... from Rachel Lucas. Her post made me laugh out loud. Mainly because of sentences like this:
I feared I would alienate my spouse-figure John forever if I blurted out what I was thinking throughout the entire 9+ hours of the thing, which was mostly along the lines of I think I just got pregnant while watching Viggo Mortensen kick that orc's ass.
And
After Legolas leapt backward onto his charging horse in a way that can only be described as physically impossible yet very very hot (while being attacked by the wolves of Isengard), I had to have a cigarette.
Oh, female lust. I adore it, having experienced so much of it myself.
Found this quiz "Test Your Knowledge of Middle Earth" over on Llama Butchers (along with many other fun Tolkien links) and thought I would post the questions here. Feel free to participate in the comments if you like. There is an element of whimsy to the questions, at least the beginning ones.
Beginning Questions
1. Just exactly what was the nature of the friendship between Gimli and Legolas?
2. If Aragorn had the option, would he have ditched the Fellowship for a date with Pamela Anderson?
3. Why didn't Gandalf just blow up the armies that got in his way, if he was so powerful?
4. How many times is the word "passed" used in LotR? (No peeking!)
5. What exactly was in lembas? (Hint: in Letters #210, JRRT says quite explicitly that lembas is not a "food concentrate".)
6. Why didn't the hobbits in the Shire rise against Sharkey and his men sooner? (Were Frodo, Sam and the lads a cut above hobbitdom and thus extraordinary?)
7. If Aragorn truly spent uncounted years as a lone Ranger, then where the hell is Tonto? And why doesn't he wear that mask?
8. If Frodo hung the Ring on a chain, why didn't the chain turn invisible?
9. When Isildur had control of the One Ring, why didn't he use it to command the Ringwraiths? Or the Elven-rings? Or the Dwarven-rings? He could have ruled the whole of Middle-earth with that Ring, yet he decided instead to just write a couple of letters and then go for an unfortunate swim. What's his problem, anyway? Was he stupid?
10. When Legolas introduces Gimli to Treebeard, Gimli bows low and his axe falls to the ground. Treebeard notices this, but merely comments "Hoom! A Dwarf and an axe-bearer!" rather than smash Gimli to Play-Doh™. Doubtless you've heard of the poem, "Woodsman, Spare That Tree!"; did Tolkien have plans to write another version, titled "Tree, Spare That Woodsman!"?
11. Why is the tale of Beren and Luthien subtitled "Release from Bondage", when we never even once get to see her tied up? (And I was really hoping, too.)
12. And if, as is likely, a bacterium had landed on the inner surface of the Ring, would the Ring corrupt it into an evil bacterium? Would it be invisible to other bacteria? Would its' life stretch out and become an unending weariness? Would it use its' increased strength and stature to rule over other bacteria? Would it fight to keep other bacteria from adhering to the Ring? Would it still evolve genetically, or would it instead become a Bacteria-wraith?
Advanced Questions
13. When the Dwarves of beautiful Khazad-Dum built their Western door, why did they allow it to be inscribed with the insulting name of "Moria" ("Black Pit"), a name that would only be earned long years afterwards?
14. Reconcile Tom Bombadil's statement that he is "Eldest" with Gandalf's statement that Fangorn is "the oldest of all living things". Extra Credit: suggest a valid date of birth for each of them. Document your answers.
15. Aragorn states (Two Towers, p. 18 hardback) that Sauron never uses the name "Sauron", nor does he "permit it to be spelt or spoken". Reconcile this text with the text of Return of the King, p. 164 hardback, where the Lieutenant of Barad-Dur clearly states, "I am the Mouth of Sauron".
16. Though Moria is, by rightful ownership, Dain's, Balin nonetheless referred to himself as "Lord of Moria". Helm's Deep is clearly the property of the Rohirrim, being part of lands granted to them by Gondor long years ago, yet in Return of the King p. 360 hardback Gimli declares himself "Lord of the Glittering Caves". Explain the laws and history pertaining to Dwarven property rights, and how those differed from the customs of Elves and Men. For full credit your answer must also reconcile Dwarven property laws with the generous nature of Aule, the Dwarves' creator.
17. How would the history of Middle-earth have differed if Sauron had returned to Aman and received the judgement of Manwe at the end of the First Age, rather than remaining in Middle-Earth (Silmarillion p. 285 hardback)? Describe resultant cultural differences which would have taken place in the Second, Third and Fourth Ages. Special emphasis should be given to the cultures of the Grey Havens, Numenor (including the Dunedain and the Black Numenoreans), the Rohirrim, the Dunlendings and others descending from the peoples of the White Mountains, the Ents, the peoples of Khand, the Orcs (particularly those tribes living in the Grey, Misty and Ash Mountains and the Mountains of Shadow), the Elven peoples of Gil-Galad (include Elrond and the likelihood of Rivendell's being constructed), the Hobbits (beginning from when they were living in the Vales of Anduin), and the Haradrim (both Near and Far Harad must be covered for full credit). Also speculate on the differences in culture which would take place in Aman as Sauron describes his experience with evil to the Valar, Maiar, and Eldar living there. On Silmarillion p. 65, it states that "Manwe was free from evil and could not comprehend it"; would he gain an understanding of evil from the experiences of Sauron? Be prepared to defend your answer.
I come across this thread, entitled "The LotR Trilogy and Nazism.. connection?" I have no idea how these people found me - but in the midst of the discussion (which gets quite out there ... you gotta go read it) someone links to the thing I posted once - the letter Tolkien wrote to a German publisher.
This was suggested (kind of) by a reader.
If you knew someone who hadn't seen The Ring Trilogy (because, obviously, they lived in Chad or something) - and you had to choose one moment from the entire trilogy - that could sum up the whole - and catch the spirit, the feel of it - which moment would you choose?
Well, it doesn't have to be a moment. It could be a scene.
I'm inclined to go with Aragorn and the Hobbits, all clustered together, looking at the wraith-dudes coming up to them from out of the darkness below the mound - in the first movie. Dave J: what is the name of that ancient Stone Henge-y place? Wytherspoon or something? No, that's not right.
Anyway, that's the first scene that came to my mind. Why? The sense of being surrounded, of the forces of evil being too much to fight, of the Hobbits being "unprepared" for the battle ...
It's like putting the film into a sieve and shaking, shaking ... which gold nuggets inevitably remain?
A while back, I asked the devastatingly important question: "What the hell is going on with Orcs?"
Many of my brilliant readers came forth with helpful commentary - but one over-riding refrain was: "It's all explained in The Silmarillion."
I am now reading The Silmarillion (primarily during my commute into Manhattan - I find that reading about 3 pages a day is my limit - at least with this work.) And I found, as promised, the answer to my question in the following excerpt (the last paragraph goes into the creation of the Orcs):
Yet many of the Quendi were filled with dread at his coming; and this was the doing of Melkor. For by after-knowledge the wise declare that Melkor, ever watchful, was first aware of the awakening of the Quendi, and sent shadows and evil spirits to spy upon them and waylay them. So it came to pass, some years ere the coming or Orome, that if any of the Elves strayed far abroad, alone or few together, they would often vanish, and never return; and the Quendi said that the Hunter had caught them, and they were afraid. And indeed the most ancient songs of the Elves, of which echoes are remembered still in the West, tell of the shadow-shapes that walked in the hills above Cuivienen, or would pass suddenly over the stars; and of the dark Rider upon his wild horse that pursued those that wandered to take them and devour them. Now Melkor greatly hated and feared the riding of Orome, and either he sent indeed his dark servants as riders, or he set lying whispers abroad, for the purpose that the Quendi should shun Orome, if ever they should meet.Thus it was that when Nahar neighed and Orome indeed came among them, some of the Quendi hid themselves, and some fled and were lost. But those that had courage, and stayed, perceived swiftly that the Great Rider was no shape out of darkness; for the light of Aman was on his face, and all the noblest of the Elves were drawn towards it.
But of those unhappy ones who were ensnared by Melkor little is known of a certainty. For who of the living has descended into the pits of Utumno, or has explored the darkness of the counsels of Melkor? Yet this is held true by the wise of Eressea, that all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves, of whom they were afterwards the bitterest foes. For the Orcs had life and multiplied after the manner of the Children of Iluvatar; and naught that had life of its own, nor the semblance of life, could ever Melkor make since his rebellion in the Ainulindale before the Beginning: so say the wise. And deep in their dark hearts the Orcs loathed the Master whom they served in fear, the maker only of their misery. This it may be was the vilest deed of Melkor, and the most hateful to Iluvatar.
Uhm - see why 3 pages a day is my limit?
You will be pleased to know that I found a copy of The Silmarillion and I have begun to read it. I have only made it through the first two sections ... have not gotten to the "Silmaril" section yet. I am learning about the Valar and about Melkor screwing everything up - Melkor making Middle-earth into a "naughty world".
The language is quite high-falutin', I must say, but having read the entire Trilogy - I am getting along quite swimmingly.
It is making sense, is what I am trying to say. I don't think if I read The Silmarillion first I would have had any idea what was going on, and I would have thought that Tolkien had WAY WAY too much time on his hands.
It's fun. I like reading it.
I post this excerpt from one of Tolkien's letters for all my Tolkien-fan readers, and also specifically to annoy Patrick Prescott (who moved off Blogspot - Yeah!) Patrick has finally come to the conclusion that he is an "unwashed heathen", in terms of the Trilogy. It's okay, Patrick, I'm sure you and I could work something out.
This is a draft of a letter to one of the many many fans who wrote to him with questions. Many of these letters were never sent. He would have carbon copies made, and continue to work on the drafts of the letters. Especially as he got older.
This woman wrote to him, and here is his response.
I love it because it illuminates (without him knowing it, of course) his genius. He didn't ultimately see himself as a writer, or a creator of worlds - he saw himself as a historian. Fantastic. He saw Middle-Earth as a revealed place, he himself explored the landscape, unsure of what he would find.
To get a bit uber here, the story works itself way out into our world, using him as the vehicle, the voice.
Phenomenal.
Autumn 1971 Draft of letter to Carole Batten-Phelps
I am very grateful for your remarks on the critics and for your account of your personal delight in Lord of the Rings. You write in terms of such high praise that [to] accept it with just a 'thank you' might seem complacently conceited, though actually it only makes me wonder how this has been achieved - by me! Of course the book was written to please myself (at different levels), and as an experiment in the arts of long narrative, and of inducing 'Secondary Belief'. It was written slowly and with great care for detail & finally emerged as a Frameless Picture: a searchlight, as it were, on a brief episode in History, and on a small part of our Middle-earth, surrounded by the glimmer of limitless extensions in time and space. Very well: that may explain to some extent why it 'feels' like history; why it was accepted for publication; and why it has proved readable for a large number of very different kinds of people.
But it does not fully explain what has actually happened. Looking back on the wholly unexpected things that have followed its publication - beginning at once with the appearance of Vol. I - I feel as if an ever darkening sky over our present world had been suddenly pierced, the clouds rolled back, and an almost forgotten sunlight had poured down again. As if indeed the horns of Hope had been heard again, as Pippin heard them suddenly at the absolute nadir of the fortunes of the West. But How? and Why?
I think I can now guess what Gandalf would reply. A few years ago I was visited in Oxford by a man whose name I have fogotten (though I believe he was well-known). He had been much struck by the curious way in which old pictures seemed to him to have been designed to illustrate The Lord of the Rings long before its time. He brought one or two reproductions. I think he wanted at first simply to discover whether my imagination had fed on pictures, as it clearly had been by certain kinds of literature and languages. When it became obvious that, unless I was a liar, I had never seen the pictures before and was not well acquainted with pictorial Art, he fell silent. I became aware that he was looking fixedly at me. Suddenly he said, "Of course you don't suppose, do you, that you wrote all that book yourself?"
Pure Gandalf! I was too well acquainted with Gandalf to expose myself rashly, or to ask what he meant. I think I said: "No, I don't suppose so any longer." I have never since been able to suppose so. An alarming conclusion for an old philologist to draw concerning his private amusement. But not one that should puff any one up who considers the imperfections of "chosen instruments", and indeed what sometimes seems their lamentable unfitness for the purpose.
You speak of "a sanity and sanctity" in the L.R. "which is a power in itself." I was deeply moved. Nothing of the kind had been said to me before. But by a strange chance, just as I was beginning this letter, I had one from a man, who classified himself as "an unbeliever, or at best a man of belatedly and dimly dawning religious feeling ... but you", he said, "create a world in which some sort of faith seems to be everywhere without a viable source, like light from an invisible lamp." I can only answer: "Of his own sanity no man can securely judge. If sanctity inhabits his work or as a pervading light illumines it then it does not come from him but through him. And neither of you would perceive it in these terms unless it was with you also. Otherwise you would see and feel nothing, or (if some other spirit was present) you would be filled with contempt, nausea, hatred. "Leaves out of the elf-country, gah!" "Lembas - dust and ashes, we don't eat that!"
Of course The L.R. does not belong to me. It has been brought forth and must now go its appointed way in the world, though naturally I take a deep interest in its fortunes, as a parent would of a child. I am comforted to know that it has good friends to defend it against the malice of its enemies. (But all the fools are not in the other camp.) With best wishes to one of its best friends. I am
Yours sincerely
JRR Tolkien
The excerpt I posted, where Tolkien discusses "the failure of Frodo", in the end, to complete his mission, generated a very interesting discussion. If you're a Tolkien freak like myself.
Bill McCabe commented: You're right, but he also makes the point that no man could hold an object with such power without succumbing to it's power. While he makes the one point that men are weak and easily corrupted, he also shows the men of Gondor and Rohan finding the strength within to stand againt the Dark Lord. I'm wondering if any of the letters address this in more detail.
Well. Naturally because I am developing a form of Tolkien autism I searched out more quotes on this very important issue.
Tolkien has a lot to say about free will - and also about the "failure" of Frodo at the end. But he is never more clear than in this unforgivably long excerpt. (I type over 80 words a minute)
In this excerpt, Tolkien tackles the power of the Ring - and what the Ring does to people (except for Tom B., as discussed in the comments, as well). I mean, Galadriel, in her 2-second contact with the Ring, is wrung dry. And she is a veteran of wars and rebellions and Great Events.
Perhaps it is Great people who are more prone to the power of the Ring - because their egos tell them that they can actually have an impact on the course of events. While hobbits just want to have a nice smoke and gossip about their neighbors as they watch the stars rise.
Hobbits don't have a well-developed sense of "agency" (read: EGO).
Anyway. In this letter, Tolkien describes what would have happened, he believes, if other members of the Fellowship had somehow found themselves in the position Frodo found himself in, at Mount Doom.
Again, this excerpt is LONG, my friends (it's long enough that I omitted stuff not completely relevant to this discussion of free will. Please don't kill me. I put ellipses where stuff is left out). It's long, yeah, but people seem to enjoy reading these excerpts. So I will be the drudge. It's great stuff.
I particularly like his cautionary tone at the end - when he described what possession of the Ring would do to a man of such great moral stature as Gandalf. Despite his message of hope, and the possibility of redemption, Tolkien seems, to me, most like a cynic.
I almost laughed out loud when I read this short letter to a fan, who had written asking him if he was working on a sequel to LOTR. Tolkien replied:
I did begin a story placed about 100 years after the Downfall of Mordor, but it proved both sinister and depressing. Since we are dealing with Men it is inevitable that we should be concerned with the most regrettable feature of their nature: their quick satiety with good. So that the people of Gondor in times of peace, justice and prosperity, would become discontented and restless - while the dynasts descended from Aragorn would become just kings and governors - like Denethor or worse. I found that even so early there was an outcrop of revolutionary plots, about a center of secret Satanistic religion; while Gondorian boys were playing at being Orcs and going round doing damage. I could have written a thriller about the plot and its discovery and overthrow - but it would be just that. Not worth doing.
Tolkien knew peace never lasts, and in his imagination he sees that little boys will form secret "Orc-clubs", and not revere all that has gone before ... It is human nature. Perhaps cynical.
But cynical in the way our Founding Fathers were, drafting the articles of impeachment before George Washington even became the first President. That fact alone is evidence of grave cynicism, but I would also call it ultimately pragmatism: Men will be men. Men are corruptible. No one is above making a grab for power. NO ONE.
September 1963 Draft of letter to Mrs. Eileen Elgar
Very few (indeed so far as letters go only you and one other) have observed or commented on Frodo's "failure". It is a very important point.
From the point of view of the storyteller the events on Mt Doom proceed simply from the logic of the tale up to that time. They were not deliberately worked up to nor foreseen until they occured. But, for one thing, it became at last quite clear that Frodo after all that had happened would be incapable of voluntarily destroyoing the Ring. Reflecting on the solution after it was arrived at (as a mere event) I feel that it is central to the whole "theory" of true nobility and heroism that is presented.
Frodo indeed "failed" as a hero, as conceived by simple minds: he did not endure to the end; he gave in, ratted. I do not say "simple minded" with contempt: they often see with clarity the simple truth and the absolute ideal to which effort must be directed, even if it is unattainable. Their weakness, however, is twofold. They do not perceive the complexty of any given situation in Time, in which an absolute ideal is enmeshed. They tend to forget that strange element in the World that we call Pity or Mercy, which is also an absolute requirement in moral judgement (since it is present in the Divine nature). In its highest exercise it belongs to God. For finite judges of imperfect knowledge it must lead to the use of two different scales of "morality". To ourselves we must present the absolute ideal without compromise, for we do not know our own limits of natural strength (+ grace), and if we do not aim at the highest we shall certainly fall short of the utmost that we could achieve. To others, in any case of which we know enough to make a judgement, we must apply a scale tempered by "mercy": that is, since we can with good will do this without the bias inevitable in judgements of ourselves, we must estimate the limits of another's strength and weigh this against the force of particular circumstances. (We frequently see this double scale used by the saints in their judgements upon themselves when suffering great hardships or temptations, and upon others in like trials.)
I do not think that Frodo's was a moral failure. At the last moment the pressure of the Ring would reach its maximum - impossible, I should have said, for any one to resist, certainly after long possession, months of increasing torment, and when starved and exhausted. Frodo had done what he could and spent himself completely (as an instrument of Providence) and had produced a situation in which the object of his quest could be achieved. His humility (with which he began) and his sufferings were justly reqarded by the highest honour; and his exercise of patience and mercy towards Gollum gained him Mercy: his failure was redressed.
We are finite creatures with absolute limitations upon the powers of our soul-body structure in either action or endurance. Moral failure can only be asserted, I think, when a man's effort or endurance falls short of his limits, and the blame decreases as that limit is closer approached. (No account is here taken of "grace" or the enhancement of our powers as instruments of Providence. Frodo was given "grace": first to answer the call (at the end of the Council) after long resisiting a complete surrender; and later in his resistance to the temptation of the Ring (at times when to claim and so reveal it would have been fatal), and in his endurance of fear and suffering. But grace is not infinite, and for the most part seems in the Divine economy limited to what is sufficient for the accomplishment of the task appointed to one instrument in a pattern of circumstances and other instruments.)
...Frodo undertook his quest out of love - to save the world he knew from disaster at his own expense, if he could; and also in complete humility, acknowledging that he was wholly inadequate to the task. His real contract was only to do what he could, to try to find a way, and to go as far on the road as his strength of mind and body allowed. He did that. I do not myself see that the breaking of his mind and will under demonic pressure after torment was any more a moral failure than the breaking of the body would have been ...
That appears to have been the judgement of Gandalf and Aragorn and of all who learned the full story of his journey. Certainly nothing would be concealed by Frodo! But what Frodo himself thought about the events is quite another matter.
He appears at first to have had no sense of guilt ("And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will nor madness, nor any fear ... 'The Quest is achieved, and now all is over,'"); he was restored to sanity and peace. But then he thought that he had given his life in sacrifice: he expected to die very soon. But he did not, and one can observe the disquiet growing in him. Arwen was the first to observe the signs, and gave him her jewel for comfort, and thought of a way of healing him...Slowly he fades "out of the picture", saying and doing less and less. I think it is clear on reflection to an attentive reader that when his dark times came upon him and he was conscious of being "wounded by knife sting and tooth and a long burden", it was not only nightmare memories of past horrors that afflicted him, but also unreasoning self-reproach: he saw himself and all that he done as a broken failure ... And it was mixed with another temptation, blacker and yet (in a sense) more merited, for however that may be explained, he had not in fact cast away the Ring by a voluntary act: he was tempted to regret its destruction, and still to desire it. "It is gone for ever, and now all is dark and empty," he said as he wakened from his sickness in 1420.
"Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured," said Gandalf - not in Middle-earth. Frodo was sent or allowed to pass over Sea to heal him - if that could be done, before he died...Bilbo went too. No doubt as a completion of the plan due to Gandalf himself. Gandalf had a very great affection for Bilbo, from the hobbit's childhood onwards. His companionship was really necessary for Frodo's sake - it is difficult to imagine a hobbit, even one who had been through Frodo's experiences, being really happy even in an earthly paradise without a companion of his own kind, and Bilbo was the person that Frodo most loved. But he also needed and deserved the favour on his own account. He bore still the mark of the Ring that needed to be finally erased: a trace of pride and personal possessiveness. Of course he was old and confused in mind, but it was still a revealation of the "black mark" when he said in Rivendell, "What's become of my ring, Frodo, that you took away?" and when he was reminded of what had happened, his immediate reply was: "What a pity! I should have liked to see it again!"...
Sam is meant to be lovable and laughable. Some readers he irritates and even infuriates. I can well understand it. All hobbits at times affect me in the same way, though I remain very fond of them. But Sam can be very "trying". He is a more representative hobbit than any others that we have to see much of; and he consequently has a stronger ingeredient of that quality which even some hobbits found at times hard to bear: a vulgarity - by which I do not mean a mere "down-to-earthiness" - a mental myopia which is proud of itself, a smugness (in varying degrees) and cocksureness, and a readiness to measure and sum up all things from a limited experience, largely enshrined in sententious traditional "wisdom". We only meet exceptional hobbits in close companionship - those who had a grace or gift: a vision of beauty, and a reverence for things nobler than thmselves, at war with their rustic self-satisfaction. Imagine Sam without his education by Bilbo and his fascination wtih things Elvish!...
Sam was cocksure, and deep down a little conceited; but his conceit had been transformed by his devotion to Frodo. He did not think of himself as heroic or even brave, or in any way admirable - except in his service and loyalty to his master. That had an ingredient (probably inevitable) of pride and possessiveness ... In any case it prevented him from fully understanding the master tha the loved, and from following him in his gradual education to the nobility of service to the unlovable and of perception of damaged goods in the corrupt. He plainly did not fully understand Frodo's motives or his distress in the incident of the Forbidden Pool. If he had understood better what was going on between Frodo and Gollum, things might have turned out differently in the end.
For me perhaps the most tragic moment in the Tale comes in II 323 ff. when Sam fails to note the complete change in Gollum's tone and aspect. "Nothing, nothing," said Gollum softly. "Nice master!" His repentance is blighted and all Frodo's pity is (in a sense) wasted. Shelob's lair becomes inevitable.
This is due of course to the "logic of the story". Sam could hardly have acted differently ... If he had, what could then have happened? The course of the entry into Mordor and the struggle to reach Mount Doom would have been different, and so would the ending. The insterest would have shifted to Gollum, I think, and the battle that would have gone on between his repentance and his new love on one side and the Ring. Though the love would have been strengthened daily it could not have wrested the mastery from the Ring. I think that in some queer twisted and pitiable way Gollum would have tried (not maybe with conscious design) to satisfy both. Certainly at some point not long before the end he would have stolen the Ring or taken it by violence (as he does in the actual Tale). But "possession" satisfied, I think he would then have sacrificed himself for Frodo's sake and have voluntarily cast himself into the fiery abyss.
I think that an effect of his partial regeneration by love would have been a clearer vision when he claimed the Ring. He would have perceived the evil of Sauron, and suddenly realized that he could not use the Ring and had not the strength or stature to keep it in Sauron's despite: the only way to keep it and hurt Sauron was to destory it and himself together - and in a flash he may have seen that this would also be the greatest service to Frodo. Frodo in the tale actually takes the Ring and claims it, and certainly he too would have had a clear vision - but he was not given any time: he was immediately attacked by Gollum. When Sauron was aware of the seizure of the Ring his one hope was in its power: that the claimant would be unable to relinquish it until Sauron had time to deal with him. Frodo too would then probably, if not attacked, have had to take the same way: cast himself with the Ring into the abyss. If not he would of course have completely failed. It is an interesting problem: how Sauron would have acted or the claimant have resisted. Sauron sent at once the Ringwraiths. They were naturally fully instructed, and in no way deceived as to the real lordship of the Ring. The wearer would not be invisible to them, but the reverse; and the more vulnerable to their weapons. But the situation was now different to that under Weathertop, where Frodo acted merely in fear and wished only to use (in vain) the Ring's subsidiary power of conferring invisibility. He had grown since then. Would they have been immune from its power if he claimed it as an instrument of command and domination?
Not wholly. I do not think they could have attacked him with violence, nor laid hold upon him or taken him captive; they would have obeyed or feigned to obey any minor commands of his that did not interfere with their errand - laid upon them by Sauron, who still through their nine rings (which he held) had primary control of their wills. That errand was to remove Frodo from the Crack. Once he lost the power or opportunity to destroy the Ring, the end could not be in doubt - saving help from outside, which was hardly even remotely possible.
Frodo had become a considerable person, but of a special kind: in spiritual enlargement rather than in increase of physical or mental power; his will was much stronger than it had been, but so far it had been exercised in resisting not using the Ring and with the object of destroying it. He needed time, much time, before he could control the Ring or (which in such a case is the same) before it could control him; before his will and arrogance could grow to a stature in which he could dominate other major hostile wills. Even so for a long time his acts and commands would still have to seem 'good" to him, to be for the benefit of others beside himself.
The situation as between Frodo with the Ring and the Eight (the Witch-king had been reduced to impotence) might be compared to that of a small brave man armed with a devastating weapon, faced by eight savage warriors of great strength and agility armed with poisoned blades. The man's weakness was that he did not know how to use his weapon yet; and he was by temperament and training averse to violence. Their weakness that the man's weapon was a thing that filled them with fear as an object of terror in their religious cult, by which they had been conditioned to treat one who wielded it with servility. I think they would have shown "servility". They would have greeted Frodo as "Lord". With fair speeches they would have induced him to leave the Sammath Naur - for instance "to look upon his new kingdom, and behold afar with his new sight the abode of power that he must now claim and turn to his own purposes." Once outside the chamber while he was gazing some of them would have destroyed the entrance. Frodo would by then probably have been already too enmeshed in great plans of reformed rule - like but far greater and wider than the vision that tempted Sam ("Wild fantasies arose in his mind; and he saw Samwise the Strong, Hero of the Age, striding with a sword across the darkened land, and armies flocking to his call as he marched to the overthrow of Barad-due.") - to heed this. But if he still preserved some sanity and partly understood the significance of it, so that he refused now to go with them to Barad-due, they would simply have waited. Until Sauron himself came.
In any case a confrontation of Frodo and Sauron would soon have taken place, if the Ring was intact. Its result was inevitable. Frodo would have been utterly overthrown: crushed to dust, or preserved in torment as a gibbering slave. Sauron would not have feared the Ring! It was his own and under his will. Even from afar he had an effect upon it, to make it work for its return to himsefl. In his actual presence none but very few of equal stature could have hoped to withhold it from him. Of "mortals" no one, not even Artagorn. In the contest with the Palantir Aragorn was the rightful owner. Also the contest took place at a distance, and in a tale which allows the incarnation of great spirits in a physical and destructivle form their power must be far greater when actually physically present. Sauron should be thought of as very terrible. The form that he took was that of a man of more than human stature, but not gigantic. In his earlier incarnation he was able to veil his power (as Gandalf did) and could appear as a commanding figure of great strength of body and supremely royal demeanour and countenance.
Of the others only Gandalf might be expected to master him - being an emissary of the Powers and a creature of the same order, an immortal spirit taking a visible physical form. In the "Mirror of Galadriel", it appears that Galadriel conceived of herself as capable of wielding the Ring and supplanting the Dark Lord. IF so, so also were the other guardians of the Three, especially Elrond. But this is another matter. It was part of the essential deceit of the Ring to fill minds with imaginations of supreme power. But this the Great had well considered and had rejected, as is seen in Elrond's words at the Council. Galadriel's rejection of the temptation was founded upon previous thought and resolve. In any case Elrond or Galadriel would have proceeded in the policy now adopted by Sauron: they would have built up an empire with great and absolutely subservient generals and armies and engines of war, until they could challenge Sauron and destroy him by force. Confrontation of Sauron alone, unaided, self to self, was not contemplated.
One can impagine the scene in which Gandalf, say, was placed in such a position. It would be a delicate balance. On one side the true allegiance of the Ring to Sauron; on the other superior strength because Sauron was not actually in possession, and perhaps also because he was weakened by long corruption and expenditure of will in dominating inferiors. If Gandalf proved the victor, the result would have been for Sauron the same as the destruction of the Ring; for him it would have been destroyed, taken from him for ever. But the Ring and all its works would have endured. It would have been the master in the end.
Gandalf as Ring-Lord would have been far worse than Sauron. He would have remained "righteous", but self-righteous. He would have continued to rule and order things for "good", and the benefit of his subjects according to his wisdom (which would have remained great.
Thus while Sauron multiplied evil, he left "good" clearly distinguishable from it. Gandalf would have made good destestable and seem evil.
Tolkien responds to many letters from fans and reviewers about the failure of Frodo, in the end, to complete the Quest. I have a lot more to say on this - Tolkien's discussion of Pity, and Mercy - and how salvation can only come through those things - not through Power, Might, or even Success. But I'll get back to that.
Here's a couple excerpts on what Tolkien calls "the failure of Frodo":
26 July 1956 Draft of letter to Miss J. Burn
If you re-read all the passages dealing with Frodo and the Ring, I think you will see that not only was it quite impossible for him to surrender the Ring, in act or will, especially at its point of maximum power, but that this failure was adumbrated from far back. He was honoured because he had accepted the burden voluntarily, and then had done all that was within his utmost physical and mental strength to do. He (and the Cause) were saved - by mercy: by the supreme value and efficacy of Pity and forgiveness of injury.
Corinthians I x. 12-13 may not at first sight seem to fit ("Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.") - unless "bearing temptation" is taken to mean resisting it while still a free agent in normal command of the will. I think rather of the mysterious last petitions of the Lord's Prayer: Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. A petition against something that cannot happen is unmeaning. There exists the possibility of being placed in positions beyond one's power. In which case (as I believe) salvation from ruin will depend on something apparently unconnected: the general sanctity (and humility and mercy) of the sacrificial person. I did not "arrange" the deliverance in this case: it again follows the logic of the story. (Gollum had had his chance of repentance, and of returning generosity with love; and had fallen off the knife-edge). In the case of those who now issue from prison "brainwashed", broken, or insane, praising their torturers, no such immediate deliverance is as a rule to be seen. But we can at least judge them by the will and intentions with which they entered the Sammath Naur; and not demand impossible feats of will, which could only happen in stories unconcerned with real moral and mental probability.
No, Frodo "failed". It is possible that once the ring was destroyed he had little recollection of the last scene. But one must face the fact: the power of Evil in the world is not finally resistible by incarnate creatures, however "good"; and the Writer of the Story is not one of us.
27 July 1956 Letter to Amy Ronald
By chance, I have just had another letter regarding the failure of Frodo. Very few seem even to have observed it. But following the logic of the plot, it was clearly inevitable, as an event. And surely it is a more significant and real event than a mere "fairy story" ending in which the hero is indomitable? It is possible for the good, even the saintly, to be subjected to a power of evil which is too great for them to overcome - in themselves. In this case the cause (not the "hero") was triumphant, because by the exercise of pity, mercy, and forgiveness of injury, a situation was produced in which all was redressed and disaster averted. Gandalf certainly foresaw this. ("Pity? It was pity that stayed [Bilbo's] hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.") Of course he did not mean to say that one must be merciful, for it may prove useful later - it would not then be mercy or pity, which are only truly present when contrary to prudence. Not ours to plan! But we are assured that we must be ourselves extravagantly generous, if we are to hope for the extravagant generosity which the slightest easing of, or escape from, the consequences of our own follies and errors represents. And that mercy does sometimes occur in this life.
Frodo deserved all honour because he spent every drop of his power of will and body, and that was just sufficient to bring him to the destined point, and no further. Few others, possibly no others of his time, would have got so far. The Other Power then took over: the Writer of the Story (by which I do not mean myself), "that one ever-present Person who is never absent and never named" (as one critic has said). (Gandalf to Frodo: "Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-Maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker.")
A third (the only other) commentator on the point some months ago reviled Frodo as a scoundrel (who should have been hung and not honoured), and me too. It seems sad and strange that, in this evil time when daily people of good will are tortured, "brainwashed", and broken, anyone could be so fiercely simpleminded and righteous.
Tolkien wrote a draft to an unidentified reader, and in it he describes his affinity to Faramir. (Or should I say, his affinity "with" Faramir? Patrick, Grammar Guru, care to comment?)
14 January 1856
... There is hardly any reference in The Lord of the Rings to things that do not actually exist on its own plane (of secondary or sub-creationary reality): sc. have been written. (The cats of Queen Beruthiel and the names and adventures of the other 2 wizards (5 minus Saruman, Gandalf, Radagast) are all that I recollect.) The Silmarillion was offered for publication years ago, and turned down. Good may come of such blows. The Lord of the Rings was the result. The hobbits had been welcomed. I loved them myself, since I love the vulgar and simple as dearly as the noble, and nothing moves my heart (beyond all the passions and heartbreaks of the world) so much as "ennoblement" (from the Ugly Duckling to Frodo). I would build on the hobbits. And I saw that I was meant to do it (as Gandalf would say - I am not Gandalf, being a transcendent Sub-creator in this little world. As far as any character is "like me" it is Faramir - except that I lack what all my characters possess (let the psychoanalysts note!) Courage), since without thought, in a "blurb" I wrote for The Hobbit, I spoke of the time between the Elder Days and the Dominion of Men. Out of that came the "missing link": The "Downfall of Numenor", releasing some hidden "complex". For when Faramir speaks of his private vision of the Great Wave, he speaks for me. That vision and dream has been ever with me - and has been inherited (as I only discovered recently) by one of my children.
While Tolkien continuously refers to himself as a "hobbit" in his letters, I was fascinated and gratified to hear that, in actuality, he felt that his alter-ego in the trilogy was Faramir.
Faramir was, by far, my favorite character, the one who moved me the most.
Tolkien let Faramir be his own mouthpiece in the tale ... Perhaps that is why he so stood out for me.
I'll post some excerpts about that later.
This is an extensive excerpt from a letter Tolkien wrote to a Michael Straight, then editor of The New Republic. Straight wanted to review LOTR and had sent Tolkien a list of questions to answer.
One of the best things about this compilation of letters is that it completely follows Tolkien's dictum: His biography is not all that interesting, per se. What is really interesting about him can all be found in Lord of the Rings. Most of the letters have to do with him discussing the book, answering questions, explaining himself - It's all Middle-Earth. It focuses on his writing, the mind of this extraordinary man.
Another thing I find consistently amazing (and inspiring, if a little bit initmidating) is that Tolkien did not see that he had "invented" anything, and was annoyed when people praised him about his "invention". He saw LOTR as revealed truth. He had no idea what was going to happen - it was as though HE was discovering an already-existing landscape, in the same way his readers felt. He didn't plan anything out, he didn't consciously plot anything. Sometimes I read his protestations on this matter, and wonder if he is exaggerating a bit. Surely he must have known where the epic was going? But I can only take his word for it. He did not.
So here are some of his responses to Mr. Straight's queries:
January 1956
I will try and answer your specific questions. The final scene of the Quest was so shaped simply because having regard to the situation, and to the 'characters' of Frodo, Sam, and Gollum, those events seemed to me mechanically, morally, and psychologically credible. But, of course, if you wish for more reflection, I should say that within the mode of the story, the 'catastrophe' exemplifies (an aspect of) the familiar words: 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.'
"Lead us not into temptation &c." is the harder and the less often considered petition. The view, in the terms of my story, is that though every event or situation has (at least) two aspects: the history and development of the individual (it is something out of which he can get good, ultimate good, for himself, or fail to do so), and the history of the world (which depends on his action for its own sake) - still there are abnormal situations in which one may be placed. 'Sacrificial' situations, I should call them: sc. positions in which the "good" of the world depends on the behavior of an individual in circumstances which demand of him suffering and endurance far beyond the normal - even, it may happen (or seem, humanely speaking), demand a strength of body and mind which he does not possess: he is in a sense doomed to failure, doomed to fall to temptation or be broken by pressure against his "will"; that is against any choice he could make or would make unfettered, not under the duress.
Frodo was in such a position: an apparently complete trap: a person of greater native power could probably never have resisited the Ring's lure to power so long; a person of less power could not hope to resist it in the final decision. (Already Frodo had been unwilling to harm the Ring before he set out, and was incapable of surrendering it to Sam,.)
The Quest: was bound to fail as a piece of world-plan, and also was bound to end in disaster as the story of humble Frodo's development to the "noble", his sanctification. Fail it would and did as far as Frodo considered alone was concerned. He "apostatized" - and I have had one savage letter, crying out that he shd. have been executed as a traitor, not honored. Believe me, it was not until I read this that I had myself any idea how "topical" such a situation might appear. It arose naturally from my "plot" conceived in main outline in 1936. I did not foresee that before the tale was published we should enter a dark age in which the technique of torture and disruption of personality would rival that of Mordor and the Ring, and present us with the practical problems of honest men of good will broken down into apostates and traitors.
But at this point the "salvation" of the world and Frodo's own salvation is achieved by his previous pity and forgiveness of injurty. At any point any prudent person would have told Frodo that Gollum would certainly betray him, and could rob him in the end. (Not quite "certainly". The clumsiness in fidelity of Sam was what finally pushed Gollum over the brink, when about to repent.) To "pity" him, to forbear to kill him, was a piece of folly, or a mystical belief in the ultimate value-in-itself of pity and generosity even if disastrous in the world of time. He did rob him and injure him in the end - but by a "grace", that last betrayal was at a precise juncture when the final evil deed was the most beneficial thing any one cd. have done for Frodo! By a situation created by his "forgiveness", he was saved himself, and relieved of his burden. He was very justly accorded the highest honors - since it is clear that he and Sam never concealed the precise course of events. Into the ultimate judgement upon Gollum I would not care to enquire. This would be to investigate "Goddes privatee," as the Medievals said. Gollum was pitiable, but he ended in persistent wickedness, and the fact that this worked good was no credit to him. His marvellous courage and endurance, as great as Frodo and Sam's or greater, being devoted to evil was portentous, but not honourable. I am afraid, whatever our beliefs, we have to face the fact that there are persons who yield to temptations, reject their chances of nobility or salvation, and appear to be "damnable". Their "damnability" is not measurable in terms of the macrocosm (where it may work good). But we who are all "in the same boat" must not usurp the Judge. The domination of the Ring was much too strong for the mean soul of Smeagol. But he would have never had to endure it if he had not become a mean sort of thief before it crossed his path. Need it ever have crossed his path? Need anything dangerous ever cross any of our paths? A kind of answer cd. be found in trying to imagine Gollum overcoming temptation. The story would have been quite different! By temporizing, not fixing the still not wholly corrupt Smeagol-will towards good in the debate in the slag hole, he weakened himself for the final chance when dawning love of Frodo was too easily withered by the jealousy of Sam before Shelob's lair. After that he was lost.
There is no special reference to England in the "Shire" - except of course that an Englishman brought up in an "almost rural" village of Warwickshire on the edge of the prosperous bourgeoisie of Birmingham (about the time of the Diamond Jubilee!) I take my models like anyone else - from such "life" as I know. But there is no post-war reference. I am not a "socialist" in any sense - being averse to "planning" (as must be plain) most of all because the "planners", when they acquire power, become so bad - but I would not say that we had to suffer the malice of Sharkey and his Ruffians here. Though the spirit of "Isengard", if not of Mordor, is of course always cropping up. The present design of destroying Oxford in order to accommodate motor-cars is a case. But our chief adversary is a member of a "Tory" Government. But you could apply it anywhere else in these days.
Yes: I think that "victors" can never enjoy the "victory" - not in the terms that they envisaged; and in so far as they fought for something to be enjoyed by themselves (whether acquisition or mere preservation) the less satisfactory will "victory" seem. But the departure of the Ringbearers has quite another side, as far as the Three are concerned. There is, of course, a mythological structure behind this story. It was actually written first, and may now perhaps be in part published. It is, I should say, a "monotheistic" but "sub-creational" mythology. There is no embodiment of the One, of God, who indeed remains remote, outside the World, and only directly accessible to the Valar or Rulers. These take the place of the "gods", but are created spirits, or those of the primary creation who by their own will have entered into the world. (They shared in its "making" - but only on the same terms as we "make" a work of art or story. The realization of it, the gift to it of a created reality of the same grade as their own, was the act of the One God). But the One retains all ultimate authority, and (or so it seems as viewed in serial time) reserves the right to intrude the finger of God into the story: that is to produce realities which could not be deduced even from a complete knowledge of the previous past, but which being real become part of the effective past for all subsequent time (a possible definition of a "miracle"). According to the fable Elves and Men were the first of these intrusions, made indeed while the "story" was still only a story and not "realized"; they were not therefore in any sense conceived or made by the gods, the Valar, and were called the Eruhini or "Children of God", and were for the Valar an incalculable element: that is they were rational creatures of free will in regard to God, of the same historical rank as the Valar, though of far smaller spiritual and intellectual power and status.
Of course, in fact exterior to my story, Elves and men are just different aspects of the Humane, and represent the problem of Death as seen by a finite but willing and self-conscious person. In this mythological world the Elves and men are in their incarnate forms kindred, but in the relation of their "spirits" to the world in time represent different "experiments", each of which has its own natural trend, and weakness. The Elves represent, as it were, the artistic, aesthetic and purely scientific aspects of the Humane nature raised to a higher level than is actually seen in Men. That is: they have a devoted love of the physical world, and a desire to observe and understand it for its own sake and as "other" - sc. as a reality derived from God in the same degree as themselves - not as a material for use or as a power-platform. They also possess a "sub-creational" or artistic faculty of great excellence. They are therefore "immortal". Not "eternally", but to endure with and within the created world, while its story lasts. When "killed", by the injury or destruction of their incarnate form, they do not escape from time, but remain in the world, either discarnate, or being re-born. This becomes a great burden as the ages lengthen, especially in a world in which there is malice and destruction (I have left out the mythological form which Malice or the Fall of the Angels takes in this fable). Mere change as such is not represented as "evil": it is the unfolding of the story and to refuse this is of course against the design of God. But the Elvish weakness is in these terms naturally to regret the past, and to become unwilling to face change: as if a man were to hate a very long book still going on, and wished to settle down in a favorite chapter. Hence they fell in a measure to Sauron's deceits: they desired some "power" over things as they are (whcih is quite distinct from art), to make their particular will to preservation effective: to arrest change, and keep things always fresh and fair. The "Three Rings" were "unsullied", because this object was in a limited way good, it included the healing of the real damage of malice, as well as the mere arrest of change; and the Elves did not desire to dominate other wills, nor to usurp all the world to their particular pleasure.
But with the downfall of "Power" their little efforts at preserving the past fell to bits. There was nothing more in Middle-earth for them, but weariness. So Elrond and Galadriel depart. Gandalf is a special case. He was not the maker or original holder of the Ring - but it was surrendered to him by Cirdan, to assist him in his task. Gandalf was returning, his labor and errand finished, to his home, the land of the Valar.
The passage over the Sea is not Death. The "mythology" is Elf-centered. According to it there was at first an actual Earthly Paradise, home and realm of the Valar, as a physical part of the earth.
There is no "embodiment" of the Creator anywhere in this story or mythology. Gandalf is a 'created" person; though possibly a spirit that existed before in the physical world. His function as a 'wizard" is an angelos or messenger from the Valar or Rulers: to assist the rational creatures of Middle-earth to resist Sauron, a power too great for them unaided. But since in the view of this tale & mythology Power - when it dominates or seeks to dominate other wills and minds (except by the assent of their reason) - is evil, these "wizards" were incarnated in the life-forms of Middle-earth, and so suffered the pains of both mind and body. They were also, for the same reason, thus involved in the peril of the incarnate: the possibility of "fall", of sin, if you will. The chief form this would take with them would be impatience, leading to the desire to force others to their own good ends, and so inevitably at last to mere desire to make their own wills effective by any means. To this evil Saruman succumbed. Gandalf did not. But the situation became so much the worse by the fall of Saruman, that the "good" were obliged to greater effort and sacrifice. Thus Gandalf faced and suffered death; and came back or was sent back, as he says, with enhanced power. But though one may be in this reminded of the Gospels, it is not really the same thing at all. The Incarnation of God is an infinitely greater thing than anything I would dare to write. Here I am only concerned with Death as part of the nature, physical and spiritual, of Man, and with Hope without guarantees. That is why I regard the tale of Arwen and Aragorn as the most important of the Appendices; it is part of the essential story, and is only placed so, because it could not be worked into the main narrative without destroying its structre: which is planned to be "hobbito-centric", that is, primarily a study of the ennoblement (or sanctification) of the humble.
In the film, we see Orcs being "born" out of the mud of the earth. It is as though Sauron is creating them, it seems as though the Orcs are being genetically engineered by the Dark Power, to be his own personal army.
I didn't really get that impression from the book, however - and the letters of Tolkien seem to support that.
Tolkien seems to suggest that Orcs already existed - but they were corrupted by Mordor - and encouraged to do the dirty work of Sauron. They are genetically encouraged by Sauron to be bigger, stronger, more brutal.
But - is this true?
Are Orcs actually created from the mud of the earth, as depicted in the movie? Or - (I feel supremely silly asking this): do Orcs have parents? Are there mummy and daddy Orcs?
What the hell is going on with the Orcs, is basically my question.
For those of you who have no interest whatsoever in Tolkien, I have a couple of things to say.
First off: WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU??
No, just kidding.
Really, what I wanted to say is - I am deeply involved (obviously) in reading his letters right now - and I will be posting them extensively because I cannot seem to help myself.
So if it doesn't interest you - forgive me. The mania will pass.
The letters he wrote to his son Christopher during WWII, while Christopher was stationed in South Africa are astonishing. He sent him chapters of LOTR for Christopher's comments - It seems to me that Tolkien survived those very dark days (not just dark for the world, but dark in the sense that he was separated from his son, and very worried about him - not to mention the fact that Christopher was in the RAF and Tolkien thought the airplane was a monstrous invention - monstrous, at least, in how it was being used during wartime - He was horrified that his son had anything to do with it) - but anyway, it appears that Tolkien made it through those worrisome days by pouring all of his heart into the Ring Trilogy - and sending off excerpts to his son. He says numerous times, "I write this with you in mind."
The letters are incredibly moving.
Here is an excerpt from a letter dated January 30, 1945. I post it because I relate to it - because there is something in me that abhors "gloating" at our enemies - There is something in me that finds that "hoo-yah" blood-lust terrible, indicative of our worst sides as human beings. If we should win, if we should conquer the enemy, then let us not gloat. Because, after all, what separates us from beasts, is our ability to have compassion for others. Even people on the "other side". What separates us from beasts is the ability to have feeling in our hearts for people we do not know.
Not to say that there should not be punishment, that justice should not be done, but to gloat happily in the face of the enemy's downfall is an ugly emotion, an ugly thing - It does not suit us. It does not suit the nobility of our cause. We must approach victory with solemnity, and sadness, I would say.
Sadness that it has come to this.
Peggy Noonan wrote a column in September of 2002 called "What's Missing in the Iraq Debate". It struck me at such a deep level - that I recall parts of it almost word for word.
The Democrats on Capitol Hill have so far failed to mount a principled, coherent opposition. I am not shocked by this, are you? One senses they are looking at the whole question merely as a matter of popular positioning: Will they like me if I say take out Saddam? Will they get mad at me if we try to take him out and it's a disaster? Will they like me if I say there's no reason to go to war? Have I focus-grouped this? Such unseriousness is potentially deeply destructive. It is certainly irresponsible. And here's the funny thing: If some Democrat stood up and spoke thoughtfully and without regard for political consequences about what is right for us to do, he'd likely garner enhanced respect and heightened standing. He'd seem taller than his colleagues. At any rate, more than usual, I am missing Pat Moynihan and Sam Nunn.Members of the administration, on the other hand, seem lately almost inebriated with a sense of mission. And maybe that's inevitable when the stakes are high and you're sure you're right. But in off-the-cuff remarks and unprepared moments the president and some of his men often seem to have missing within them a sense of the tragic. Which is odd because we're talking about war, after all. Leaders can't lead by moping, but a certain, well, solemnity, I suppose, might be well received by many of us.
This letter from JRR Tolkien to his son speaks to our higher selves.
30 January 1945
Russians 60 miles from Berlin. It does look as if something decisive might happen soon. The appalling destruction and misery of this war mount hourly: destruction of what should be (indeed is) the common wealth of Europe, and the world, if mankind were not so besotted, wealth the loss of which will affect us all, victors or not. Yet people gloat to hear of the endless lines, 40 miles long, of miserable refugees, women and children pouring West, dying on the way. There seem no bowels of mercy or compassion, no imagination, left in this dark diabolic hour. By which I do not mean that it may not all, in the present situation, mainly (not solely) created by Germany, be necessary and inevitable. But why gloat! We were supposed to have reached a stage of civilization in which it might still be necessary to execute a criminal, but not to gloat, or to hang his wife and child by him while the orc-crowd hooted. The destruction of Germany, be it 100 times merited, is one of the most appalling world-catastrophes. Well, well - you and I can do nothing about it. And that shd. be a measure of the amount of guilt that can justly be assumed to attach to any member of a country who is not a member of its actual Government. Well the first War of the Machines seems to be drawing to its final inconclusive chapter - leaving, alas, everyone the poorer, many bereached or maimed and millions dead, and only one thing triumphant: the Machines. As the servants of the Machines are becoming a privileged class, the Machines are going to be enormously more powerful. What's their next move?
Mark Steyn is pointing to the letter Tolkien wrote to the German publishers that I posted yesterday ... Welcome to all who are getting to me through that link (and it looks like there are a bunch of you.)
This is a letter JRR Tolkien wrote to his son Chistopher, in November of 1943
"My political opinions lean more and more to Anarchy (philosophically understood, meaning abolition of control, not whiskered men with bombs) - or to 'unconstitutional' Monarchy. I would arrest anybody who uses the word State (in any sense other than the inanimate realm of England and its inhabitants, a thing that has neither power, rights nor mind); and after a chance of recantation, execute them if they remained obstinate! If we could get back to personal names, it would do a lot of good. Government is an abstract noun meaning the art and process of governing and it should be an offence to write it with a capital G or so as to refer to people. If people were in the habit of referring to 'King George's council, Winston and his gang,' it would go a long way to clearing thought, and reducing the frightful landslide into Theyocracy.
Anyway the proper study of Man is anything but Man; and the most improper job of any man, even saints (who at any rate were at least unwilling to take it on), is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity. And at least it is done only to a small group of men who know who their master is. The medievals were only too right in taking nolo episcopari ['I do not wish to be made a bishop'] as the best reason a man could give to others for making him a bishop ...
Well, cheers and all that to you dearest son. We were born in a dark age out of due time (for us). But there is this comfort: otherwise we should not know, or so much love, what we do love. I imagine the fish out of water is the only fish to have an inkling of water. Also we have still small swords to use. 'I will not bow before the Iron Crown, nor cast my own small golden sceptre down.' Have at the Orcs, with winged words, hildenaeddran (war-adders), biting darts - but make sure of the mark, before shooting."
This amazing letter reminds me of one of my favorite movies - ELECTION. A wicked satire about the political process. You should see it, if you haven't already. In it - the point is made: those who choose to be leaders, early on in high school, are those destined to be our leaders as adults. And who ever liked those people in the first place?
This is from a letter JRR Tolkien wrote to his son, Michael, in June of 1941
"People in this land seem not even yet to realize that in the Germans we have enemies whose virtues (and they are virtues) of obedience and patriotism are greater than ours in the mass. Whose brave men are just about as brave as ours. Whose industry is about 10 times greater. And who are - under the curse of God - now led by a man inspired by a mad, whirlwind, devil: a typhoon, a passion: that makes the poor old Kaiser look like an old woman knitting.
I have spent most of my life, since I was your age, studying Germanic matters (in the general sense that includes England and Scandinavia). There is a great deal more force (and truth) than ignorant people imagine in the 'Germanic' ideal. I was much attracted by it as an undergraduate (when Hitler was, I suppose, dabbling in paint, and had not heard of it), in reaction against the 'Classics'. You have to understand the good in things, to detect the real evil. But no one ever calls on me to 'broadcast', or do a postscript! Yet I suppose I know better than most what is the truth about this 'Nordic' nonsense. Anyway, I have in this War a burning private grudge - which would probably make me a better soldier at 49 than I was at 22: against that ruddy little ignoramus Adolf Hitler (for the odd thing about demonic inspiration and impetus is that it in no way enhances the purely intellectual stature: it chiefly affects the mere will). Ruining, perverting, misapplying, and making for ever accursed, that noble northern spirit, a supreme contribution to Europe, which I have ever loved, and tried to present in its true light."
You have to understand the good in things, to detect the real evil.
"I have begun again on the sequel to the 'Hobbit' - The Lord of the Ring. It is now flowing along, and getting quite out of hand. It has reached about Chapter VII and progresses towards quite unforeseen goals. I must say I think it is a good deal better in places and some ways than the predecessor; but that does not say that I think it either more suitable or more adapted for its audience. For one thing it is, like my own children (who have the immediate serial rights), rather 'older'. I can only say that Mr. [C.S.] Lewis (my stout backer of the Times and T.L.S.) professes himself more than pleased. If the weather is wet in the next fortnight we may have got still further on. But it is no bed-time story."
--letter of JRR Tolkien to Allen & Unwin, his publisher, 31 August 1938
I love the understatement of that. "Out of hand" indeed. If he could see the LOTR mania now, he would truly understand how "out of hand" it all is.
And the last sentence kills me. "...it is no bed-time story..."
The German publishing firm of Rutten & Loening contacted Allen & Unwin in 1938 (the publishers of The Hobbit) and wanted to negotiate with them for a German translation of the book. But first and foremost, they wanted to know if Tolkien was of "arisch" origin. (Aryan) Tolkien wrote a brief note to Stanley Unwin, saying that he wanted to refuse to give them an answer - He didn't want to add to "the wholly pernicious and unscientific race-doctrine" by comfirming or denying. However - he didn't want to ruin his chances of The Hobbit being read in Germany. He submitted to Mr. Unwin two drafts of letters to the German publishers, and left it up to Unwin to decide.
Here is one of the drafts: (I read it and wanted to cheer, "You tell 'em, J.R.R!")
25 July 1938
To Rutten & Loening Verlag
Dear Sirs,
Thank you for your letter ... I regret that I am not clear as to what you intend by arisch. I am not of Aryan extraction: that is Indo-iranian; as far as I am aware noone of my ancestors spoke Hindustani, Persian, Gypsy, or any related dialects. But if I am to understand that you are enquiring whether I am of Jewish origin, I can only reply that I regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people. My great-great-grandfather came to England in the eighteenth century from Germany: the main part of my descent is therefore purely English, and I am an English subject - which should be sufficient. I have been accustomed, nonetheless, to regard my German name with pride, and continued to do so throughout the period of the late regrettable war, in which I served in the English army. I cannot, however, forbear to comment that if impertinent and irrelevant inquiries of this sort are to become the rule in matters of literature, then the time is not far distant when a German name will no longer be a source of pride.
Your enquiry is doubtless made in order to comply with the laws of your own country, but that this should be held to apply to the subjects of another state would be improper, even if it had (as it has not) any bearing whatsoever on the merits of my work or its sustainability for publication, of which you appear to have satisfied yourselves without reference to my Abstammung.
I trust you will find this reply satisfactory, and remain yours faithfully
J.R.R. Tolkien
So I have begun the letters of JRR Tolkien (thank you, Ann Marie!!). I will definitely have to post some excerpts here.
I love reading letters of writers, anyway. Gives me chills - to hear a writer discuss what will end up being a great or a classic work of literature - and the writer has no idea of what is to come.
Lucy Maud Montgomery's letters are like that. Her journals, too. She will write, "I am working on something now which is very different for me. It's about a little red-headed orphan girl. This will be different - there will be no moral to the story. It will just be the story of what happens to this little girl."
She had made her success in writing short stories with major morals to them - things that could be taught in Sunday school. She was sick of it. She wanted to write about human beings. She didn't think anyone would read it, she didn't even think it would get published.
And lo and behold, it turned out to be Anne of Green Gables.
Tolkien's letters, so far, give me the same chill.
He has completed The Hobbit and people are already wondering: What next? What happens to the Hobbits next? He had not written The Hobbit for there to be a sequel. He was stuck. But then in a letter to his publisher he says, "Here is the first chapter of a new book about Hobbits. It's called 'A Long Expected Party'. Give it to your son to read - let me know what he thinks."
A Long Expected Party is the first chapter of the Ring trilogy.
I also just LOVE how he wants a child to read it. Children are the true judges. Look at what happened to Harry Potter!!
My co-worker went home yesterday with a stomach bug. He seemed quite out of it. I said, "Dude, I'm sorry you're not feeling well."
He said, "Yeah, yesterday I felt more spacy - the cold was more in my head - but today - it's like my stomach is a vast endless plain - and suddenly, with no warning, armies of horses go galloping by, churning up the dirt with their hooves."
We sat silently. I contemplated his metaphor, which seemed quite apt, having had the stomach flu before.
Then he said, "Can you tell that I'm reading Return of the King right now?"
One brief comment:
The character of Eowyn in the film is completely unrecognizable from the character that Tolkien wrote.
So far as I can tell, this is the most extreme example, when comparing the movie and the book.
I'm not talking about what was left out, the scenes in the Houses of Healing, etc. I'm really talking about the actual spirit of the character, the INTENT of the character. Characters do have souls, you know. And Eowyn's soul in the film appears to be warm, lusty, restless, emotional. Am I wrong on this? She wants to go to war because she is restless. That is basically the message I got from the film. She doesn't want to live in a "cage". Modern-day female audiences are suppoed to relate to that, I guess.
In the book, Eowyn is cold. The word "frost" is used repeatedly. There is actually something wrong with her - and I mean, inside. Something has hardened within her. She cannot accept softness. She cannot accept a hand outstretched. And when Aragorn does not return her love - she decides that death would be her only attractive choice. It's not a feministic struggle against the ties that bind women to the home - or, at least it's not just that. She has a wounded soul, and yet she does not allow herself any weakness - She is cold, as Tolkien tells us again and again.
Not by any stretch of the imagination could the character as depicted in the film be portrayed as COLD. As a matter of fact, it is just the opposite. She comes off as impulsive, loving, emotional - Her soul shines through her face.
Eowyn in the book would never be so open. At the end of the book, in the Houses of Healing, is when Faramir finally cracks through the ice. She is not well, she is not healing - I suppose Tolkien suggests that this is so because there is something wrong in her psyche. A coldness, a hardness - She cannot accept Faramir's love, she wants no pity - she only wants death. She yearns for death.
What - a movie audience couldn't accept a young woman who is cold, frosty, unemotional - and yet who also deeply loves Aragorn and is devastated when he doesn't return her feelings - and yet who also has a deep death wish ...?
I think they could.
I actually related more to the Eowyn in the book. She's tragic. Her soul has turned to ice. She hates her life - she hates having been born "in the body of a maid" as Faramir says - and if she can't have the love of one man, then she chooses death. She wants glory, she wants to have something BIG happen to her. But the quest does not enliven her, the quest for having something BIG happen to her does not envigorate her, or make her excited - It turns her to ice. That's a very human thing. I loved her.
One of the characters a bit short-changed by the film (at least in terms of the largeness of his part in the book) is Faramir.
Faramir has quickly become one of my all-time favorite characters I have met in these books. The actor they cast to play him was perfect, I think - because the kindness, and the sadness of his face filled in all the details you needed. Just looking at him - you knew he was kind. And also capable of great bravery. But that there was a sadness there as well. The casting did all the work. (This is not a criticism. This is praise. 90% of any successful film is casting well.)
But reading the book - and just coming out of the extraordinary sequence when Faramir and his men come across Frodo and Sam and Gollum (well, at first it's just Frodo and Sam - they see Gollum splashing about in the pool later that night) - I see how much was left out.
Faramir, so far, is the character who has "gotten" to me at the deepest level. There's something about how he speaks - and how he and Frodo circle around one another warily - testing each other - a battle of the wills ... But again - I think that Faramir has a type of language, a type of speech, not used by other characters in the book as of yet, and I am sure that this is deliberate.
It's very emotional, very portentous ... It got me at my throat, if you catch my meaning.
The scene in the secret cave with the men of Gondor is, so far, one of my favorite ones in the whole book - and it's not even really included in the movie. Faramir is unfolding in the book as one of its most sympathetic and interesting characters.
Here's the scene in the cave - when Frodo finally reveals that he carries the One Ring.
"Alas for Boromir! It was too sore a trial!" [Faramir] said. "How you have increased my sorrow, you two strange wanderers from a far country, bearing the peril of Men! But you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings. We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. Not if I found it on the highway would I take it I said. Even if I wsere suc h a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as a vow, and be held by them.But I am not such a man. Or I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, thing that it was fated to be so. Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. For strange though it may seem, it was safe to declare this to me. It may even help the master that you love. It shall turn to his good, if it is in my power. So be comforted. But do not even name this thing again aloud. Once is enough."
The hobbits came back to their seats and sat very quiet...
"Well, Frodo, now at last we understand one another," said Faramir. "If you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others' asking, then you have pity and honour from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use it. You are a new people and a new world to me. Are all your kin of like sort? Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must gardeners be in high honour."
"Not all is well there," said Frodo, "but certainly gardeners are honoured."
"But folk must grow weary there, even in their gardens, as do all things under the Sun of this world. And you are far from home and wayworn. No more tonight. Sleep, both of you - in peace, if you can. Fear not! I do not wish to see it, or touch it, or know more of it than I know (which is enough), lest peril perchance waylay me and I fall lower in the test than Frodo son of Drogo. Go now to rest - but first tell me only, if you will, whither you wish to go, and what to do. For I must watch, and wait, and think. Time passes. In the morning we must each go swiftly on the ways appointed to us."
Frodo had felt himself trembling as the first shock of fear passed. Now a great weariness came down on him like a cloud. He could dissemble and resist no longer.
"I was going to find a way into Mordor," he said faintly. "I was going to Gorgoroth. I must find the Mountain of Fire and cast the thing into the gulf of Doom. Gandalf said so. I do not think I shall ever get there."
Faramir stared at him for a moment in grave astonishment. Then suddenly he caught him as he swayed, and lifting him gently, carried him to the bed and laid him there, and covered him warmly. At once he fell into a deep sleep.
Another bed was set beside him for his servant. Sam hesitated for a moment, then bowing very low: "Good night, Captain, my lord," he said. "You took the chance, sir."
"Did I so?" said Faramir.
"Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest."
Faramir smiled. "A pert servant, Master Samwise. But nay: the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was naught in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done."
"Ah well, sir," said Sam, "you said my master had an elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of -- well, Gandalf, of wizards."
"Maybe," said Faramir. "Maybe you discern from far away the air of Numenor. Good night!"
For those of you completely uninterested in the Ring Trilogy, my apologies. I want to talk about it a bit more.
I am now on the chapter "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol" - Frodo, Sam and Gollum are starting up the mountain pass. I know that there is a giant "s" in the next chapter. I am prepared.
I can see now why people get so addicted to these books, so obsessed by the world created, that they can barely read anything else. They want to spend their whole lives making Middle Earth become clearer and clearer and clearer ... no detail too small. Even if there weren't a ton of maps of Middle Earth in the back of my book, I could picture it in my mind, North South East West, because that's how Tolkien writes - The road-map is in the writing.
So you read, and you can follow along, literally step by step.
If you have a mind that loves details, that is susceptible to the mathematical beauty of things making sense - then these books are a whirlpool that will suck you in. By "things making sense" I mean this: A place-name is mentioned in the Trilogy. I have never heard of it before. I look it up in the Index - and there is a list of page-numbers, where this place-name is discussed in the trilogy. Then I look on the map, and lo and behold, it is on the map. So suddenly - with all of this back-up - I can SEE what Tolkien has been talking about. There is no detail too small. Everything is on those maps, and everything is in the Index. It's rigorous reading%2
I have rarely had so much FUN with a book. The last time I read them I was 4 1/2 feet tall and weighed 82 pounds, and rode to school on a yellow bus. Come to think of it, I probably read some of these books ON the school bus itself.
So - woah. I am completely LOVING reading it again - after so long - as an adult. Parts of it are so complex (the historical information, the long lines of names and events, etc.) I am shocked that I was able to tolerate much of it. (However, I also read All the President's Men when I was 11 years old, and somehow kept track of Howard Hunt and John Dean and Haldeman, and memos and unwilling witnesses...)
I love looking at the maps. I love the huge indexes in my book where I look stuff up. I love the appendices.
And the story ...
I am loving getting to know the story again. It has reiterated, for me, how astonishing the films are. How much they were able to get in.
For example - the incident at "Weathertop", with the Wraiths coming upon the Hobbits. The Hobbits are then saved at the last minute by Aragorn, waving a flaming piece of firewood at the Wraiths. That scene was so truthfully rendered in the movie - and by that I mean - Peter Jackson respected the original text so much, he loved the original tale so much, that he didn't add too much to it. He didn't mess it up. The only thing he added was that Aragorn took off for a look-around, and the Hobbits lit up a fire - which attracted the Wraiths' attention. In the book, as they climb up Weathertop, Frodo begins to have an overwhelming sense of dread. He feels that something terrible is coming. Really what is going on is that the Ring is starting to work on him. The Ring is starting to sap him, and starting to make him more aware of the enemy.
I suppose Jackson didn't want the Ring to start dominating Frodo too early in the trilogy - since it's rather difficult to sustain, cinematically - especially over 3 separate movies.
But anyway - I am having the best time. With this beloved book from my childhood.
I have just finished the section where they stay at Lorien, and Frodo looks in Galadriel's mirror - and the elves give them boats to start off on their journey down-river.
I can't get enough.
I have picked up The Hobbit again after ... it must be 25 years. I haven't read it since I was a kid. I am having the time of my life. I found that I still had the first paragraph in my head, almost word for word.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
I remember what the book looked like when I was a kid - It had a drawing on the cover, of a green hill, with a little round door stuck in the middle of it, and smoke coming up out of a teeny little chimney. It was magic. The book I have now is a bit more literal - it looks like a painting by Turner or somebody ... only there is also a drawing of Gandalf, stalking towards one particular hill, with his tall staff, and if you look closely you can see the little round door.
The book is as I remembered it. It's like candy. You want to eat it up as quickly as possible. I loved all of those funny grumpy little dwarves when I was a kid - with their different colored hats and tassels ... I remember during one particularly obsessive moment, in order to keep them all straight, I took notes.
Like this:
Dwalin: blue beard, golden belt, dark-green hood
Balin: white beard, scarlet hood
Dori: purple hood, gold and silver belt
The little obsessive in me loved the detail, loved the adjectives. LOVED IT.
And Jesus, if I thought the battle with the "s" was terrifying in ROTK - I had completely blocked out the battle between the dwarves and the entire flock of "s"s, when they left the path in Mirkwood. (What does one call a group of "s"s? A herd? God, the very thought gives me shivers.)
Bilbo Baggins kills me.
Tolkein is a genius.
Bilbo, the little home-bound gardening staid hobbit, is chosen. He is not ready to be chosen. He doesn't want to have adventures. He is unprepared to do things like climb trees, run from Wargs, and slay an entire flock of "s"s. But ... with much grumbling and moaning, with much "Oh, I wish it were YESTERDAY" - he rises to the task.
Isn't that what all great stories are truly made of?
We can see ourselves in Bilbo. We love to sit at home, by a nice crackling fire, having soup, and ale, conversing with friends, enjoying the moonlight. We don't want to race down stony hills, fleeing from angry goblins, we don't want to venture into pitch-black caves and meet creatures like Gollum who want to eat us alive ... and yet if we were called upon to do these things, if the stakes were high, if we knew that we were "chosen" - perhaps we too would step up to the task at hand.
Like Bilbo does, time and time again.
Here's a brief piece on what Peter Jackson changed when translating Tolkein's books to the big screen.
Not to take away from the accomplishment of the film. It's actually a very interesting question: what works on film, as opposed to on the printed page? What can you NOT convey? And why?
When I have seen movies made of books that I LOVED (Possession is one example) I hover covetously over the printed version, which is so dear to me. Do not mess with a book I love. Do not do it.
My feelings about some books are so strong that if movies WERE made of these books, I would not go to see them. (Catcher in the Rye. I also will never see Catch 22. Why bother? Just read the book.)
But then - sometimes - a filmmaker comes along - who GETS the book - who gets it in perhaps a deeper way than the readers ... who can illuminate the themes of the book in a cinematic, as opposed to a literary, way. Who can capture the SPIRIT of the book - which, after all, is the most precious thing.
The "Anne of Green Gables" series, with Colleen Dewhurst, is a great example. Those books are not just loved. Those books are CHERISHED. People LOVE those books. In the same fanatical way that others love Tolkein. (Right, Ann? Member you and me in the car? "I know his dog's name is Carlo.")
But that series was absolutely wonderful. Even huge LM Montgomery gans approved.
I admit, I didn't like the changes they made in the later episodes - They clearly took events from LM Montgomery's other books, and put them into the "Anne" story. Anne becoming a published novelist, for example. Anne Shirley never published a novel. That was Emily Starr's job, in the "Emily" series.
But anyway.
These are nitpicking points from a huge fan. I felt those filmmakers captured the SPIRIT of those magical books. They did not betray the spirit, the intent, the characters. (Although Marilla Cuthbert is repeatedly referred to as "thin", and Colleen Dewhurst, bless her soul, was anything but "thin"!) However: Dewhurst inhabited the SPIRIT of the Marilla in the book - and for that, I loved her performance.
And one final thought: there are some movies made of novels which far surpass the emotional impact of the book.
Ordinary People is an awesome example. It's a good book, it's okay, nothing spectacular. But the MOVIE. It added things never written of in the book - it invented scenes - (like the painful scene where they try to take a family photograph - one of the best scenes in the film - it wasn't in the book AT ALL). Robert Redford took an okay book and made it into a powerhouse film.
Any thoughts about all of this?
The film is magnificent. An awe-some accomplishment. It is really the Hobbits' movie. It is Sam's movie. He is the star of it. In my opinion. It is his journey that focuses the entire event. He goes through the most radical transformation (which is what makes a great character). You watch him become a man.
Go, Hobbits!!
And the city of Minas Tirith ...
I don't think I've ever seen anything so extraordinary. It's a miracle, what they have created.
There is a long extended scene where Gandalf gallops through the city on his white stallion - and ... you cannot tell what is digitally created, what is not. The city of Minas Tirith lives and breathes. It is REAL. A real WORLD.
The special effects are stunning, of course, but they didn't skimp on the character development (well - except for the female characters who are uniformly one-dimensional) - But all the rest: Sam and Pippin and Gandalf - and Denethor - the mad king - He is AMAZING. Who IS that actor? He created a villain worthy of the name.
Great accomplishment. Hats off, to all involved.
And I kept my eyes closed for the entire "S" sequence, which seemed to go on forever.
Ah well. I slept like a baby last night. If I had watched anything involving the giant "S", I would have been up all night, twitching, turning on the lights, moving furniture to peek behind it, all kinds of arachnophobic nonsense.
So - excuse me while I scream: TOMORROW!!!!!
But anyway - I wanted to prevail upon my readers, intelligent well-read outspoken people, the lot of you - to talk to me about Tolkein. Dave J. (one of these awesome readers) made a comment in my post below, "The Battle of the Rings" - which I wanted to respond to - but then figured I would put it in a post instead.
I have read The Hobbit, and The Ring Trilogy - but not much about Tolkein the man.
He was a medievalist, correct? That bit of information came from my dad.
But here are my questions - Respond to them as you see fit. Consider this a Tolkein free-for-all.
Did he see The Ring trilogy as an allegory? Was he interested in illuminating present-day events through his stories of Middle Earth?
Bill? Can you speak to that?
Or did he see them as "merely" stories?
What was his impetus to write these books? I had heard stories of him scribbling ideas down on napkins, and scraps of paper, in the trenches of World War I, to send home to his wife.
Is this true?
Was he an escapist?
Talk to me about Tolkein.
An extensive essay by Alex Ross in The New Yorker, comparing and contrasting the two "rings" - Wagner's "Ring of the Nibelung" and Tolkein's Ring triology.
The essay is rather dense - and I am not as familiar with Wagner's work as I am with Tolkein's - but nevertheless, it is quite an interesting read. I highly recommend it.
It starts thus:
Early in “The Fellowship of the Ring,” the first film in Peter Jackson’s monumental “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, the wizard Gandalf finds himself alone in a room with the trinket that could end the world. It lies gleaming on the floor, and Gandalf regards it with an attitude of fascinated fear. The audience feels a chill that neither Jackson’s vertiginous camera angles nor Ian McKellen’s arching eyebrows can fully explain. The Ring of Power extends its grip through the medium of music, which is the work of the gifted film composer Howard Shore. In the preceding scenes, an overview of the habits of hobbits, Shore’s music had an English-pastoral, dance-around-the-Maypole air, but when the ring begins to do its work a Wagnerian tinge creeps in—fittingly, since “The Lord of the Rings” dwells in the shadow of Wagner’s even more monumental “Ring of the Nibelung.” J. R. R. Tolkien’s fans have long maintained a certain conspiracy of silence concerning Wagner, but there is no point in denying his influence, not when characters deliver lines like “Ride to ruin and the world’s ending!”—Brünnhilde condensed to seven words.Shore manages the admirable feat of summoning up a Wagnerian atmosphere without copying the original. He knows the science of harmonic dread. First, he lets loose an army of minor triads, or three-note chords in the minor mode. They immediately cast a shadow over the major-key music of the happy hobbits.
I found especially riveting Ross' discussion of why chords in a "major" key make us feel happy, hopeful, and what it is in "minor" formations that makes us feel uneasy.
Why does the minor chord make the heart hang heavy? First, you have to understand why the major triad, its fair-haired companion, sounds “bright.” It is based on the spectrum of notes that arise naturally from a vibrating string. If you pluck a C and then divide the string in half, in thirds, in fourths, and so on, you will hear one by one the clean notes that spell C major. Wagner’s “Ring” begins with a demonstration: from one deep note, wave upon wave of majestic harmony flows. The C-minor triad, however, has a more obscure connection to “natural” sound. The middle note comes from much higher in the overtone series. It sets up grim vibrations in the mind.
Wow - that's all I can say.
Any musicologists out there care to comment? I would love to hear more.