is quick to reset and lose himself in an unrealistic future, one that involves him returning to the college in an honorable way: "Then my old confidence and optimism revived, and I tried to plan my time in the North. I would work hard and serve my employer so well that he would shower Dr. Bledsoe with favorable reports. And I would save my money and return in the fall full of New York culture. I'd be indisputably the leading campus figure" (156-157). Despite the gravity of recent events that have occurred, due to his unwavering ardor and love for the college, he immediately takes for granted the fact that New York will change him, and he will make a triumphant return to the college. Bledsoe never exactly made it clear to the narrator that he had any intention of letting him return, and we can see later that this is exactly the case, but even so he assumes this fact and carries on with his fantasies. The fact that the narrator can shrug off such devastating news as expulsion so quickly and turn immediately to planning his return back to the very same college shows the extent to which his excessive enthusiasm and unrealistic optimism have deluded him, as he fails to realize that the chances of his return, after what occurred, are slim to none. Because of the narrator's failure in this respect, the blow that he receives when Emerson shows him Bledsoe's letter is made all the more powerful.

Bigger's Refusal to Acknowledge Reality and Denial of His Environment

Early on in Richard Wright's Native Son, we get the sense that Bigger Thomas is isolated and disconnected from the dilapidated black area of Chicago where he lives. This notion manifests itself in Bigger's actions and attitudes toward several of the obstacles his life presents him with, and extends not only to his dysfunctional family dynamic, but his daily interactions with his friends and approach on life in general. Bigger's embarrassed and almost disdainful view of his family is evident almost immediately in the first few pages of Book 1, as it is clear after the rat scene that Bigger isn't exactly thrilled with his current living conditions yet despises when his family prompts him to do something to change them. Since Bigger absolutely loathes the conditions which he is forced to live in, but lacks the determination to do something about it, he resorts to simply casting all thoughts about his living situation out of his head as much as possible, essentially engaging in a mild form of reality denial. This reality denial, or perhaps more accurately termed a "refusal to acknowledge", which on the outside appears as indifference and simply portrays Bigger as aloof, is really a result of Bigger's insecurities regarding his ignorance of the intricacies of the harsh racial dynamic in Chicago and the resulting housing situation it has produced for him specifically. This concept of Bigger's refusal of reality, in conjunction with the resulting fear induced in him when forced to actually confront and acknowledge this reality, will provide explanation for several of Bigger's future outbursts and rude behavior in Book 1, causing the confusion and frustration he experiences in the altercation with Jan and Mary, and ultimately shedding light on Bigger's seemingly rash and irrational act of murdering Mary.

The complex psychology and rationale of Bigger Thomas that leads to his murdering of a young girl stems crucially from his housing conditions and position in his society, that is, his environment. We are immediately thrown into the rat predicament on only the second page of the book, showing how common and abrupt situations like these are. Bigger confronts the situation with strong resolve and a collected head, something we will not see much more of in Bigger past this point in the novel. While Bigger succeeds, his mother still scolds him and nags him to rid the house of the rat and help his sister. Bigger responds by expressing dissent towards his family, and explains how he is able to progress through his life while having to endure such difficulties daily: "He shut their voices out of his mind. He hated his family because he knew that they were suffering and that he was powerless to help them. He knew that the moment he allowed what his life meant to enter fully into his consciousness, he would either kill himself or someone else. So he denied himself and acted tough" (10). Bigger states that he despises his family primarily because of the harsh environmental conditions which they all must live in, and feels insecure about his inability to do anything to help this. Despite the fact that we later learn that this isn't true, as Bigger can get the job at the Dalton's to directly support his family, it implies that he is insecure about that fact that he is powerless to improve his family's current economic standing. He feels that if he ever "allowed what his life meant to enter fully into his consciousness," that he would be pointlessly dwelling on an insecurity which he has no power to rid himself of. To cope with this, Bigger shuts himself off from and refuses to acknowledge the realities of his world to prevent any feelings of remorse from seeping in and sustain the integrity of his tough mental resolve.

Due to the self-protective nature of the figurative bubble that Bigger that built around him as a shield from his fears and outside factors which he has no influence over, Bigger expresses some extreme and varied reactions to several situations in which he is forcefully, though at times inadvertently, dragged out of his shield of reality denial. The two major instances of this occurring in the early parts of Book 1 are when Bigger lashes out and acts disparagingly towards Gus when planning Blum's robbery and, most importantly, when confronted with kindness by Jan and Mary. The importance of these two scenes, especially the latter, are that they show that Bigger's insecurities extend beyond simply his family's poor economic situation, but instead to his ignorance and therefore discomfort in nuanced interactions regarding race. Bigger has only known racism from powerful white people throughout his childhood in Chicago, and is ignorant about people like Jan, Mary, and other communists who don't see blacks as inferior in any way. Thus, when Jan and Mary act so carefree and and amicable towards Bigger in the chauffeur scene before they enter the restaurant, Bigger understandably expresses confusion and surprise internally: "He felt ensnared in a tangle of deep shadows, shadows as black as the night that stretched above his head. The was he had acted had made her cry, and yet the way she had acted had made him feel that he had to act as he had toward her" (72). We can observe in this scene the extreme confusion that Bigger experiences when confronted by Jan and Mary's excessive kindness as he states that he is essentially only acting how he thinks Mary, that is a privileged white person, would want him to act. Whenever Bigger does something that would normally please most of the privileged whites that Bigger has encountered throughout his life, Jan and Mary are more involving of Bigger, and try to incorporate him in their activities. Jan and Mary are fundamentally challenging the perception of the black and white racial dynamic of racism that has been imprinted into Bigger's mind ever since he was born, dragging Bigger out of his bubble by causing confusion and eventual frustration in him as he attempts to understand why these two privileged whites are acting so differently towards him. Naturally, Bigger doesn't immediately understand the reasoning behind Jan and Mary's kindness and instead fosters a feeling of distrust towards them, providing explanation for his constant thought that he "hates" Mary for simply being in a situation and talking, despite her good intentions for Bigger. Bigger feels that Mary is disadvantageous to have around and that she is borderline insane for interacting with him as lightly as she does. These notions of confusion, frustration, and distrust all come together in the a feeling of fear that is gradually growing inside of Bigger whenever he is around Mary, as she forces him to think critically about Chicago's racial dynamic as well as reevaluate his place in society. This fear finally manifests it in the culminating scene of Book 1, where out of panic and fear, resulting from perceived racial drawbacks, Bigger murders Mary, almost as if Mary's kindness and blindness while viewing race actually illustrated the degree of disparity between Mary's view and the conventional view of racism, inadvertently causing Bigger to be more scared than he would have been of being caught in a white girl's room at 2 in the morning.