Shadow and Act

by Ralph Ellison

With the same intellectual incisiveness and supple, stylish prose he brought to his classic novel Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison examines his antecedents and in so doing illuminates the literature, music, and culture of both black and white America.

His range is virtuosic, encompassing Mark Twain and Richard Wright, Mahalia Jackson and Charlie Parker, The Birth of a Nation and the Dante-esque landscape of Harlem—“the scene and symbol of the Negro’s perpetual alienation in the land of his birth.” Throughout, he gives us what amounts to an episodic autobiography that traces his formation as a writer as well as the genesis of Invisible Man.

On every page, Ellison reveals his idiosyncratic and often contrarian brilliance, his insistence on refuting both black and white stereotypes of what an African American writer should say or be. The result is a book that continues to instruct, delight, and occasionally outrage readers.

Genres: Essays, Nonfiction, African American, History, Race, Criticism, Classics

317 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1960

About the author

Ralph Ellison was a scholar and writer. He was born Ralph Waldo Ellison in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, named by his father after Ralph Waldo Emerson. Ellison was best known for his novel Invisible Man, which won the National Book Award in 1953. He also wrote Shadow and Act (1964), a collection of political, social and critical essays, and Going to the Territory (1986). For The New York Times , the best of these essays in addition to the novel put him "among the gods of America's literary Parnassus." A posthumous novel, Juneteenth, was published after being assembled from voluminous notes he left after his death.

Ellison died of Pancreatic Cancer on April 16, 1994. He was eighty-one years old.

Reviews

[B. P. Rinehart · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ellison's first collection of essays are nothing short of genius. This book really shows and gives a good look at the mind and ideas of the man who created the masterpiece Invisible Man.

This book was what I used to diversify my literary taste. I would not have discovered the likes of Twain, Joyce, Stephen Crane (who's The Red Badge of Courage I need to remember to review, a very good story), Will Faulkner, Herman Melville, and others. He also gives a very thorough account of Richard Wright and his work, who had mentored him and James Baldwin personally, when he came to New York. Incidentally this book caused me to stop reading Native Son in favor of Black Boy, which I will get to some day. It also chronicled a very good debate between him and Irving Howe, among many other things.

This book (and more importantly this author) is what I have to thank for shaping me up to be a serious reader and examiner of not just literature but culture and art overall.

[Julio The Fox · Rating 5 out of 5]

This sterling collection of essays and interviews reveal the man behind INVISIBLE MAN; the novel critic Alfred Kazin called "the greatest literary voyage through an existential wilderness" produced after World War II. (Ellison's own modest judgment: "I doubt that it will last.) We gain some insights into the composition of that masterpiece that are startling: "The character of Ras {the Black Nationalist} is not based on Marcus Garvey. I wrote that chapter after my wife and I were addressed in a most condescending manner by a white couple at a hotel we were staying at." Ellison also conjures up the ghost of the man who taught him the most about writing, Richard Wright: "You must sketch your characters as Dostoevsky did, Wright would tell me". Along the way are Ralph's meditations on jazz, "the only musical art form native to America and invented by the Negroes", along with not-so-nice swipes at more radical Black writers such as Leroi Jones: "BLUES PEOPLE might work if Jones knew how to impose some sort of structure on his essays in music." More jarring is his support for President Lyndon Johnson during the early days of the Viet Nam War, "out of gratitude for his civil rights legislation." A terrific way to spend an evening or two communicating with a great mind.

[Colin · Rating 5 out of 5]

An AMAZING collection of essays that articulates Ellison's dilemma for a negotiations of a sort of jazz-writing which: dances between his places as an Afro-American writer, with all the inherent social-political connotation towards which the burden of representation is placed ; also as a modernist (by way of Eliot), who creates a detached aesthetic from which an universal work can be created. I find these essays to be the perfect example of the tension between the political/poetic that is often faced by many writers of color.

[Barry · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maybe 3.5 stars.

This is a collection of essays by, and interviews with, Ralph Ellison from the mid 20th century discussing race, culture, and the arts. They range from literary reviews of Faulkner, Wright, and Crane, to film reviews, to discussion of Jazz artists such as Charlie Parker, Mahalia Jackson, Charlie Christian, and Jimmy Rushing. It’s easy to see how this book could have inspired similar collections of cultural critiques by James Baldwin (which I have to admit are generally more trenchant, provocative, and entertaining).

Apparently before he pivoted to writing, Ellison was planning for a career as a musician, so he had quite a bit of experience and insight in the realm of music in general, and jazz in particular.

Many of these essays are worthwhile. I imagine that they would have been even more powerful during the time they were written, but it seems—as is the case for many artistic geniuses—Ellison’s gifts may not have been fully appreciated during his own time.


I highlighted quite a bit of material in this book, but here are a few passages that are worth saving:

Re how creativity is more important than racial identity:
“For no group within the United States achieves anything without asserting its claims against the counterclaims of other groups.
“Thus as Americans we have accepted this conscious and ceaseless struggle as a condition of our freedom, and we are aware that each of our victories increases the area of freedom for all Americans, regardless of color. When we finally achieve the right of full participation in American life, what we make of it will depend upon our sense of cultural values, and our creative use of freedom, not upon our racial identification. I see no reason why the heritage of world culture—which represents a continuum—should be confused with the notion of race. […]”The demands of state policy are apt to be more influential than morality. I would like to see a qualified Negro as President of the United States. But I suspect that even if this were today possible, the necessities of the office would shape his actions far more than his racial identity.”
[p 271-2]


Re the portrayal of Black people in cinema:
“We are recalling all this not so much as a means of indicting Hollywood as by way of placing Intruder in the Dust, and such recent films as Home of the Brave, Lost Boundaries and Pinky, in perspective. To direct an attack upon Hollywood would indeed be to confuse portrayal with action, image with reality. In the beginning was not the shadow, but the act, and the province of Hollywood is not action, but illusion. Actually, the anti-Negro images of the films were (and are) acceptable because of the existence throughout the United States of an audience obsessed with an inner psychological need to view Negroes as less than men. Thus, psychologically and ethically, these negative images constitute justifications for all those acts, legal, emotional, economic and political, which we label Jim Crow. The anti-Negro image is thus a ritual object of which Hollywood is not the creator, but the manipulator. Its role has been that of justifying the widely held myth of Negro unhumanness and inferiority by offering entertaining rituals through which that myth could be reaffirmed.”
[p276]


Re how white America has used social science as an excuse to disenfranchise Black people:
“Since its inception, American social science has been closely bound with American Negro destiny. Even before the Civil War the Southern ruling class had inspired a pseudo-scientific literature attempting to prove the Negro inhuman and thus beyond any moral objections to human slavery. Sociology did not become closely concerned with the Negro, however, until after Emancipation gave the slaves the status—on paper at least—of nominal citizens. And if the end of the slave system created for this science the pragmatic problem of adjusting our society to include the new citizens, the compromise between the Northern and Southern ruling classes created the moral problem which Myrdal terms the American Dilemma.
“This was a period, the 1870s, wherein scientific method, with its supposed objectivity and neutrality to values, was thought to be the answer to all problems. There is no better example of the confusion and opportunism springing from this false assumption than the relation of American social science to the Negro problem. And let us make no easy distinctions here between Northern and Southern social scientists; both groups used their graphs, charts and other paraphernalia to prove the Negro's biological, psychological, intellectual and moral inferiority; one group to justify the South's exploitation of Negroes and the other to justify the North's refusal to do anything basic about it.
“Here was a science whose role, beneath its illusionary non-concern with values, was to reconcile the practical morality of American capitalism with the ideal morality of the American Creed.”
[p 305]

[Courtney Ferriter · Rating 4 out of 5]

** 4 stars **

This classic essay collection by Ralph Ellison is divided into three parts. The first part was 100% a 5-star read for me. Just pearls of wisdom in every essay, really. The second part is focused on music and musicians. It was fine, but I didn't get nearly as much out of it as the essays in Part I, so it was more like a 3-star read. The third section of the volume has some miscellaneous pieces, including two unpublished essays. This last section was in the middle for me, so around 4 stars. Thus, if I average all of those together, I arrive at the final rating of 4 stars for the collection as a whole. I highly encourage you to read it just for the essays in Part I, though. So many wonderful insights about democracy in the US and African American experience and art.

Here are just a few of those insights:
"[African Americans] have the obligation of freeing themselves--whoever their allies might be--by depending upon the validity of their own experience for an accurate picture of the reality which they would seek to change, and for a gauge of the values they would see made manifest." - from "The World and the Jug""

"When American life is most American, it is apt to be most theatrical." - from "Change the Joke and Slip the Yoke"

"And isn't one of the implicit functions of the American frontier to encourage the individual to a kind of dreamy wakefulness, a state in which he makes-in all ignorance of the accepted limitations of the possible-rash efforts, quixotic gestures, hopeful testings of the complexity of the known and the given?" - from the introduction

[Ben Siems · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read several of the essays in this collection for a college course some years ago, but recently decided to embark on the journey of reading the book cover to cover. Most know Ralph Ellison as the author of Invisible Man, that influential masterpiece of mid-twentieth century American fiction (a review of which can be found among my books). Like Harper Lee, Ellison never produced a second novel, though unlike Lee, he spent more than forty years attempting to do so. Few know of Ellison's other writings, however, representing his work as a literary and social critic, and an essayist on a diversity of topics surrounding the role of race in U.S. culture.

This collection of Ellison's writings spanning a historical era from World War II to the Vietnam War offers a fascinating journey through the mind of a remarkably curious, well-read, diversely skilled, and thoughtful man — in my mind, one of the great thinkers of the 20th century. I do not always agree with his theses (nor, it may fairly be said, does he; in the span of twenty years one's views will inevitably change), but I never cease to find in his arguments food for thought of the most nourishing sort. 'Aha moments' may be found here in abundance. Through the course of it all, what emerges is an oblique but three-dimensional portrait of a pivotal period of U.S. history, and one man's determined, courageous, and at times humorous journey through it. I recommend it highly to anyone who longs to see below the surface of American, and human, life.

Of particular interest are the many references made in this book to Richard Wright. Generally regarded as two of the first three African American writers to produce world-class novels (the third being James Baldwin), Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison would spend their lives being mentioned together and publicly compared. Shadow and Act provides tremendous insight into the (at times strained) friendship and rivalry of these two great artists. I am struck by a deep irony regarding their art and their lives. In Native Son (also to be found among my books), Wright writes in a brutally naturalistic style, indicative of his deep belief that people are very much a product of their environment. Indeed, he often said that he did not create Bigger Thomas; white American society did. In contrast, Ellison believed fervently in every human being's innate ability to rise above even the most horrifically oppressive circumstances and become whatever he or she wishes to be. Invisible Man was, above all, an expression of that belief.

Here, then, is the irony: Wright lived a life that was dramatically different from any one might have anticipated based on the circumstances of his childhood. He rebelled fiercely against his own background throughout his entire life, and was living proof of how much power an individual has to define himself or herself. Meanwhile, the course of Ellison's life was very much in line with his experience of the world as a child, even down to his middle name, Waldo, which was given to him by his father in the hope that Ralph would grow up to be a writer.

It seems as though this irony was never fully appreciated by either man. Self-awareness truly is elusive, even for geniuses.

[Cara Byrne · Rating 4 out of 5]

This collection of critical reviews, interviews, transcripts of speeches, and essays captures Ellison's poetic voice and musical background just as well as that found in his fiction. Organized in 3 sections by theme ("The Seer and the Seen," "Sound and the Mainstream," and "The Shadow and the Act"), Ellison is consistent in his opinions about art, life, and the complex identity of the "Negro American." The most interesting essays for me include "The Way It Is," "Hidden Name and Complex Fate," "The World and the Jug," and "Twentieth-Century Fiction and the Black Mask of Humanity." In 1958, Ellison wrote: “I would like to see a qualified Negro as President of the United States. But I suspect that even if this were today possible, the necessities of the office would shape his actions far more than his racial identity” (272). Fifty years later, Obama became president and it would be interesting to think about his presidency through this quotation. I can't help but notice, too, that even in 1958, Ellison could only imagine a male Black president, which captures some of the frustration held by Black feminist/womanist writers. Other key quotes:

“The act of writing requires a constant plunging back into the shadow of the past where time hovers ghostlike” (xix).

“It is not skin color which makes a Negro American but cultural heritage as shaped by the American experience, the social and political predicament; a sharing of that ‘concord of sensibilities’ which the group expresses through historical circumstance and through which it has come to constitute a subdivision which the group expresses through historical circumstance and through which it has come to constitute a subdivision of the larger American culture. Being a Negro American has to do with the memory of slavery and the hope of emancipaton and the betrayal by allies and the revenge and contempt inflicted by our former masters after the Reconstruction, and the myths, both Northern and Southern, which are propagated in justification of that betrayal” (131).

“Archetypes are timeless, novels are time-haunted. Novels achieve timelessness through time. If the symbols appearing in a novel link up with those of universal myth they do so by virtue of their emergence from the specific texture of a specific form of social reality” (57).

[Shaimaa Suleiman · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the greatest books I have ever read. Ellison's critical prowess amounts to that of Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot.


UPDATE: Eliot is in the air.

Turns out the title is an allusion to "The Hollow Men". I read this poem long before reading the book but only recognized the the unmistakable link today with a second reading.

"Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow" -- T.S. Eliot.

[Nancy · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book is not worth the hours I need to read 838 pages.
Mr. Ellison wrote a wonderful novel Invisible Man and based on that book
I attempted to read his essays.
Weak point: My main problem with Mr. Ellison’s essays
is the flowery baroque writing style.
Some people mistake flowery baroque writing for good writing.
Unfortunately....I do not.
I would rather read a well organized essay...that actually makes a point.
Mr. Ellison rambles on and on....
I read 40% of the book.
Life is too short and I have many other books to read.

[Eleanor]

Ellison’s novel Invisible Man (1952) made a huge impression on me last year, but it’s the only fiction he ever completed; his second novel, Juneteenth, was a compositional disaster, and was only recently published in unfinished form. Shadow and Act is an essay collection. Ellison’s chops are as obvious as ever – he writes with fantastic assurance and clarity – but I found some of these essays unsatisfying, particularly the ones about literature and race. I don’t disagree with his points, but his writing on jazz, by contrast, feels fresher and less involuted.

[Greg Fanoe · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked the concepts and love Ellison as a writer, but the essays here were just way too repetitive.

[Jonathan Blanks · Rating 5 out of 5]

Every once in awhile you come across a book you've never heard of by a writer you admire. Sometimes it's a great find, other times you realize there may have been a reason why you'd never heard of the book. Shadow and Act is a gem of the former variety. It is a wondeful collection of essays on culture, music, and history.

Too many of today's critics scrimp on insight and indulge in invective. Yes, we all like a good takedown of a bad book or argument, but critics should provide more context and knowledge than simply showing off their own vocabulary to skewer someone for the sake of spectacle. Ellison's deep knowledge of music and the dynamics at play in American society made me understand so much about our country in the early to mid-twentieth century. But he was also unsparing in his judgment, even of writers whom he most admires. The failure of Ernest Hemingway to deal with the nation's most important cultural conflict--race--becomes a broader indictment of almost all (white) American literature of the period.

For writers he did not particularly admire or respect, Ellison's words were withering. His review of LeRoi Jones's Blues People is so vicious one may wonder whether it played a role in Jones's decision to change his name.

The book also reveals some interesting autobiographical elements present in Invisible Man, which I would suggest you read before Shadow and Act.

[Jake Berlin · Rating 2 out of 5]

the middle section, about music, and primarily jazz, is wonderful, and absolutely worth reading. and ellison is unquestionably a top-notch wordsmith, and a deep thinker. but more than half of the chapters feel like the same ideas recycled over and over, and while they're certainly important -- as statements about race and america, and for when they were written -- after the first few it becomes a bit tiresome.

[Maciek · Rating 5 out of 5]

An insight into the mind of the author of Invisible Man. Ellison is, as always, fascinating. Recommended for anyone who would like to learn more about the man himself, and his opinions about fiction, music and life.

[Jamall Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent. Just excellent. I am both highly critical and extremely grateful of this collection of essays. I'm so glad I read this. Just excellent.

[Ben | The Immersion Library · Rating 5 out of 5]

💫Immerse Yourself in Shadow and Act💫
🎶Listen | Dark Noir Jazz | Late Night Reading

The way home we seek is that condition of man’s being at home in the world, which is called love, and which we term democracy. Our task then is always to challenge the apparent forms of reality – that is, the fixed manners and values of the few – and to struggle with it until it reveals its mad, vari-implicated chaos, its false faces, and on until it surrenders its insight, its truth.

In these essays, Ellison wrestles with critics, interviewers, and his own experience in an effort to find meaning in a multi-faceted existence as a black man in America. Because of the astounding level of intellect in his arguments, his refreshingly clear perspective – seemingly unassailable by the manufactured poisons designed to help us ignore rational thought, I find myself frustrated as it all leads to a single, simple conclusion: all people are human. All people have unique experiences influenced by the world around them. The hypocrisy of the American Creed and the engineered stigma of blackness in America influenced Ellison’s experience. Unfortunately, it requires Ellison’s level of excellence to state this fact and, more embarrassingly, for people to believe him.

He ruthlessly defends this assertion against anyone who might inadvertently subvert the truth; those who would practice outright bigotry and an irrational perspective – victims of that manufactured poison – or even so-called allies who reduce the human to a social science, or a literary device, or in any way an “thing”. The black person experiences America as a divorcee from their heritage and confused by an existence where their countrymen praise and pledge allegiance to an ideology that they contradict in practice. As all Americans do, they yearn to forge their own identity rather than imbibe the one that others would press upon them through media, politics, or social structure.

There are, as always, political and economic motives for this rending of values, but in terms of the ethical and psychological, what was opportunistically labeled the ‘Negro problem’ is actually a guilt problem charged with pain. Just how painful might be judged from teh ceaseless effort expended to dull its throbbings with the anesthesia of legend, myth, hypnotic ritual and narcotic modes of thinking. And not only have our popular culture, our newspapers, radio and cinema been devoted to justifying the Negro’s condition and the conflict created thereby, but even our social sciences and serious literature have been conscripted – all in the effort to drown out the persistent voice of outraged conscience.

It saddens me to think that Ellison spent so much time defending his perspective rather than living it – that others constructed his reputation as a black man with things to say about the “Negro problem”. His words about art and literature transcend similar criticism with which I am familiar. He saw himself as an artist – first through music and accidentally and thankfully through literature. The fact that his art expresses the experience of black men is incidental as Ellison was a black man. He exerted his perspective on life in the same way any artist would. But because we have an “American problem” – not a “Negro problem” – he was relegated to defending that experience, like a sacrifice on the altar of American political pontificating.

However, Ellison believed deeply in American democracy. And I think he hated to see it misappropriated. Manipulated and abused. A slander in the mouths of many of her citizens. Any true patriot would see this hypocrisy as a threat to American ideals; any “solve” that would stem from the irrational, that refuses to see that the execution of the American ideal strays far and wide from the identity of it, is patronizing, exhausting, and dehumanizing.

Because it is his life and no mere abstraction in someone’s head. He must live it and try consciously to grasp its complexity until he can change it; must live it as he changes it. He is no mere product of his socio-political predicament. He is a product of the interaction between his racial predicament, his individual will, and the broader American cultural freedom in which he finds his ambiguous existence. Thus he, too, in a limited way, is his own creation.

Ellison’s works are not only important to black life, but to American life. In a world where we can only see Invisible Man as an emblem of the black experience, we fail to see that he is an artistic expression of a particular human experience in a country in which much stigma has been branded to his skin color. A pity that Ellison expended so much effort in explaining this to people.

[andré crombie · Rating 5 out of 5]

“…in the United States the Negro and his status have always stood for…moral concern. He symbolizes among other things the human and social possibility of equality. This is the moral question raised in our two great nineteenth-century novels, Moby-Dick and Huckleberry Finn. The very center of Twain’s book revolves finally around the boy’s relations with Nigger Jim and the question of what Huck should do about getting Jim free after the two scoundrels have sold him. There is a magic here worth conjuring, and that reaches to the very nerve of the American consciousness…. Looking at the novelist as manipulator and depictor of moral problems, I ask myself how much of the achievement of democratic ideals in the United States has been affected by the steady pressure of Negroes and those whites who were sensitive to the implications of our condition, and I know that without that pressure the position of our country before the world would be much more serious even than it is now…since the nineteenth century American literature has avoided profound moral searching. It was too painful, and besides, there were specific problems of language and form to which the writers could address themselves. They did wonderful things, but perhaps they left the real problems untouched.”

Notes: One of the great collections of nonfiction in American letters. Great on identity, jazz (its origins, the Oklahoma City scene, as dance music), Twain (my god, he is good on Twain), American language (especially the importance of idiom, and specifically black idiom), food (it isn’t in this book but his letters where he rages about being unable to find pigs’ feet in Rome, but I think Ellison is wonderful on food always), and integration; indeed, I can think of no other writer or thinker who so thoroughly imagines, articulates, and celebrates (in all of its complexities) what integration would actually entail, an important and overlooked contribution to the Freedom Movement.

[Abby]

I am really here because I wanted to read about music, but not averse at all to reading some book reviews along the way. Ellison strikes me as a tad stuffy, both in the way he constructs his sentences and in the way he sometimes has trouble remembering women exist—certainly he never imagined any would be reading his articles. But two sentences later he will demonstrate beyond a doubt a clearer understanding of U.S. postwar culture than anyone else dared to articulate. I am often dubious of his take on aesthetics and their relationship to politics or sociology, but there is so much here that Ellison was, if not the first, at least among the first to articulate. And in his particular wheelhouse, he really just wants us to write better books.

I have been guilty of the fallacy of assuming most people who lived in the past, in particular cultural and historical situations, had trouble seeing the real scope of their actions and the meanings of their relations. And while yes, it is hard and most of us are short-sighted, that is a complete fallacy. People knew slavery was not a normal or excusable institution, and they saw through the fog of post-Reconstruction bullshit in the cultural atmosphere. Though Ellison had to work very hard for most of his life to see through that fog, on the page he is incisive and clear. He never lost sight of the goal, “a more human way of life.”

[Madeline · Rating 5 out of 5]

Shadow and Act is dozens of essays from all prompts and sources— random in certain essays’ specificity but cohesive in clear logic and clear principles. I was struck by sections of great wisdom and great writing in essays of all different topics, from Huckleberry Finn to multiple pieces on different blues artists to visit arguments with Irving Howe via published back-and-forths. I learned about the specific topics and about philosophical truths (if that’s what you’d call deep, big thoughts that connect to the marrow of the wider human experience). It reminds me of Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist, which began my long love affair with Gay—this will start my love affair with Ellison. And he’s an Oklahoman! Our very best.
because it’s from the 1940s-60s, it was a little hard to read— just dense, and I was slow because I’m not used to it. I liked some esses more than others. “Change the Joke and Slip the Yoke” stands out in my memory, partially because I’ve gotten that far working back through my notes in the margins. There’s so many good essays and parts of essays throughout.
Next up: Invisible Man!

[Prooost Davis · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the pleasures of reading is the possibility of encountering great minds. The essays in Shadow and Act reveal Ralph Ellison as a scholar whose knowledge was both broad and deep. He wrote, of course, one of the great novels of the Twentieth Century, Invisible Man, but he was unable to finish a second novel, which has been published only in part. Two essay collections, this one and Going to the Territory, are pretty much all we have.

As an artist, he considered his main influences to be Mark Twain, Stephen Crane, and Ernest Hemingway. He also admired William Faulkner. In his youth, he aspired to be a musician, playing trumpet. But, as time passed, he found the act of writing to be compelling, and dropped his musical ambitions.

His essays here include several on jazz, but mostly they are discussions of other aspects of American life and culture, race relations, and the often unrecognized contributions of Negroes in the making of American culture.

[Samantha Shain · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this as part of a larger collected edition of Ellison's essays. I tremendously appreciated his candor and his nuance - I can only imagine that it was just as difficult then as it is now to complicate the reductive mainstream ideas about race and American culture. I found the book uneven in quality. Some essays, like "Living with Music" were instant favorites. Others felt dull or repetitive - perhaps they would have been more exciting if first encountered in a periodical, however when put in dialogue with other essays making a similar point, some of the magic was lost. The book was loosely organized into three sections: one on literacy criticism, one on jazz, and the third on cultural criticism. In general, I recommend for anyone interested in reading not the "same old, same old" about race and anyone who enjoys a scholarly voice.

[seth]

I finished the section on music, intro, and 2 interviews—some of the essays were re reads. He is lowkey so annoying I can’t go on. I wish I could—and I know I will…but damn this man is so conservative in a kind of menacing way!!!!! He does this thing where he has to extract all the “civilized” and “legible” rhyme and reason for a black happening in service of creating a binary between “civilized critique” and “obsession w race”. And to him any embrace of a black critique is chauvinistic. I wish he was more convincing in his arguments, genuinely. But to me— a lot of his claims simply don’t hold up. Like this nigga would crumble at the thought of veeze and insist that the greatest black sensibility is the 1930 Kansas City swing band and consider veeze an abomination.

[1.1 · Rating 4 out of 5]

A solid collection of essays about art, culture, race, and society. Some pieces are definitely more must-read than others, but all taken together help one form a better picture of Ellison. There's autobiographical flourishes and insights I doubt would be as accessible in another book. For instance, I got the sense that he didn't love his first name, despite its namesake. There's also discussion of how jazz was commercialized (o, cycles of time!) and a plethora of other issues, writers, times, places, Hi-Fi sets and radios, even how it was in Oklahoma before the destruction of Black Wall Street.

[Kit Longden · Rating 5 out of 5]

In many places I had to stop and enjoy that which he articulates clearly and is rarely heard. Really glad I read it, and it made me want to read Invisible Man and Juneteenth straight away, with a head framed with his take. That said, over the first 90 pages, I began to be really hungry for mentions of women or female perspectives. Amazing how much of what he discusses is totally relevant today. I also really enjoyed the material on growing up as a kid in the Southwest jazz scene at the start, and the very touching interview with a mother who lost a son in the war towards the end.

[Brandon · Rating 3 out of 5]

A collection of essays from Ralph Ellison. Unless you're into pre-50's music, particularly Jazz, Blues, etc, you can skip the middle section. The bookends, which in fact comprise most of the pages here, are generally solid. The first section, 'The Seer and The Seen', is a stretch of writing that all this time later still lands punch after punch. Ellison has an eye and pen for sharp examination and criticism of American cultural artifacts and the American culture from which they permeated.

For a class reading, 3 stars is mighty fine.

[Mike · Rating 4 out of 5]

The essay collections I enjoy most build a coherent theory or perspective by means of fragments, however occasional; this certainly meets that criterion. I had read most of the literary essays over the years but was impressed by the introduction and some of the quasi-Marxist work he did during WWII. The jazz writing is fascinating as an aesthetic theory that suggests a bridging of modernism and postmodernism, though I’m almost entirely unfamiliar with the music itself.

[KN · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sequenced perfectly; got a good idea of the thoughts that came from Ellison's faultless desire to consider a critical stance of the books he read/films he watched/music he heard (I especially liked the first two, particularly the Twain v. Faulkner v. Hemingway sections + the portrayal of black humanity in film). I liked the ideas of "masks" + the physical vs. intellectual energies of expression... gotta give Invisible Man another go

[Lisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

A collection of essays and interviews with Ralph Ellison. I’m not that interested in his life or intellectual work, so I found them ranging from somewhat interesting to mostly useless (for me)—see section II, his essays on jazz musicians.

[Jordan Abbott · Rating 4 out of 5]

dense, uneven and at times dated, but there’s no doubting Ellison’s brilliance. some of the most perceptive lit criticism and social commentary I’ve read in a while

[Wilson Hawk · Rating 4 out of 5]

Like a lot of collections of criticism from this period, it's all very interesting and cogent until he starts talking about jazz.