LotR Re-Read

[liptonrm_backup]

I had my first visit with an accupuncturist this morning. It was ... interesting. I'm definitely intrigued enough to continue going.

However! I have finally cranked out another re-read post. Apparently I have lots of opinions about LotR. I've had to start *gasp* putting real effort into these. But Middle-earth is worth it.

Lord of the Rings
Fellowship of the Ring
Book I—Chapter II: The Shadow of the Past

The talk did not die down in nine or even in ninety-nine days. The second disappearance of Mr. Bilbo Baggins was discussed in Hobbition, and indeed all over the Shire, for a year and a day, and was remembered much longer than that.

I’m starting to really appreciate how the opening lines of any given chapter give you a sense of how everything is going to go.
Opening lines are important, which is why they’re also so difficult to master. As a reader, I can usually tell within the first half of a paragraph, or sometimes even by the end of the first sentence, whether or not I’m going to enjoy reading what comes next. This is true whether I’m browsing in the bookstore or flipping around on the internet. First lines matter. Which is why, as a writer, they can drive me crazy. Sometimes they just come to me, perfectly formed, but other times I obsess and obsess over them, rewriting and revising the same sentence again and again. They need to draw the reader in and give the reader a taste of what the story has in store for them.

I kind of wonder how the dear Professor handled them. Knowing the kind of perfectionist he was I imagine he agonized over every word. In fact, he probably agonized over every word he wrote (being the philologist he was).

That’s the thing about art, laypeople think it’s all about genius; that artists just sit around and crap out amazingness (or, conversely, they sit around and crap out crap). But even us amateurs understand how hard it is to create something. And not just to create it, but to give it that something that makes it greater than the sum of its parts, that invites other people to also appreciate it.

What I’m saying is that writing is hard. And you can know the true geniuses by how effortless they make it seem. The Professor makes writing an epic seem like the easiest thing in the world, I guess that’s why so many people have tried their hand at writing one, and usually haven’t come anywhere close to accomplishing what Tolkien did.

He lived alone, as Bilbo had done; but he had a good many friends, especially among the younger hobbits (mostly descendants of the Old Took) who had as children been fond of Bilbo and often in and out of Bag End. Folco Boffin and Fredegar Bolger were two of these; but his closest friends were Peregrin Took (usually called Pippin), and Merry Brandybuck (his real name was Meriadoc, but that was seldom remembered). Frodo went tramping all over the Shire with them: but more often he wandered by himself, and to the amazement of sensible folk he was sometimes seen far from home walking in the hills and woods under the starlight. Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the Elves, as Bilbo had done.

Tolkien goes to a lot of effort here to draw Frodo in comparison to Bilbo. I quoted it because it’s a nice pocket description of Frodo and introduces us to some of his more important relationships. We also get a little taste of the things that make Frodo different, for better or worse. Even here, Frodo is a hobbit apart. He has good friends and many happy endeavours but there’s still a part of him that’s separate from the people around him, even when those people are those who are the closest to him.

Bilbo is Frodo and Frodo is Bilbo except for not being like him at all. There’s a lot of unspoken commentary about parents and children with both Bilbo and Frodo and also Sam and his Old Gaffer. Frodo only received the Ring because Bilbo bequeathed it to him, it was a gift that Frodo didn’t particularly want and that would only end up bringing him a world of hurt. But that’s what parents do, isn’t it? Bequeath their issues and problems to the next generation, hoping that their children are strong enough to do what they were either never called on or weren’t strong enough to do.

Parents and children, it’s the literary thematic gift that keeps on giving.

Frodo himself, after the first shock, found that being his own master and the Mr. Baggins of Bag End was rather pleasant. For some years he was quite happy and did not worry much about the future. But half unknown to himself the regret that he had not gone with Bilbo was steadily growing. He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams. He began to say to himself: ‘Perhaps I shall cross the River myself one day.’ To which the other half of his mind always replied: ‘Not Yet.’

Regrets, he has a few. We all do that, though, don’t we? We all have our fantasies, if only I’d turned left rather than right, if only I’d studied this and not that, if only I’d married this person rather than that. I like to do it as much as the next person. I wonder sometimes about what my life would be like if I’d studied music instead of history, if I’d gone to a different kind of graduate school (though, not really strangely at all, I never wonder about whether I should have gone to a different undergraduate university). And, of course, I like to think that somewhere in the vast multiverse there’s a version of me who runs a successful cult-phenom television show. Because that would be awesome.

Maybe the other half of Frodo’s brain was correct, maybe it was better that he wait in the Shire for a while, mature into the kind of person who could do what he would be asked to do. And blah blah blah maybe I’m a better person for everything I’ve gone through. The “could’ve beens” will drive you crazy faster than almost anything else in life.

The point being, I really want to run a TV show. And maybe Frodo does too.

Sam was silent and said no more. He had a good deal to think about. For one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But Sam had more on his mind than gardening. After a while he sighed, and got up and went out.

It was early April and the sky was now clearing after heavy rain. The sun was down, and a cool pale evening was quietly fading into night. He walked home under the early stars through Hobbiton and up the Hill, whistling softly and thoughtfully.

I’ve always loved this passage. This is at the end of another mirror passage, this time mirroring a chapter one conversation Gaffer Gamgee had with the Sandyman of his generation. This is the first time we’re shown Sam’s key differences, the ones that set him apart from the other hobbits of his class (at least in Hobbiton). There’s a kind of sad foreshadowing about Sam walking home under the early stars, set apart from the world around him, as well as connecting him to Frodo who “was sometimes seen far from home walking in the hills and woods under the starlight.” You can already tell that there’s a lot more going on under Sam’s placid surface than necessarily meets the eye.

I could also swear I read a fic that divulged from this point. It was about the Conspirators and I wish I could remember who wrote it. If it was baylorsr I’ll be really, really embarrassed. It was an excellent fic and it’d be nice to re-read it.

‘He felt better at once,’ said Gandalf. ‘But there is only one Power in this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I know there is no Power in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the Wise I am the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch of knowledge, but full of surprises. Soft as butter they can be, and yet sometimes as tough as old tree-roots. I think it likely that some would resist the Rings far longer than most of the Wise would believe. I don’t think you need worry about Bilbo.

Quoted just ‘cause. Because hobbits are awesome and sometimes studying obscure and arcane lore prepares you to do things like discover the One Ring before the Dark Lord or write one of the most popular and enduring epics of the 20th Century.

’Gollum!’ cried Frodo. ‘Gollum? Do you mean that this is the very Gollum-creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!’

‘I think it is a sad story,’ said the wizard, ‘and it might have happened to others, even to some hobbits that I have known.’

‘I can’t believe that Gollum was connected with hobbits, however distantly,’ said Frodo with some heat. ‘What an abominable notion!’

I know this quote got a lot of play in the movies, and rightfully so, it sets up the tragedy that is Smeagol/Gollum. But even with the duality between Gollum and Frodo that they emphasized, I feel like a really interesting nuance was left out. During Gandalf’s exposition you get the sense that Smeagol was just a normal guy whose darkest impulses were magnified by the Ring. He could have been anyone, he could have been you or me or Sam or Pippin.

There’s something in all of us that could be manipulated that way. Gollum’s isn’t just a sad story, it’s an ordinary story. Stories only ever talk about the ones who make it out, who overcome, because those are the ones we want to remember and hear, but we’ve all given in. Even Frodo does, sometimes at less than ideal moments. What makes Frodo so remarkable is the fact that he keeps on going, he stumbles, gets back up and continues walking, his burden still on his back.

Sometimes I, like Gollum, wish I could go hide in a hole far, far away and curl up tight with the things that weigh me down. Because they may be awful but they’re all mine. Or, like Wild Bill Hickok, be allowed to go to Hell in my own way.

‘I hope so,’ said Frodo. ‘But I hope that you may find some other better keeper soon. But in the meanwhile it seems that I am a danger, a danger to all that lie near me. I cannot keep the Ring and stay here. I ought to leave Bag End, leave the Shire, leave everything and go away.’ He sighed.

‘Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo’s or better, ending in peace. But this would mean exile, a flight from danger into danger, drawing it after me. And I suppose I most go alone, if I am to do that and save the Shire. But I feel very small, and very uprooted, and well—desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.’

Poor Frodo, sometimes we get the chance to live our dreams and they turn out exactly the opposite of what we really wanted. But even knowing how dangerous it would be he never could have imagined in this moment all of the horrible things that would occur. Sometimes that lack of knowledge is the only reason we have the courage to do the things that we need to do. It’s only afterward that we realize how great the risk really was.

‘But I don’t think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can trust, and who would be willing to go by your side—and that you would be willing to take into unknown perils. But if you look for a companion, but careful in choosing! And be careful of what you say, even to your closest friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing.’

Suddenly he stopped as if listening. Frodo became aware that all was very quiet, inside and outside. Gandalf crept to on side of the window. Then with a dart he sprang to the sill, and thrust a long arm out and downwards. There was a squawk, and up came Sam Gamgee’s curly head hauled by one ear.

Way to be obvious about your literary allusions there, Professor! *snort* The Creator Itself couldn’t have chosen a more faithful companion for Frodo than Sam.

Gandalf’s advice is good for all of us. We don’t need to go into the dark alone. In fact, our friends are the ones who can help pull us out. Western literature sometimes wants to deify the Singular Hero, the idea that one person (usually a man) accomplishes the great feat. But Rugged Individualism doesn’t work all that well in real life, or even in stories. We can’t do it all on our own and if we’re wise (like Gandalf) we’ll rely on the people who we trust the most, even if that means Bad Things Might Happen. Because you know what? Bad things always happen. At least if we have our friends we might make it out the other side.

Next Time: Fellowship of the Ring Book I—Chapter III: Three Is Company. Frodo finally sets off on his quest and already nothing is going the way he thought it would.

comments at http://liptonrm.dreamwidth.org/40638.html.

Comments

[dodger-sister.livejournal.com]

But that’s what parents do, isn’t it? Bequeath their issues and problems to the next generation, hoping that their children are strong enough to do what they were either never called on or weren’t strong enough to do.

There was always that feeling that Bilbo was saddened or whatever to have to hand that burden off to Frodo but that he hoped that Frodo would do better with it than he had - which is all parents everywhere feel (well, the good ones anyways).

I would love for you to sit down someday with Jack and talk about Gollum. (He went through a phase where he refused to call him anything but Smeagol because he said "gollum" was a noise not a name and he deserved better or something). He was always so fascinated by Gollum.

You are correct - so much of story-telling does emphasis The Lone Hero. But even if there is nothing your friends can do for you, they can still be there, at your side - at the end of all things.

And for the record, I wish you ran a TV show too. But you know that.