Book Review: Invisible Life

When E. Lynn Harris’s Invisible Life was first published in 1991, a story about a Black man who is gay would have been something of a taboo subject.  Raymond Tyler, Jr., an up-and-coming attorney in New York City, learns what it means to keep your private life a secret.
Much of the novel addresses the question of identity.  Ray identifies as gay or bisexual.  He is “passionately attracted to women and sexually attracted to men.”  What does that make him?  Whatever the label, Ray recognizes that he is who he is.  Sexual desire is only a portion of who he is.  Many coming-out stories focus on the shame of sexual attraction, even when the person recognizes that they were born this way, and over the course of the story they come to accept who they are.  What makes Ray’s story different is that he has a fair amount of confidence.  He recognizes that the world may not accept his lifestyle.  Only in a perfect world would he be permitted to love whoever he chooses, regardless of gender.  Until that world comes to pass, Ray keeps his personal life invisible.
Overall, I respect E. Lynn Harris’s approach to sexuality, though he leaves certain questions unexplored.  In the first chapter, Ray describes his first same-sex relationship, during his senior year of college.  Up until this point, Ray has never been attracted to a man.  Then Kelvin shows up, and something is unlocked inside Ray.  Next, the story jumps forward six years, and now Ray is comfortably living a gay lifestyle in New York City.  No explanation of how he has gone from this moment of unexpected discovery to acceptance.  Ray expresses no shame, no uncertainty, merely a curious awareness that he now desires men. This transition could have used a little unpacking.
Which leads to another problem with the narrative.  At times, Ray’s emotional response to a situation comes out of the blue.  I couldn’t always grasp what prompted the depth of feeling.  For example, on a flight home after seeing his parents, Ray states that he has had a rough life.  To be sure, he and his father have a mildly strained relationship, but up until this point, Ray has only described his family as loving and supportive.  For him to suddenly bemoan deep-seated difficulties made me want to know precisely what they are.
The narrative covers a number of issues:  being Black, gay, bisexual, as well as the prejudice within the African-American community based on skin tone.  Ray’s ruminations on these themes are crucial to the story, but much of this examination only occurs at the novel’s conclusion.  As he pulls together the puzzle pieces, he has moments of revelation.  These light-bulb moments are efficient in terms of storytelling, but I found myself wanting Ray to have some of these awarenesses earlier on in the tale.  It would have given his story arc a bit more intentionality.  As it is, Ray has various encounters with gay and bisexual men, without gaining insight until the story’s climax requires it.
My single largest criticism of the story – and even this isn’t that serious – is that every character is beautiful.  Green-eyed Ray, gorgeous Nicole, strapping Kelvin, and muscular Quinn are all perfect models of human beings.  Plus, everyone wants to sleep with Ray.  Everyone.  He is described as so attractive that everyone is hankering to take him to bed.  Curiously, though, Ray does not come across as vain.  Instead, he is often noting how beautiful the other characters are. 
Invisible Life is very readable.  Harris’s writing style is a mixture of efficient description and a fair amount of emotional resonance:  “Protected by a crisp, cloudless sky, I sipped iced tea on the dusty wooden deck of my parents’ home.” 
While sentences like this do a good job in setting tone, I often hoped that Harris would relax a little.  He is so attentive to composing careful word-craft that he never allows his prose to have any form of idiosyncrasy.  As a narrator, Ray is serviceable, albeit a bit detached.
Ray’s story continues in Just As I Am and Abide with Me.