Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings at 50 (me, not it)
A young Tolkien, just after the war
A
friend of mine recently sent me this
article by Melissa Brinks at Ranker about uncovering Tolkien’s failings as
a man through evidence in his works. It isn't really worth reading, a sort of execrable
piece of chickenpoop clickbait with a great many of the usual accusations leveled
against works of greatness such as those of Mister Tolkien. Excusing most of
the fallacious arguments to a gross lack of knowledge about the actual text (it
seems the author is far more familiar with Peter Jackson's inferior
LOTR than Tolkien’s masterful Lord of the Rings) there are one or two
things which seemed to need some answer. For instance, the author accuses Tolkien
of misogyny, bigotry, and racism. This really gets under my skin. Not only do I
dislike the modern penchant for judging past works by current mores, these
accusations simply are not true of the author.
Tolkien's watercolor of the Shire
As
to the misogyny, Brinks quotes one of Tolkien’s more beautiful letters to his
son urging Christopher to take care of the women in his life and treat them with
the greatest respect he possibly can. Brinks quotes a portion of one letter out
of context which seems damning to the professor but it is worth reading the letter (which, we
must remember, was meant as a caution for his wavering libidinous son) in full
to understand his meaning. Here is the
portion, in context, which Brinks uses as evidence of Tolkien’s misogyny:
Women really have
not much part in all this (the guiding nature of chivalry and romance), though
they may use the language of romantic love, since it is so entwined in all our
idioms. The sexual impulse makes women (naturally when unspoiled more
unselfish) very sympathetic and understanding, or specially desirous of being
so (or seeming so), and very ready to enter into all the interests, as far as
they can, from ties to religion, of the young man they are attracted to. No
intent necessarily to deceive: sheer instinct: the servient, helpmeet instinct,
generously warmed by desire and young blood. Under this impulse they can in
fact often achieve very remarkable insight and understanding, even of things
otherwise outside their natural range: for it is their gift to be receptive,
stimulated, fertilized (in many other matters than the physical) by the male.
Every teacher knows that. How quickly an intelligent woman can be taught, grasp
his ideas, see his point – and how (with rare exceptions) they can go no
further, when they leave his hand, or when they cease to take a personal interest
in him. But this is their natural avenue to love. Before the young
woman knows where she is (and while the romantic young man, when he exists, is
still sighing) she may actually 'fall in love'. Which for her, an unspoiled
natural young woman, means that she wants to become the mother of the young
man's children, even if that desire is by no means clear to her or explicit.
And then things are going to happen: and they may be very painful and harmful,
if things go wrong. Particularly if the young man only wanted a temporary
guiding star and divinity (until he hitches his waggon to a brighter one), and
was merely enjoying the flattery of sympathy nicely seasoned with a titillation
of sex – all quite innocent, of course, and worlds away from
'seduction'.
43 From a letter
to Michael Tolkien 6-8 March 1941
Tolkien
is not misogynistic in his writing, but his age thought of women as members of
society to be protected and honored. The fact that this author accuses him of misogyny
speaks more about our loss of that sense then of Tolkien’s supposed dislike of
women. Tolkien in his own correspondence with women is always courteous, kind,
and exhibits a respect of their intellect and questions which indicate the
attitude of a refined and noble human being.
In
responding to Naomi Mitchison, a prolific novelist and memoirist who read
proofs of Lord of the Rings he wrote
It has been both
rude and ungrateful of me not to have acknowledged, or to have thanked you for
past letters, gifts, and remembrances – all the more so, since your interest
has, in fact, been a great comfort to me, and encouragement in the despondency
that not unnaturally accompanies the labours of actually publishing such a work
as The Lord of the Rings. But it is
most unfortunate that this has coincided with a period of exceptionally heavy
labours and duties in other functions, so that I have been at times almost
distracted. I will try and answer your
questions. I may say that they are very welcome.
After
a long letter Tolkien concludes by noting her “delightful and encouraging
interest” and saying that he is “deeply grateful for it.” His words indicate an obvious delight with
the depth of her interest in and knowledge of the secondary world he was
creating. Finally, the fact that the majority of his characters are male speaks
to his own military experience of the time, not to misogyny.
Tolkien with classmates
Tolkien, fourth from left in the middle row, stands for inspection with the new Cadet Corps at King Edward’s School, Birmingham, on 4 April 1907
One wonders if Brinks
would suggest a revision of other great works such as Lord of the Flies or Beowulf
to incorporate more badass female figures. Tolkien was more aware of the grace
and beauty of Wealtheow than of the kick butt and take names heroine of our
current Marvel Universe. Brinks’
suggestion that he treated the love of his life, his wife, whom he married despite everyone’s
advice and the possibility of his own ruin (she was the daughter of his
landlord) is not even a comment worthy of address.
Tolkien's lovely bride, Edith
The Tolkiens together in life and in death
Concerning
bigotry, again Tolkien was not indicating that lower class people we're not as
important as upper class people. Quite the opposite. His experience on the
battlefields of Europe, like the experience of so many young men of his era, was
a leveling experience between upper class and lower class not a calcification of
the various strata of society from the 19th century. Like Lord Peter Wimsey and
his man Bunter in Dorothy Sayers’ novels, Frodo sees Sam not just as an equal but
really as a better man than he is. The alleged bigotry towards other religions such
as Judaism is an outright laughable accusation. I have long thought that Tolkien
based his races on different religious groups of his day. The high elves seem
to be the Anglican church and the low elves seem to be the low Anglican church;
the dwarves seem to mirror the Jewish communities in England; the men and the
hobbits seem to be Catholics; even the men of Harad seem to be the Muslim community
of the Ottoman Empire. But Tolkien’s
world of Middle Earth was an alternate world – intentionally so. Though like any author he draws on his own
experience and models his work upon it, he is not making an identity as the
author of this article so fatuously suggests.
Even were he to do so, the dwarves are extremely impressive as a race in
all his novels (Silmarillion to Hobbit to Lord of the Rings to Lost Tales). Even the most threatening group of the men of
Haradwaith are misguided by their seducer, Sauron. The enemy of orcs are themselves not evil by nature,
but elves tortured to the point of becoming destructive. Tolkien’s sense of evil is far more complex
than Brinks gives credit. He always
seemed to see evil as a torture, imprisonment, misguided thing – not as the “ultimate
evil” of our video game age (which, tangentially, is another reason for my
dislike of Jackson’s LOTR when compared to Tolkien’s masterpiece).
Tolkien's watercolor of Barad-dur
Thus,
even the accusation of racism seems completely inane. Tolkien was no racist. He had a deep love for Norse mythology,
Germanic tradition, English history, and somewhat the French, but he was born
in South Africa and knew the traditions of the Zulu people. He praised the learning of the 14th century
Muslim scholars. He even wrote a protest
note to Mr. Adolf Morgothed Hitler praising the Jewish people as “that gifted
people”!
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 none 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.
— Tolkien, The
Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, #30
The
chance that professor Tolkien was any more racist than anyone else of his era
is miniscule and the accusation that evil characters in the movie were “made
more black” is risible. Tolkien well
knew the difference between men and women with brown or dark skin and the
blackness of Grendel, Ungoliant, and Baphomet.
If the accusation of racism is to be tossed about perhaps more should be
slung at Peter Jackson who overused the imagery and played the “evil” card far
too freely.
This is not how orcs are made!
The
article raised my hackles and got up my Tookish fighting blood, it is true, but
I must thank both the article and my friend for sending it my way. I had of late, wherefore I know not, lost
most of my mirth, forgone most customs of exercises, and indeed it went so
heavily with me that I even failed to lift a glass on September 22nd to my two
favorite Hobbits (you know who you are).
When I grew heated over this silly little bit of tripe wrapped in scheissvertisements
I decided it was time to pick up the professor’s great work again and read it
to my young daughter. Soon my older
children wanted to listen too, and we were soon reading once again the work I
remember my father reading to me from childhood. Frodo, Sam and Pippin have just met Merry at
the Buckleberry Ferry after spending some time with Farmer Maggot, and I am
remembering how, once again, my father was right – this work is one of the few
works of the 20th century about hope.
This
This
and certainly this (no female characters my ax!)
the Shadow is but a passing thing
If
you haven’t yet listened to professor Dr. Helen Lasseter Freeh’s interview on this work, I
suggest you listen to her (disclosure: we are of one blood, she and I).
One of the
things she points out is that Tolkien’s work is filled with joy and hope
(another reason for me to dislike LOTR).
There is hope in the singing, the rescue by the elves, the landscape,
the description of flowers and trees, the conversation with Maggot about mushrooms,
the humor of Grip, Wolf and Fang charging the hobbits, there is joy in the
travel with companions even when it is dogged by black riders, there is joy in
the party of Bilbo’s 111th and in the saving power of Gandalf allowing Bilbo to
freely give up the ring.
Frodo and Gandalf by Alan Lee
There
is even hope and joy in the dark conversation between Frodo and Gandalf about
the ring in chapter 2. Yet it was here
that I noticed a few very startling things I had not previously seen (that’s
the beauty of a great work – it doesn’t change but we do and notice new things
in it as we change!). First, the race of
Hobbits is the ordinary human race – the average Joe (or Tommy) who simply
wants his ballgame and his beer and his children to make it through school
okay. They are not happy singing midgets
like the munchkins or like Darby O’Gill’s little people.
This would NOT be Hobbits
Nor would this
and NO
The glory of the Shire is that it is so ordinary,
not that it is some rural paradise filled with maniacal partying and singing denizens
of Cymru as yet untainted by industrialism (another reason for me to dislike
LOTR). They are people who don’t want
big ideas or grand adventures; “We don’t want any adventures here,” said Bilbo,
“Good day.” People who are so far from being mariners on the deep waters of the
human spirit that they are scared even of small streams and suspicious of
anyone who messes about with boats “and other queer things.” Such people are not helpful in the great
struggle with the horror of the enemy – in fact they can be a hindrance, even
treacherously so. Nor are they children innocently
enjoying the world in the newness of springtime (as Ralph Bakshi and Peter Jackson
both suggest – and if you haven’t yet seen the Bakshi overdub you must go enjoy
some ribald humor on YouTube). Farmer
Cotton, the Gaffer, Bullroarer, Belladonna Took, Lobelia S-B and even the young
adventurers all suggest that these are seasoned adults, not babes.
So
why are they worth preserving? What is
it about the Shire that makes Frodo want to protect it? It isn’t just the trees and fields (as is
suggested in LOTR). Nor is it just the
drinking and dancing on tables (rrrrghh, Mr. Jackson!). Yet there seems something in the nature of
the ordinary which Tolkien suggests must be the focus of the heroic – something
which needs protecting even though it doesn’t know that it does. Nowhere in his book does he suggest that the
elvish society needs protecting; quite the opposite. We know from the outset that elvish society
is doomed to perish; Elrond says so, Galadriel says so, even Glorion says so. Frodo meets elves fleeing Middle Earth. The elves throw themselves into battle
knowing they will fail. Nor does the preservation
of dwarvish society get much emphasis, though there is mention of battle in the
North near Lonely Mountain. Never does Gimli
or any other dwarf make the claim that they are fighting to preserve dwarvish
culture. Even the men of Middle Earth
frequently seem to suggest that they are fighting to hold back the darkness,
not to preserve the beauty and greatness of Minas Tirith or of Rohirrim. Even the attempt to preserve the White City
becomes the downfall of great men like Boromir.
Only the Shire seems to want or need preserving in the book. Perhaps Tolkien is suggesting that this is
the core of our own race, the ordinary, peace-loving, shallow thinking race of
human/hobbits that just want to be left alone. Could it be that this is worth preserving more
than all the Chartres and Palmyras and Reichstags of civilization?
The
other aspect to the Hobbit race in Tolkien’s works is their tremendous resilience. I noticed this time around how intimately
tied were Frodo and Gollum – far more than Bilbo and Gollum in The Hobbit. From Chapter 2 onward (in which Gandalf and
Frodo discuss the history of the ring) we already know Gollum’s real name,
Smeagol, his back story, his years of loneliness and suffering with the ring,
and his recent capture in Mordor and torture by Sauron. Frodo suggests that it was “a pity Bilbo didn’t
kill him when he had the chance” to which Gandalf responds “you have not seen
him.” Indeed, the wizard adds, “it was
pity that stayed his hand” and thankfully for Bilbo pity was how he began his
possession of the ring of power. From
the outset of the journey Frodo is thinking about not only the ring, but Gollum
and how he, Frodo, may end up like Gollum.
At first he denies that this might be so, even growing heated at the
suggestion that Gollum may have been related to Hobbits. But Gandalf responds that the evidence, the
riddles, the resilience to the ring, the cultural identity, all suggest the
opposite.
Herein
lies a crucial element of Tolkien’s genius.
It is one thing to hate our enemies, to make aliens and monsters out of
them so that we might crush them, as Niell Fergusson suggests so many did
during the Great War. But this is lazy,
slipshod thinking and pusillanimity of spirit.
The truly heroic action of the heart is to recognize that our enemy is
the same as we are; that in different circumstances we not only might do but indeed
probably would do the same thing as they.
The recent heroic actions by Brandt Jean toward Amber Guyger illustrated
that indeed, our enemies suffer just as we do, and that forgiveness is the only
possible route to our own salvation.
Indeed, such recognition must accept that the greatest horror conceivable
is not beyond our own power. Frodo
becomes the Dark Lord at the end of the novel (spoiler alert) and not in some
cinematic, CGI-gasm of fire and action, but in a rather pathetic statement of
self-delusion that happens unbeknownst to the rest of Middle Earth. Something more like Marvin the Martian and
his p38 space modulator or Plankton trying to rule the world than Elijah Wood’s
overacting (another reason to dislike LOTR).
overacting
better
better still
probably best
In the end, the ring so corrupts Frodo that he thinks he is something
great, he is delusional and loses himself.
Frodo fails and dies (spiritually) at the end. Or, perhaps to be fair, he is so close to failure
that he almost dies. Ultimately, he is
saved… by Gollum. The earlier kindness
and mercy shown to Gollum/Smeagol certainly contributed to the salvation on
Mount Orodruin, but even that does not assure the salvation. The only thing that seems to is an Actus Dei,
an act of God, through the person of Gollum who bites off the ring finger and
falls into the fire. Gollum, one could
say, is damned, Frodo is saved. But
Gollum and Frodo, Tolkien intimates, are one and the same – bound together by
the ring which “brings them all and in the darkness binds them”. Even after the salvation by the eagles and
the return home, Frodo is not the same person and eventually wishes to pass
with Bilbo into the Grey Heavens (Avalon) of eternal life, leaving behind the
grieved by joyful Sam, who might after all be the main character of the book.
my favorite photograph of the good professor
Finally,
it dawned on me with some remarkable joy that the novel holds a special place
for me this year. Allow me to RambleOn. When Frodo sets off on his journey
he is 50 years old. In Hobbit years that’s
about 20 or so, but the fact that he literally is 50 struck a chord. Frodo is in love, at the beginning, with the
normalcy and beauty of the Shire, but he also is feeling a bit pudgy, somewhat
bored, and as though nothing in his life is ever going to be really exciting
again. He is beyond those dangerous
years of his tweens (the 20s) and on the road to being “respectable” (visavis –
sedentary). When the ring comes to him
and the adventure begins he finds himself not wanting to accept the
responsibility and not wanting to leave the shire. But he does for the sake of protecting
others. In so doing he finds that he faces
tremendous peril, sorrow and loss (Frodo doesn’t know, after all, that Gandalf
is alive and thinks him dead twice in the novel – once until Rivendell and again
after the last battle and his recuperation in Minas Tirith), but he saves all of
Middle Earth and is honored ever after for his sacrifice. Being myself on the near approach to the event
horizon of 50 I sympathize deeply with my fellow hobbit and as I sit here
shoeless I intend to raise a glass after typing this. Here’s to all those small, seemingly insignificant
fellow lovers of good beer, song, laughter, mushrooms and the last light of the
setting sun shining on the keyhole. May
the hair on our toes never fall out!
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