In Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, Rinehart can be seen not only as a a distortion of reality but also reality itself. His multiple identities provides for others their own realities in relation to his personas, and his many classifications act as a mask for him as he's able to portray himself as multiple people. The narrator struggles with this man's life due to his inability to realize the importance of self.When looking at the name "Rinehart," the narrator establishes two different parts of the man: rind and heart. The rind is defined as the outer layer or skin of something, whereas the heart represents an inner existence. As the narrator refers to Rinehart as "both rind and heart" (498), he contemplates the ability of man to take on so many different identities on the outside while still remaining one true identity on the inside. He relates back to the words of the veteran when he notes that Rinehart regards his world as possibility, repeating word-for-word the veteran's advice to him that "the world is possibility if only [he'll] discover it" (156). In this case, the veteran is emphasizing the discovery of this world or possibility with the reliance on the self to discover it, encouraging the narrator to write his own history rather than have others write it for him.
Rinehart is a runner, a gambler, a briber, a lover, and a Reverend in the novel. Although his identities to others appear as a mask to them, hiding the others and displaying only one at a certain time, he still remains true to himself in that his life is one of multiple identities. He chooses to use these identities out of his own mind, whereas the narrator is forced to take on names pushed onto him out of his free will.
To the men at the Battle Royal, Norton, and Mary, he's to play the part of the "destiny of [his] people" (32). The attendees of the Battle Royal conclude that the narrator will some day "lead his people i the proper paths" (32), pushing onto him the responsibility for the whole race. According to Norton, he is dependent upon the narrator to "learn [his] fate" (45), which the narrator finds bewildering as the trustee doesn't even know the narrator's name. His disregard for the narrator's identity in place of the identity he places on him shows that the narrator is not in charge of his own being. Mary also extends this leadership role onto the narrator, telling him that he has to lead and fight "and move us all on up a little higher" (255), telling him this even before she learns his name.
For Bledsoe, Kimbro, and Brother Jack, the narrator's identity is unnecessary as his only role will be to be used as a resource of sorts. Bledsoe tells the narrator that he doesn't exist, that he's "nobody" (143). This insistence on the narrator's lack of identity is held when Kimbro instructs him to obey everything he says, leading the narrator to believe that he "wasn't supposed to think" (200). This loss of thinking for one's self displays a plunge out of history in that the narrator loses control of his own history, given more pressure when Brother Jack gives him his new identity. Brother Jack informs the narrator that he is "to answer to no other" (309), encouraging him to forcibly reject his old identity in place of this new one given to him by the Brotherhood.
Throughout the novel., the narrator is unable to discover himself; he states what he "would be no one except [himself]--whoever [he] was" (311). This inability of his to realize his true identity hinders him from reaching a true freedom, from being his own father, as the veteran had advised of him. Although he realizes that "[he'll] be free" (243) once he discovers who he is, his identity is only constructed by the individuals and groups he encounters.
I enjoyed reading this post Connie! You offer some interesting perspective on Rhinehart, a character both influential and enigmatic.
ReplyDeleteI view Rhinehart as the narrator's gauge of what society has come to in terms of morality. The narrator says on page 503, "What was integrity? What did it have to with a world in which Rhinehart was possible and successful?" It is evident that the narrator is disturbed by the ease with which one can disguise oneself, or in other words, "make oneself invisible." The narrator expresses this concern on page 493 - "If dark glasses and a white hat could blot out my identity so quickly, who actually was who?” In fact, this attitude of his surprises me to a certain extent. He’s so used to being invisible, to changing identities at everyone’s beck and call, to forgetting is past and starting over – why does this concept confound him now? People never mistook the narrator for his old self after he changed names for the Brotherhood, and he kept his facial feature intact. By those rules, the exchange with Rhinehart should have been textbook, but the fact that they aren’t suggest that the narrator is unaware/oblivious this entire time. He doesn’t know how much he’s messed with and ignored the idea of identity, and this episode with Rhinehart has forced him to explicitly view it.
Rhinehart, then, is simply a foil to the narrator’s character. He is one physical being with multiple identities, and his moment-to-moment existence depends on the eye of the beholder. Like you said Connie, to a girl, he is “Rhinehart the lover,” to church-goers, he is “Rhinehart the Reverend,” and everything in between. Rhinehart himself is nobody – he is who every individual WANTS him to be, which is exactly the same case as the narrator. Norton wanted the narrator to be his destiny, and so he was. Bledsoe wanted him to feel he was a failure, and so he became one. Brother Jack wanted him to be a machine, and for a while, he was one. If all of this is true then, could we argue that both Rhinehart and the narrator depict society’s desires and, perhaps, insecurities? The psychology concept of projection explains this phenomenon exactly, where individuals, to defend their own self-esteem and worth, project their own shortcomings onto others. A gambler likely knows, deep down, that he is upholding a serious, negative addiction, and so he wants to see the same failure in others. A prostitute wants to see a lover, and sinner wants to see a reverend.
I guess, then, it was never about the narrator or Rhinehart. It has always been about the eyes that see them. No wonder the motif of “eyes” consumes this entire novel. Certainly blindness and impersonality play a role in it, but vision as a means of self-fulfillment is, in my opinion, the biggest feature of the eyes. They are selfish, and this reverberates in Bledsoe’s ego, Brother Jack’s jealousy when the narrator rises in fame, and Norton’s insistence that everybody around him serves simply the purpose of “being his destiny.” I think I may have just found my project idea!