The "Extras" of /Invisible Man/

For a novel whose entire plot revolves around the idea that "we wear the mask," that nobody truly sees anyone other than themselves, we sure see a lot of one-dimensional characters that serve one symbolic purpose and leave. To an extent, you can't have a book with one personality and one overly complex plotline-- you have to have simpler plots thrown in. I chose to discuss a few black characters (although there are plenty of quirky, one-off white characters too: think Emerson Jr., Norton, or Sybil) Do we see further into these characters' lives with their stories, or just see further proof of how invisible they really are, even to our invisibility-conscious narrator?

 The first is Trueblood. What was up with that?? Yes, he was an example of a bad guy to show to Norton. But why did he get 15 pages to himself to tell a seemingly non-sequitur, kind of squicky story when a more concise example could have sufficed? Perhaps the answer is that it anything shorter couldn't have sufficed, and his long story was a testament to just how badly the narrator screwed up (plus possibly a reason for Norton to be so lightheaded, furthering the plot.) A question nobody asks: Is Trueblood invisible? It's complicated. He occasionally sings at the college, where he is widely disliked for his racial self-caricature. The college hotshots know of the people in the slums ironically next to the college, but choose to be blind to them (and keep the donors blind to them as well.)

Rather than talk about the Vet (who gets plenty of screen-time in critical review) I'll discuss the more one-dimensional characters in the bar scene-- Supercargo, Halley, and Edna. To recap: Supercargo is the big bodyguard-type guy who gets shoved down in defiance of white control over them: "He's the white folks' man!" (84). Halley (and Barrelhouse, in a later scene on p. 489 [and maybe earlier-- can anyone find it?]) is the stereotypical peacekeeping barkeep who just wants everyone to settle down and spend their money on beer instead of fighting. Edna is one of the only named girls at the Golden Day, who calls Norton a "little white baby" and who "ain't never been to no Chicago" (87, 88). They each play a role in that scene; a good barfight would be incomplete without rousing characters on both sides. But the narrator never seems to think critically about their personalities, and never convinces us to do so either. This is, to be fair, early in his ideological shift, when he isn't thinking about invisibility himself.

The last "character as simple symbol" I'll talk about is Brother Clifton. There's no explanation, no understanding of the turmoil that sent him into selling Sambo dolls. He is the trendy youth pastor of Harlem until the narrator leaves and he goes off the deep end. The conclusion to be drawn is that the narrator was the only thing keeping Harlem together, and Clifton is justified to be used as a rallying cry. But he remains one-dimensional and unexplained, even as the narrator is understanding invisibility himself. Really, for all his introspection the narrator never even attempts to delve into the minds of other people. I suppose that's not the point of the book.

Can you think of more characters that have more personality than screen time? Maybe Emma, or Westrum, or the evicted couple (who clearly have a full life which is used by the narrator as a general symbol), or the white guy who drunkenly sings gospel, or the woman who apologizes for him later. There are plenty in the book, all deserving their own explication. What individual and group effect do all these side characters have on the evolution of the narrator?

Bonus not-quite-worth-a-blog-post idea: Isn't it weird that the narrator gets electrocuted twice in his life, both times after significant injury? It seems like a parallel but I don't know of what.