Printed and re-printed more than 150
million times, existing in thirty-eight translations of foreign languages, spawning
a variety of scholarship, prompting viral graffiti (Frodo lives!), having a museum, providing the impetus for multiple
films, adaptations, and a host of derivative literature (for better and worse),
and having millions of millions of fans around the world, its fair to say The Lord of the Rings has made its mark
in the world of literature. A watershed
event, the novel put epic fantasy on the map half a century ago and remains the seminal influence on the genre.
But the book had different beginnings. Tolkien’s finished manuscript languished in a
drawer for about a decade. Epic
fantasy’s lack of presence in the market the major decision point, no editor
was willing to take the risk of publishing such a massive tome at a time when
fantasy was thought dead in the aftermath of the pulp era. Giving in to publisher request, Tolkien
eventually conceded to the book being broken into sections, paving the way for The Lord of the Rings to be released as
most readers are familiar today: The
Fellowship of the Ring, The Two
Towers, and The Return of the King. Perhaps surprising, the books were not an
immediate success. A word-of-mouth
movement in the UK, however,
combined with the sales and distribution of non-copyrighted versions in the US,
set the book squarely on the road to success, a facet pushed over the brink by
the overwhelming popularity of Peter Jackson’s films at the turn of the
millennium.
But why The Lord of the Rings is such a success is not an easy question to
answer. In total roughly 1,000 pages,
it’s not to be absorbed in one or two evenings’ sittings, rather many. The language growing more archaic by the
year, it’s also not an easily digested read.
Much of the grammar and sentence structure adhering to former iterations
of English, the narrative requires more effort than the average modern work to grasp
meaning. And lastly, perhaps the most
difficult aspect of the book, is its tone and aim. Romantic by form rather than content, the
obvious juxtaposition: golden virtue vs. unquenchable evil, can be frustrating
for those looking for less abstract anchors to reality. Making the most of the genre’s tropes, the
book is true high fantasy.
The story of a simple hobbit who has a
tremendous burden placed upon him, The
Lord of the Rings is at heart a quest fantasy. Spanning an entire land, the journey taken by
Frodo and the band which unites around him to destroy the ring of power is rich
with detail. War, ancient prophecies,
heroes, the perennial value of nature, and myth are the groundwork upon which
the story is laid, while in the story, elves, dwarves, hobbits, orcs, goblins,
and ents fill epic battles, duels of wizardry, haunted passages, mountainous
traverses, ancient towers, cities of old, and dark lands in Middle Earth. The supernatural does exist, but spells and
wizardry are light in comparison to the world of fantastical creatures and
cultures Frodo encounters. Tolkien
trying to keep things subtle, the young hobbit’s perseverance and test of moral
fortitude remain the focus despite that the land coming alive around he and his
faithful companion, Sam Gamgee, as they march to the fires of Mt. Doom,
the great burning eye of Sauron seeking them every step of the way.
But for as much as The Lord of the Rings is just a story, there are a couple of elements
which give it a layer of depth. Foremost
among them is the lengths to which Tolkien went to build the world and weave
background details. A philologist by
profession, Tolkien created whole languages, including scripts (offsprings of a
hobby) and embedded them intermittently in his story. Appearing in more than glimpses and hints, he
also created a history and mythology for Middle Earth. Detailed in a separate book entitled The Silmarillion, the fictional past
comes alive, tying events as they are to a meta-history. (Fully tragic in tone, The Silmarillion is salt to The
Lord of the Rings’ pepper, and well worth a read for anyone wanting to see
the dark side of Middle Earth.)
Accordingly, the themes of The Lord of the Rings are along mythic
lines. In polar fashion, numerous
dualities are presented. The temptations
of the ring are juxtaposed with so-called real power, i.e. power backed by
wisdom rather than a desire for dominance.
The difference between hope and despair is featured in the clash of
Gandalf and Saruman. The mortality of
men vs. the immortality of the elves creates numerous differences in
viewpoint. But the strongest duality is
perhaps fate vs. free will. While men
and Sauron’s minions rage on the battlefield, Frodo’s mind is torn thinking of
the responsibility of the ring. Oscillating
harder with every step toward the burning eye, the reader never knows till the
very end what will become of matters, Frodo’s freedom of choice never a
certainty. Honor, virtue, the vitality
of nature, courage, and numerous other lofty ideals fleshing out the remainder
of the tale, the book’s scope is undoubtedly epic.
As with any work garnering such fame, The Lord of the Rings has its share of
criticism. Michael Moorcock’s essay
“Epic Pooh” semi-famously denounces the work as a romantic fairy tale lacking depth. More particularly, he points out the lack of
realistic outcomes and adherence to pertinent social situations which comment
on the human condition. A fair observation, the black and white nature of the
morals, particularly the faceless essence of evil (literally and figuratively)
do little to contemporize the story. To
be fair to Tolkien, however, one of the story’s root ideas is the confirmation
of fundamental human virtues in times mankind is threatened by highly
irrational ideals. Tolkien a veteran, he
saw WWI & II more as a clash of ideas than a tragedy of soldiers dying left
and right—as Moorcock might have it.
Standing in stark contrast to the selfish and vain quest for power which
Sauron wages, Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf and remainder of their allies fight for
the freedom of all, altruism their banner.
As was the case with Hitler, sometimes the evil of humanity transcends life
to the point of being abstract. Thus,
despite the fairness of Moorcock’s reading, there are situations—as rare as
they may be when looked at through the window of everyday life—in which
Tolkien’s presentation of story is relevant.
Criticisms regarding feminism and social elitism, well, suffice to say,
Tolkien did leave the door rather wide open…
In the end, The Lord of the Rings is classic storytelling as good as it
gets. Tolkien’s style bringing to life a
kaleidoscope of fantastical beings in a Medieval land, those willing to suspend
their disbelief are in for a real treat—one of the greatest in all of literature
if the first paragraph of this review is taken into account. Quests, battles, magic, and peoples of
myth—fantasy has never seen the likes of Tolkien’s tale, and never will
again. Bursting with imagination, the
book is rich in dialogue and description. The list of derivative works (direct and
indirect) too numerous to include here, The
Lord of the Rings has affected the fantasy landscape in unquantifiable
fashion and is at bare minimum worth a read to throw one more opinion on the
mountainous pile—just like this review.
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