writerofrunes

And here Tolkien's Christianity shines through the text. The first scene in this chapter is so densely packed with spiritual metaphors. The depth present in these pages astounded me as I read it today and really shows why this is an enduring piece of literature (beyond the dramatic narrative and timeless themes and etc.)

First, Gandalf's discussion with Frodo about the Morgul blade that almost pierced Frodo's heart is such a brilliant metaphor for the persistent quality of sin. The tip of the blade "was deeply buried, and ... working its way inward," and tried to place Frodo under Sauron's dominance where "[Sauron] would have tormented [Frodo] for trying to keep his Ring" by drawing him little by little into the wraith-world. In the same way, we see the effects of a persistent vice taking its toll on an individual. Whether it be alcoholism, gambling, pornography — all the usual suspects — or something more mundane like a lack of motivation, a surly attitude, or an absence of honesty, some sins seem to have a firmer grip on our lives than others.

And it doesn't matter what the particular sin is in an individual's life. We are each unique individuals and so it follows that our particular, personal struggle would manifest itself in a manner specially designed to catch our attention, get under our skin, and be forgotten. Once there, it begins to burrow closer and closer to our heart as it becomes more and more an aspect of ourselves instead of the outside intruder we should be treating it as. Instead of a prompt expulsion and active attempt at keeping this blade tip away, once its under our skin we tend to let it sit there for a moment, thinking "oh, this isn't so bad," until it has had a chance to make itself at home, which is when we say to ourselves "you know, I think I kind of like you after all." Already it has begun to poison our mind by suggesting to us that it is a friend, albeit a bit harsh at first but now ready to make our lives pleasurable.

This is, of course, a lie. And it is, at this point, that we require the mind's equivalent of intensive surgery. As Gandalf says, "I suspected that there was some fragment of the blade still in the closed wound. But it could not be found until last night. Then Elrond removed the splinter." In the same way, we are powerless to remove our own contamination once it has burrowed so deep that we do not recognize its existence. We need the assistance of those wiser than us or closest to us in order to find it and remove it from our lives. Though, like Frodo, we may never be "whole" again afterwards, we will not live if we allow such a thing to persist.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

End of Book 1. Excellent.

Hello, everyone. I know it has been a while since I posted. I decided that, during the Christmas season, I would take a break from Lord of the Rings in order to finish up my school semester and then spend time with my family. Now that we're back at school and reasonably settled, it's time to start back in on this project.

Let us do so with a few thoughts on the entirety of the first book.

As I have mentioned several times already, this portion of the story seems to be largely devoted to establishing the innocence of the hobbits, their world, and their lifestyle. So many idyllic scenes and settings are sprinkled amongst these pages that we accept the happiness of the hobbits immediately, despite their ignorance to the dangers of the world. There are, however, numerous moments of danger, menace, horror, and general unease in this book. And the tone of the narrative is moving in a more and more ominous direction as we draw nearer to the end of Frodo's initial journey and the beginning of his actual quest.

Frodo is an element of the story that I would like to talk about a bit more. In this particular phase of the story we find a distinct disparity between the books and the movies. It is one of my larger regrets that the movie chose to portray Frodo as, for all intents and purposes, a youth. While this does give the audience an embodiment of the innocence that the hobbits feel during this phase of their journey, it makes Frodo far less admirable for having to be taken care of like a child. Frodo's lack of competence during this phase of the movies does allow for a greater range of character development across the trilogy (for those who are wondering, he does take on a more somber and learned tone as the movies go on.) However, I still feel as if we are losing some manner of anchoring characteristic in Frodo that makes him an actual person instead of "the audience's eyes" in the story by implementing this choice. (Brief definition. "The Audience's Eyes" is a term I am using to a character in a movie whose experiences, emotions, or opinions are more or less designed to reflect what the director wants the audience to think, feel, or believe at any point in the story.)

To contrast, thus far in the book Frodo has displayed an equal share of competence and foolishness, which makes him a far more relatable character. Much like ourselves, he has his dumb mistakes and ignorant notions (such as his attempt at distracting the patrons of the Prancing Pony, which led to even greater problems when he grew too confident.) However, he has also had his acts of heroism to help balance out those moments and give us a reason to believe that he can carry this through to the end (such as his confrontation with the Nazgul at the Fords of Bruinen where he defies them despite being weak from the wraith-wound.) That, ultimately, is what I feel we lose by the movie's portrayal of Frodo. We have very little confidence in his ability to carry out the brave things he promises to do. And I suppose this is fitting, as it did allow them to emphasize Sam's faithfulness to a degree that would not have been possible otherwise, but we still have to believe that Frodo can carry his burden to a certain point. I'm just not sure if I get that kind of resolve from the movie's portrayal.

Regardless, we continue. For those who want to know, my plan is to read one book a month. The first few weeks will be devoted to Lord of the Rings (with daily chapter reflections,) while the second half of the month will be devoted to my other reading (George R.R. Martin, C.S. Lewis, and a smattering of others for those who were wondering.) Then, at the end of each month, I will post my reflections on the book as a whole before diving into the first chapter of the next one. Thus, I should be finished with this project by... the end of June. Yes.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

This is where we find the first example of just how different the movies are from the books. (I could go into movie-making philosophy vs. book-writing philosophy and how Tolkien does or does not fulfill either one, but I'm not feeling up to it at the moment.)

In the movie, this scene is portrayed as a harrowing chase of a few miles - akin to a car chase in the most action-packed of thrillers - across a brief stint of Middle-earth's geography, culminating in a showdown by the river. It's a race against time as Frodo is essentially comatose while Arwen (a character not yet important in the books) is responsible for saving the quest.

In the book, we find Aragorn and the hobbits struggling for days to evade the Nazgul's tracking efforts as they employ all the tricks and skills that they can muster (so we are told.) Aragorn's skill as a ranger is pushed to the limit as he tries to simultaneously guide and hide the hobbits. Though, in the end, they require assistance from a great elven lord in order for Frodo to reach safety.

The thing about movies is that they're fast-paced. You have to fit a great deal of information into a small amount of time. It is very difficult to show that it has been a long time in a movie without taking a long time to do so. However, the audience doesn't want to sit there for an hour while you recap every day of the character's life over the past month of the story. You have to find a clever way to show that passage of time (whether by a subtitle or a montage) without boring your audience.

In a book, however, you can use a variety of narrative techniques to give the impression that time is passing. Heck, you can even come out and say that X amount of time has passed and Y is what happened during that time. In addition, the mere fact that it takes longer to do anything in text than it does to do so in film means that the reader is going to feel the physical passage of time far more acutely than the viewer will. (After all, some argue, if you're audience notices the time, you're not doing your job well.) Books, of course, have there own dangers and weaknesses when compared with film, but I think I've said enough for one day and will thus endeavor to discuss those differences on some other occasion.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

And here we discover one of the characteristic elements of Tolkien's magic: The Power of Words.

As a side-note, though, I suppose I should mention a few things about magic in the world of Middle-Earth. Namely, it doesn't actually do anything. The world is magical, yes. Magic is used as a plot-device, yes. There are many instances in which magic is either used or somehow affects the course of the story, yes. But magic cannot fix any of the characters' problems. That's kind of the point. It's more of a dramatic or theatrical element than it is a set of tools for the characters to fall back on when necessary.

All that being said, there are a few elements of magic that are of particular importance in Middle-Earth and, of course, there are situations where magic is used to benefit certain characters (it's just more likely to come at a high cost or cause greater problems in the long run. See Book 2, Chapter V for one of many examples.) In this chapter we find the Power of Words making a significant appearance.

There is a branch of both philosophy and public opinion that words, names in particular, mean something. Some parents will consider a name for their child based on its meaning or connotations or the number of famous and successful individuals there are with the name before deciding on one. As an English major, I can verify that certain words carry more weight in one situation than in another, and that almost every single one has a unique impact on the reader. Obtain is different from appropriate which is different from confiscate which is different from steal which is different from buy which is different from purchase which is different from pay for. They all say the same basic thing, but each one is also distinct. They conjure different thoughts and images when used and have the power to impress on you one idea or another.

Random usage rant aside. Words have power, and this is even more apparent in the Lord of the Rings, where some words have an almost magical effect. We find two major examples in this chapter.

The first is Aragorn's constant insistence to avoid saying the name of Sauron's dark land: Mordor. Each time a character is about to say the word, Aragorn interrupts and says "No!" along with an explanation that the servants of the enemy are close. Thus, we can assume that this word has some sort of effect, whether supernatural or mundane. It could simply be that Aragorn does not wish for his companions to conjure up thoughts of that dreaded land while they are near danger, or it could be that the word itself is a beacon for the forces of evil.

Even if there is a mundane explanation, however, it still stands as a testament to the power of words. The land of Mordor carries such a bleak reputation that the mere utterance of its name is enough to dishearten even the bravest of individuals.

Our second major example is during the Nazgul attack. When Frodo cries out in supplication "O, Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" and he is emboldened to strike at his foes. Though he is pierced by their blade soon after, it was enough to help Frodo overcome his terror and prevent him from standing motionless in the face of his enemy. Thus, it may have saved his life. Also, while there may or may not be anything magical about these two names, it is difficult to argue that it (and many examples of similar cries in time of need throughout the story) did not have an effect. Battle cries are a common element of fictional battles and often encourage the character or his companions to greater heights of valor.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

Ah, Aragorn. Such fun. Here is where we begin to complete the rest of our primary cast of characters. This is the man who is going to carry all of Book 3 on his shoulders, and most of books II and V as well. He needs to be a well-established and impressive character. And Tolkien delivers.

A lot of people point out the well-defined lines between good and evil in the Lord of the Rings. All orcs are bad. All elves are good. And the humans are generally pretty nice guys. While this is especially true in the later parts of the story, here in the beginning we are presented with an enormous amount of ambiguity. Is Butterbur a decent guy, despite his inattentiveness? Is this Strider a friend, or is he as dangerous as everyone says? (And is that a good or a bad thing? More on that in a later chapter, I imagine.) What about the other men in Bree? If Aragorn and Barliman are decent chaps, then why not trust the other folks? Oh... because Bill Ferny is a swarthy, sneering fellow.

There is a surprising amount of variety and dispute concerning the alleged goodness and evilness of these characters (particularly amongst mankind, but that is definitely a discussion for a later chapter.) I imagine that this fact is begin emphasized in this early part of the story because we are, more or less, approaching the world from the hobbits' point of view and, for all they know, everyone but a hobbit is a dangerous and potentially untrustworthy fellow. (Well, and sometimes not even the hobbits are trustworthy. See Sackville-Baggins.)

However, even though this uncertainty of motivation is emphasized in these chapters, by no means does it disappear as we forge further on in our journey. As late as Book 4, Chapter V we have clear and direct conflict between two parties that consider themselves "good" when Faramir and his men capture Frodo and his companions. And on the other side of the world in Book 3, Chapter II Aragorn and his friends have a close encounter with Eomer and his men. And then there is always the element of Gollum to consider (something that will be done around Book 4, Chapter I.)

Stay tuned,
-Mac

The opening to this chapter is characteristic Tolkien with the description of the town and its society. I was pleased to see that he wasn't interrupting the action (as would be the case if he had dropped the information in the middle of the chapter) so much as postponing it. A lot of readers find this somewhat awkward or at the very least slow. And while I will admit that it's not a writing style you can get away with anymore, thus far Tolkien has used his omniscient perspective deftly enough that I do not fault him for the unique pacing. (We'll see if it starts to annoy me later on in the story.)

We also have the textbook example of good description for a character's appearance with the introduction of Aragorn. In one brief paragraph, we not only have a clear picture of what Aragorn looks like, but also what kind of person he is. A lot of writers and readers point to the description of his boots as the most defining characteristic of this passage, but I find that Tolkien's description of eyes are just as important. The boots are nice, yes, and an excellent example of description, that too, but the entire paragraph can be studied for specific and subtle ways that his appearance give us insight into his character.

The other neat bit about this chapter is that we begin to see the will of the Ring at work. Frodo displays a competent amount of courage and cunning when he tries to distract the people in the inn from Pippin's talk. However, he ends up causing more harm than before due to the Ring's desire to be revealed. Thus, we shall soon have the hobbits swept under the protection of (arguably) more competent wings.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

A delightful chapter if only for the horror bits. Tolkien demonstrates that he is brutally effective at implementing elements of the horror genre to improve his story. It is good that he did not try to write a horror novel, as I doubt he would be able to carry an entire narrative in such a style, but his use of it in this chapter really enhances the story.

Also, though some readers criticize the resolution of this chapter's action as a deus ex machina, I find it significant that Frodo at least tries to do something before calling on Tom Bombadil's assistance. Even though he is utterly helpless in this situation, it is important that he found the courage to try and help his friends.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

"Tom Bombadil is the one thing that I'm glad they took out of the movies."
~my roommate
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"I love Tom Bombadil, and Goldberry. I want to be Goldberry when I'm older."
~my girlfriend


Ah, Tom Bombadil. Perhaps the most divisive element of the entire saga. Well, I suppose I'll talk about him now.

For me, Tom Bombadil serves a purpose within this part of the books. It would not do to have him influence any other part of the story (I think Gandalf even says something about that later on,) but thus far he represents several important elements of symbology.

For one, Tom Bombadil and his wife Goldberry continue the pattern of providing respite for the hobbits after each dangerous encounter. These frequent breaks from the journey not only make it possible for the hobbits to safely make it to Rivendell, logistically, but they also provide moments for the hobbits (and the reader by extension) to pause and consider both what has happened and what is to come on the journey.

One of these considerations is that of purpose. It is important, in any story, to define why the characters do what they do and/or what they are striving for. I have already mentioned how the earlier chapters in the Shire begin to establish the ideal of community in order that we understand why the hobbits muster such a great deal of courage to do what is necessary. Here, we have Tom Bombadil representing the natural world and the carefree lifestyle that he leads. Both are elements of the world that are or will be threatened by Sauron and his forces. Thus, they help establish another reason for the hobbits to press onward.

A final note that I'd like to make on Tom Bombadil and his purpose is that he reminds us of the great variety of good forces at work in Tolkien's world. Gandalf alluded to elements of fate and providence early on in the story, and for me Tom Bombadil serves to show us another example of those forces at work. With an overwhelming amount of examples for the dark forces approaching in the story, Tolkien tries to help us remember that there is some good in the world by front-ending the tale with examples like Tom Bombadil.

Stay tuned,
-Mac

This chapter is an excellent one. We have the hobbits setting out on their journey...

...and promptly getting lost in the forest.

The depiction of the forest is what really excites me. If you've ever been lost in a forest before (not to say that I have *shifty eyes*) you know that it is almost exactly like this chapter. Even if you think you know where you're going, as the hobbits did, a forest can still confound you and turn you about to where you aren't sure which way is which anymore. This is even more true when you aren't especially adept at navigating without instruments, as I imagine these fine, young hobbits are.

The other thing I really like about this chapter (though it seems I say this in almost every chapter) is that Sam really gets a moment to shine. It's brief, and he doesn't accomplish much, but he takes initiative and I think that's a very important matter at this point. As I pointed out in the last chapter, he's been a follower for most of the story, but here he was presented with the first moment that requires him to do something. Thus, we see Sam growing into the strong character that will so dramatically impact the outcome of this story.


Stay tuned,
-Mac

Another brief chapter, because it achieves a brief purpose. It merely serves as a breath between adventures and a method for establishing the company of hobbits who will be setting out on this next leg of their journey. A gathering, if you will. In addition, we get a small amount of backstory exposition explaining a few bits of character and events to help bind together this newfound fellowship. So, all in all, a fairly important chapter. It just doesn't have a lot of the depth that some of the other recent chapters have had.

We do, however, get to watch one of the most under-appreciated characters in the whole story. Fatty Bolger. Poor Fatty has no desire for adventure, yet he has one of the most dangerous tasks of any in the group. Not only does he have to throw the Nazgul off of Frodo's trail, but he has to convince the other hobbits that Frodo is still in town! (Arguably the more difficult task.) And on top of all that he doesn't get any recognition for it. (Granted, it's been a while since I've read this. I may be proved wrong in this matter by the end.) Poor, poor, Fatty Bolger.

Also, we have some nice character development in Sam, casting him as a much braver companion than the narrative has indicated up to this point. (Though it has made allusions to what he would do, we haven't really seen him do anything brave yet.) It's a nice little touch that both alludes to eventual greater bravery and introduces another character element of Sam's that will develop over the course of the journey. (At the moment, his bravery is limited to working in concert with others who make the decisions. However, by the end his bravery will manifest itself in its own choices. But I think that's a discussion best saved for another time. Like... Book 4, Chapter X, perhaps?)

Stay tuned,
-Mac