The first installment of The Lord of the Rings series, that hallowed entity of the fantasy novel, begins its first chapter unexceptionably (following a rather lengthy prologue on the history of hobbits and the finding of the One Ring). In fact, you would almost expect the first sentence—“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton”—to be in a grammar book giving the example of “Basic Sentence Structure”—but it does not lack promise. To begin with a party, as this story does, simultaneously shows off the nature of the characters, and introduces you to them all at once, so you don’t have to go through dreary chance meetings on the road or at the post office. Tolkien, I noticed, though filling his pages with words, filled just as many hypothetical pages with what he didn’t say, or said halfway and left you to take the rest of the way. For instance, he states very clearly that hobbits never fight, are not violent, and are (almost) always good-natured. And yet as the narration that takes place in the Shire floats on, we learn of Brandybuck hobbits, with their “queer ways,” and the Sackville-Bagginses, the grasping, greedy natures of whom leads other hobbits to duck into hedges when they see them coming. From the beginning, you learn not to take the winding words of Tolkien for granted.
I had heard so much about these books (and watched the movies), that it was nice to see what the talk was about, and to find out what the aforesaid movies had left out (which turned out to be quite a lot, in places). I wasn’t disappointed—both in the amount of description—landscapes, cultures and beliefs—and the richness of the story. I was wondering if the latter would be as diverse as it could be, since it is just one long journey, here and there interrupted by brief stops in places such as Rivendell and, later, Lothlòrien. I found that not only did Tolkien turn it to his advantage—you didn’t have a chance to become bored with any place—but he also balanced the nine members of the Fellowship so that none were left forgotten in the dialogue or general participation in the story.
The characters themselves can be at times remarkably funny, or dramatic to the point of ridiculous—though they can balance in between for short amounts of time, if there is a need. Don’t take this the wrong way—the characters are not shallow or predictable: elves may be aloof and beautiful, but some also tells jokes and show fear and boast and make bets. Dwarves are little portrayed, since Gimli of the Fellowship is the only one who features for more than a chapter, but it is clear that they are not only war-mongers and cave-miners, but also artisans and music-lovers.
The writing style is that of the ballad, and except for rhythm, the three books could be one of the longest poems written. It is full of unexpected, beautiful words and phrases that slip into otherwise lengthy descriptions like drops of honey—words like darkling (a favorite of his, it seems) Silvan, one of his names for the elves, and athelas, a healing flower.
When you have wended your way through the scrawl of the map, and the formerly strange names are as familiar as our own world’s, the two ever-present yet intangible entities of the Dark Lord and the oft-hinted-at West are brought to the spotlight. Though neither are ever shown as anything more corporeal than an eye on the one hand and a scent of the Sea on the other, this makes them far more mysterious, letting our imaginations run away with the possibilities. Who exactly was Sauron? What is in the West? And though Tolkien dangles tantalizing answers and almost satisfies our curiosity, he lets you make your own decisions when it comes down to the clear answers.
Though the series is sometimes lengthy and overly descriptive, at other times it delights with its witty narration, action and characters. Tolkien’s work is one of the roots of the tree of fantasy—a rare golden-blooming mallorn tree, if you will, which has grown and branched into one of the most beautiful and creative trees in the literary forest.
I had heard so much about these books (and watched the movies), that it was nice to see what the talk was about, and to find out what the aforesaid movies had left out (which turned out to be quite a lot, in places). I wasn’t disappointed—both in the amount of description—landscapes, cultures and beliefs—and the richness of the story. I was wondering if the latter would be as diverse as it could be, since it is just one long journey, here and there interrupted by brief stops in places such as Rivendell and, later, Lothlòrien. I found that not only did Tolkien turn it to his advantage—you didn’t have a chance to become bored with any place—but he also balanced the nine members of the Fellowship so that none were left forgotten in the dialogue or general participation in the story.
The characters themselves can be at times remarkably funny, or dramatic to the point of ridiculous—though they can balance in between for short amounts of time, if there is a need. Don’t take this the wrong way—the characters are not shallow or predictable: elves may be aloof and beautiful, but some also tells jokes and show fear and boast and make bets. Dwarves are little portrayed, since Gimli of the Fellowship is the only one who features for more than a chapter, but it is clear that they are not only war-mongers and cave-miners, but also artisans and music-lovers.
The writing style is that of the ballad, and except for rhythm, the three books could be one of the longest poems written. It is full of unexpected, beautiful words and phrases that slip into otherwise lengthy descriptions like drops of honey—words like darkling (a favorite of his, it seems) Silvan, one of his names for the elves, and athelas, a healing flower.
When you have wended your way through the scrawl of the map, and the formerly strange names are as familiar as our own world’s, the two ever-present yet intangible entities of the Dark Lord and the oft-hinted-at West are brought to the spotlight. Though neither are ever shown as anything more corporeal than an eye on the one hand and a scent of the Sea on the other, this makes them far more mysterious, letting our imaginations run away with the possibilities. Who exactly was Sauron? What is in the West? And though Tolkien dangles tantalizing answers and almost satisfies our curiosity, he lets you make your own decisions when it comes down to the clear answers.
Though the series is sometimes lengthy and overly descriptive, at other times it delights with its witty narration, action and characters. Tolkien’s work is one of the roots of the tree of fantasy—a rare golden-blooming mallorn tree, if you will, which has grown and branched into one of the most beautiful and creative trees in the literary forest.