I have never read Ralph Ellison’s novel “Invisible Man,” but I’ve known that I should. If one is interested in expanding one’s level of awareness, (as I am), or if one is interested in broadening one’s horizons and familiarizing oneself with great works of literature, (as, again, sometimes I am), then one should read seminal works such as “Invisible Man.”

I checked it out of the library today. I started reading the introduction over lunch. And now I am very nervous. Because I can barely understand a goddamn thing I’ve read so far. If the novel itself is written in the same style as this introduction, I might as well read it in Italian: I wouldn’t understand the intent of Mr. Ellison’s words any less, but I might actually learn how to read a little Italian.

Ralph Ellison is much smarter than me. His intelligence jumps off the page with every convoluted sentence I read. I can tell that he is saying something important. I can tell that he is describing how it came about that “Invisible Man,” (arguably one of the greatest novels ever written), was created. But I cannot, for the life of me, be sure of what he is saying. Take this tiny excerpt:

And all the more so because the voice seemed well aware that a piece of science fiction was the last thing I aspired to write. In fact, it seemed to tease me with allusions to that pseudoscientific sociological concept which held that most Afro-American difficulties sprang from our “high visibility”; a phrase as double-dealing and insidious as its more recent oxymoronic cousins, “benign neglect” and “reverse discrimination,” both of which translate “Keep those Negroes running-but in their same old place.” My friends had made wry jokes out of the term for many years, suggesting that while the darker brother was clearly “checked and balanced”-and kept far more checked than balanced-on the basis of his darkness he glowed, nevertheless, within the American conscience with such intensity that most whites feigned moral blindness toward his predicament; and these included the waves of late arrivals who refused to recognize the vast extent to which they too benefited from his second-class status while placing all the blame on white southerners.

Umm. What?

(For those that are unaware, since Mr. Ellison was discussing race, (was he?), in the above paragraph, he was a black author, born in the first half of the 20th century, who died in 1994. “Invisible Man” is hailed as a masterpiece novel that tells “unparalleled truths about the nature of bigotry.” I was looking forward to reading it before I started reading it.)

Trying to understand Mr. Ellison’s meaning has really got me thinking about the larger subjects of thinking and communicating, and how the art of writing enhances both of those things.

I’m about to tell you something that I bet you didn’t even know, so pay close attention:

Most of us are born with brains. Actual brains! Nestled comfortably within our soft, newborn skulls, yearning to be filled with knowledge and information. (Despite all evidence to the contrary, our brains are not located in either our penises or our  butts. Nope. They are in our heads, balanced delicately upon our necks. I’m happy to have cleared that up for you.)

One of the questions I wrestle with, as the simple layperson I am, is what limits are imposed on our intelligence? As we grow older, are we capable of growing smarter? Can a person develop critical thinking skills or, like the ability to curl your tongue, are they something you’re born with? Is your brain as capable of being smart on the day of your birth as it is going to be your entire life, or can you train yourself to become smarter?

(I realize that is actually four questions. Which basically ask the same thing. So, it’s just the one question.)

The reason I frequently wonder about intelligence is because every time I turn around I find myself face-to-face with another stupid person. It used to be funny, talking to a complete idiot who, in all other respects, appeared to be a functioning adult, but upon closer inspection it’s revealed that they are miraculously walking, talking, breathing & laughing despite the fact that their brain is completely detached from their central nervous system. (“I just met a woman who didn’t know the phone number to call 9-1-1!”) But then, like a massive walker herd over the horizon in “The Walking Dead” attracted to the sound of a single gunshot, I feel swamped by morons who must have been attracted to the sound of my derisive laughter. Suddenly the joke’s on me. I can’t get away from them and I don’t have nearly enough ammunition to fend them all off.

(For those of you who thought I was exploring the topic of intelligence because I was nobly motivated by the pure and unimpeachable pursuit of philosophical knowledge simply for knowledge’s sake, nope. I am just sick of stupid people. This makes me not a nice person. I realize this.)

Will reading Ralph Ellison’s ponderous train of thought make me more intelligent? If I can get through his prose and somehow make sense of it all will, in the end, my brain be “better” for it?

Let’s say you’re trying to educate yourself. I know, I know, based on the number of stupid people I meet or speak with on a daily basis, there is a good chance that none of you are actually trying to do this. But, for the sake of argument, let’s just say that you are. Give me some hope. Throw me a bone. At least one intellectually curious person has to exist–I’ll just pretend I’m lucky enough to have you stumble across my blog.

What is it that makes you smarter? Is it being introduced to new ideas or strains of thought that literally had never occurred to you before? Or is it deciphering multisyllabic, dense sentences and translating them down to your ingrained level of understanding? Or does simply going out and interacting with new people strengthen your brain?

Okay. I’m just going to throw that last question out. While there certainly has to be huge benefits to socializing and interacting with people, as anyone who has spent more than three minutes in a Wal-Mart on payday will tell you, it doesn’t, as a general rule, make you smarter. Or a Starbucks. I am not trying to trash poor people here. Hell, I’M POOR PEOPLE. My gripe is with stupid people. And, believe me, stupid people in a Starbucks are even harder to deal with sometimes than the ones at Wal-Mart because you have that hot coffee in your hand just itching to be thrown in their faces.

Because here is what I think. I think getting new ideas in your head is what’s important.

Well, let me back up. In order to get smarter, a person has to be willing to admit her views are wrong if confronted with overwhelming evidence to the contrary. If a person refuses to adapt her views despite completely rational, logical, valid evidence that completely refutes what she currently believes, then that is a person who is incapable of recognizing new ideas. That and she is incapable of completing her term as governor of Alaska.

Pow! Take that, Sarah Palin! *relevant!*

So, clearly, there are too many millions of us incapable of changing our views on any given subject. Why is that, I wonder? Are those people stupid? Is that what stupidity is, the inability to alter an opinion? Or is it simply a matter of sensory overload? You know, when I want a milkshake, I am not eager to get one from a place that has sixty different kinds. There are too many choices. They overwhelm me and my brain shuts down. Which is why, in my lifetime, I’ve only tried four flavors of shakes: peach, strawberry, chocolate peanut butter and Shamrock.

I’m kidding about how many flavors I’ve tried, of course, but I am quite serious about the immobilizing sense of overwhelm(edness?) that comes over me when I’m confronted with too many choices. And maybe, in this high-tech world of instant access to all human knowledge, that is why many people are incapable of accepting new ideas. There are just too many of them?

Of course, I personally think that is a bullshit excuse, but it certainly seems like a viable one.

After all, it’s possible that my brain is simply wired differently than most other peoples, and it has been since birth. I’m curious about history and philosophy and a variety of social sciences, but maybe I was just born with it. (Or maybe it’s Maybelline. I don’t know. It could be.) Maybe this desire I have to constantly know more and more about the human condition is nothing that I’ve developed, per se. Maybe I am no more in control of my curiosity than squirrels are in control of their desire to collect nuts in August.

I mean, let’s be clear here: I’m no fucking brainiac. At best–at BEST!–I’m what is derisively known as a “bookworm” or a “dilettante,” although dilettante is way too fancy a word to describe someone like me. It sounds too much like the word “debutante,” which is something young wealthy virgin women are called and I have neither money nor virginity, thank you very much. A bookworm is someone who reads a lot of books but is not an intellectual. And that is an apt description of me. I do not use my brain for any grand purpose.

When I think of smart people, I think of those people who give TED Talks and, I’ll be honest with you, I grew bored as shit with the never-ending hope and awesomeness of the TED Talks years ago. (Again, need I remind you, I am not a nice person. But, I’m sorry, okay? All those brilliant people get up on stage and talk about mind-blowingly fantastic ideas and idealizations for the future and, meanwhile, Detroit public workers are still losing their pensions, the President is still ordering the murders of innocent people in the name of fighting terrorism, the NSA is still spying on all of us, and black boys are still getting shot for being black. I’m cynical. Sue me.)

That being said, I am still compulsively interested in trying to improve my brain. (So that maybe, one day, I’ll appreciate those TED Talks for what they are.)

I cannot imagine trying to live a life in which I am not trying to become smarter. Well, no, again, I hate to contradict myself, but I can actually imagine that. I did it for years. I shut myself down, holed myself up, and played World of Warcraft every free minute of my life for about seven years. Man, do I wish I could have those years back.

So.

If you want to be “smarter,” here’s what I think: You have to be willing to change your mind. You have to willingly seek out ideas & concepts that are foreign to you. From my perspective, I think it is best for the person trying to educate himself if the author or speaker writes or speaks in a colloquial style. I think that many important concepts and ideas fail to take hold with people because they are written in high-brow language that only a sliver of serious academics can understand. Language can either be welcoming to virtually all literate people or it can be a unintelligible code to outsiders. Buddha, Gandhi, Jesus & Paul from the Bible, Mark Twain, Thomas Paine…these great thinkers ideas did not spread simply because their messages were universal. Their message was universal because the language they used was accessible & easy to understand.

Anyway.

Thanks for reading this if you’ve made it this far. I didn’t do a very good job of either communicating effectively or sounding intelligent in this post, I know, but I tried. I’ll do better next time. Although it’s possible that I’ve been bitten and infected by that herd of stupid zombies I referred to earlier, (Stupies? Zombidiots?), and I’m now simply part of the pack, watching Duck Dynasty, shuffling closer to a Starbucks or a Wal-Mart near you. Stay on your toes. And read “Invisible Man.” I hear it’s excellent.