"A Short Cut to Mushrooms" - Ben's Thoughts

All right, all right, this chapter wasn't that bad. The primary reason was that it was short, but it did feature an excellent character in Farmer Maggot and some extremely creepy scenes dealing with the Black Riders. The real dreck is still in the future, however.

The increasing threat from the Riders sets the tone of this chapter quite nicely. Frodo's concerns that the morning was almost too cheerful and bright bring home the difference between safety and the mere illusion of such. And then all of the hobbits' fear regarding the Riders is brought slamming back home when they see the dark figure a-horseback on the ridge where they breakfasted. The big question is how exactly the Rider tracked the hobbits to that ridge. Were they aware the whole time that the hobbits had been taken in by the Elves, but stayed away because the Elves could defeat them at that point in time?

The one thing that feels strange to me is how the Riders communicate with the hobbits. The idea of the Nazgul -- the storied Ringwraiths -- conversing with random hobbits in the Shire just feels odd. I did like how Tolkien makes the Rider's language ability a bit off: the Rider asks "Have you seen Baggins" without denoting whether that is a person's name or denoting an entire group of people. Very Gollum-like, which makes sense when that is where Mordor got its information. It was also interesting that the Rider offered Maggot gold in exchange for information. And that the Rider would have to "return" with gold -- where would he go in order to get it? Agents of Saruman to the south of the Shire? This mention of gold also makes me speculate about the Shire's economy. We haven't had much mention of currency to this point, just the hobbits' obsession with "things," particularly Bilbo's supposed hoard.

In any case, Tolkien sets the mood just right as far as the Riders are concerned. You can feel the web tightening around the party in a very visceral way. Unfortunately, all of this tension will be dispelled in the coming chapters, which makes very little sense to me in terms of forward progression of plot.

Farmer Maggot is the other high point of the chapter, in and of himself and also in the way he reveals aspects of the other hobbits' characters. He serves as a nice counterpoint to the gossipy, backbiting hobbits we encoutnered in earlier chapters. All in all, Tolkien seems to prefer the more provincial, "backwards" Eastfarthing hobbits to the pompous "gentrified" hobbits of Hobbiton. Once again, Maggot is very aware of the class difference between himself and Frodo and Pippin -- he is quick to address Pippin by the proper honorific, "Mr." (instead of the "Master" he would have received as an under-age but upper-class youngster). But he also does not hesitate to give sound advice and make shrewd deductions regarding Frodo's plans. Of course, he never really considers the fact that Frodo is in real trouble, or that he would actually want to leave the Shire at any point.

Some character notes: Frodo is not very good at duplicity and cannot even meet Maggot's eye when the farmer is speculating about the Riders. He also comes across as something of a worrier. Pippin is quite carefree but Tolkien manages to insert an edge of thoughtlessness into his dialogue that helps to set him apart from Frodo in characterization. Sam is stalwart and introspective. Nobody got any kind of physical description. This still irks me. We'll see if Merry gets any when he becomes a larger player in the next chapter.

All in all, not too much to write about. A decent chapter, with some well-crafted scenes and a likeable one-off character. I still think Tolkien is spinning his wheels with this whole "flight from the Shire" segment.

"A Short Cut To Mushrooms" - Jacob's Thoughts

Back during our discussion of ch. 2, I posited that Tolkien "wants to make sure the point is not lost, that no act of decency is ever wasted," that no matter how enveloping the encroaching darkness, a light can still come through it, "as through a chink in the dark."  My examples then were Bilbo's ultimate pity for Gollum, as well as Gollum's own latent, not-quite-forgotten humanity.

In this chapter, I see that same light shinning through in the basic decency revealed in that terror of Frodo's youth, the imposingly-named Farmer Maggot, who not only calls off the dogs on our intrepid short-cutters, but insists on feeding them dinner, giving them cover to the ferry, and in a touching gesture at the chapter's close, gifting Frodo a bag of the very mushrooms he whipped him for stealing in his youth.  Even before that moment, Frodo expresses regret that he never befriended Farmer Maggot after all these years of needless fear, and it is reassuring to see this warmth and light shimmering through and dissipating his frightened memories.  Frodo is learning even now that the darkness is never as complete as it first may seem (a lesson he'll need to remember in far more dire straits later).  This theme of a light in the dark is something I'd like to start tracking through our readings.

But then, in order for these chinks of light to reassure, the darkness itself must be genuinely threatening; and we get that menace in the Dark Riders, of whom we get the sense in this chapter are slowly circling around, closing in, getting closer.  They anticipated Frodo's shortcut through the mushrooms, getting there merely too early, not too late.  They are actively tracking him and getting better at it.  Their sinister hissing sounds almost like laughter, mocking Farmer Maggot's pitiful threats of releasing the dogs (who themselves cower in fear before them), which hints at the dark profundity of their power.  The question is no longer whether Frodo can avoid them, but only for how long. 

So I suppose here's a paradox presented in this chapter: the darkness is never as complete as Frodo fears, but the actual darkness is also far worst than he realizes; Frodo was afraid of the congenial Farmer Maggot, but unaware that the Dark Riders are what should be scaring the bejeezes out of him right now.  How is our Frodo, scared of barking dogs, going to face the fires of Mordor?  This chapter in a sense is a good mile-post for marking Frodo's slow growth as a character; he's not ready to face the worst yet (not even close), but we can see how one day he might--or, at least, how he'll have to.

This chapter is thus good for fleshing out Frodo's character, of whom I've lately realized that, besides a vague yearning for the "mountains" and general sentimental longing for Uncle Bilbo, really hasn't been given any distinguishing characteristics.  He's still somewhat of a cipher, a stock-figure, a place-holder for the reader on this journey.  Maybe it's his sufferings that will finally reveal Frodo to us; but then, come to think of it, it's our sufferings that reveals all of us, to each other and to ourselves, isn't it.

"Three is Company" - Ben's Thoughts

Uh-oh. Here we go. The stretch from "Three is Company" up to and not including "Fog on the Barrow-Downs" is, in my opinion, some of the weakest and most self-indulgent material in LOTR. I always had to resist the urge to skim through these chapters when I read them for fun in years past, and I feel my old frustration creeping up on me now as I dive into them on this "deeper" re-read. As Eric and Bender noted, pacing is a huge problem. This chapter, for example, while is does have some witty banter between the hobbits and some beautiful description of the Shire, goes by at a crawl. I'll go through my thoughts, as usual, and address some of the problems I see in the chapter along the way.

First things first -- Gandalf. He doesn't stick around for very long, but my main problem is that he is extremely vague about where to go and doling out advice to Frodo. He doesn't say when Frodo should leave (the right response to Frodo's question should have been "right now") and doesn't even tell him where to go; only when pressed does he tell Frodo that he thinks Frodo should steer for Rivendell. Why this reluctance to direct Frodo? In Book 2, Gandalf has no problem with telling the whole Fellowship what to do and how to do it. I suppose it's just a desire not to insert himself too heavily into Frodo's affairs -- that "telling" him what to do is altogether too Sauron-like -- but it seems a silly thing to me when the fate of Middle-earth is at stake. At any rate, this reluctance mirrors Gildor's "advice" at the end of the chapter, but there it felt a lot more natural. It is implied, if not stated outright, that these "wandering" groups of Elves are, in the long run at least, headed to the Grey Havens and across the sea to Valinor, so it makes sense that they would not want to complicate themselves in the affairs of the denizens of Middle-earth any more.

The best part of this chapter by far is the sequence of Frodo leaving Bag End and heading out of Hobbiton. It's a beautifully-written sequence. Frodo's nostalgia at leaving is palpable (although his statement of "I wonder if I will ever look into this valley again" is a bit melodramatic), and image of everyone emptying out of Bag End and abandoning it to the mercies of the Sackville-Bagginses is very poignant. Gandalf's absence is very ominous at this point, and this apprehension mixes well with the arrival of the black rider to Bag End, which Tolkien wisely leaves off-screen as a conversation between the Gaffer and the rider.

But this brings me back to my complaint about this stretch of chapters. I really think the problem with these chapters is a narrative one, not really one of pacing. Tolkien let himself get really involved with hobbit "politics," if you will -- he seems intensely interested in the details of how Frodo is going to get himself out of the Shire without attracting attention. While I guess this has an in-universe explanation -- too much noise about his departure might alert the black riders -- it seems overdone. This is one major change that Peter Jackson did right in the movies. He skipped right over all this traveling around in the Shire, except for the hobbits' adventures running away from the riders (which is altogether too overdone in the movies, but more on that later) and then they arrive at Bree.

The trouble with trying to explain how Frodo sneaks out of the Shire is that it gets the narrative bogged down in interludes at Farmer Maggot's, Crickhollow, and then -- shudder -- the Old Forest. Thinking about it here, I can't decide whether all this really stems from Tolkien's need to explain Frodo's sneaking out in the context of what he already laid down about hobbits and how they react to events, or whether it was an extended lead-up explaining how and why Frodo meets Tom Bombadil, who, by all accounts, was a Tolkien favorite. I suspect that when I get to Bombadil in a few chapters, I will find it a delightfully written piece that would stand well by itself, but does NOT belong in LOTR. We'll see.

One thing that this chapter could have done, but ultimately does not do, is fill in the gaps about what we know of the hobbit main characters. At this point, we know very little about Frodo and Sam, and even less about sidekicks Merry and Pippin (but the less said about extraneous, useless characters such as "Folco Boffin" and "Fatty Bolger" the better). Here, Pippin is established as a bit of a wise-cracker, somewhat eager to shirk work and entirely ready to order Sam around (he fully expects Sam to have the breakfasts ready for the "gentle-hobbits," for example). But Frodo shows some of those same traits, as well (he complains about his pack when he first puts it on). If memory serves, Pippin is supposed to be considerably younger than Frodo at this point (I do know that Pippin, at least, is younger than Sam, as well) and it would be nice to have something more to distinguish that age gap or maturity level at this point (I think it gets explored a bit more down the road -- hopefully when all the hobbits get in the same room as each other in the Crickhollow chapter I'll be able to tell them apart. Aside from Sam, at this point, they all blur together.) And would it have killed Tolkien to physically describe these guys? Aside from Sam's "curly hair," we know nothing about what they look like.

On the black rider -- I forgot that the rider's initial on-screen introduction is so minimal. It's only there for a couple of paragraphs and then is gone. There's no indication that the rider can sense the Ring at this point -- indeed, the moment when Frodo touches the chain the Ring is hanging on is the moment the rider decides to move on down the road. I'm going to have to continually remind myself that the Nazgül of the books are a far cry from those of the movies. Peter Jackson's vision of the ringwraiths is one of physical power -- brooding, menacing, sword-wielding maniacs who slash and hack their way to the Ring. Not so here. The black riders, especially at this point, are a far more existential threat -- there's really no sense of what would happen if they caught the hobbits at this point. Even the rider who approaches the hobbits at the end of the chapter is crawling on the ground -- a disturbing image, perhaps, but not physically threatening. I'm looking forward to talking more about them as the threat to the hobbits becomes more clear.

Some final notes on the Elves. It was a nice surprise to see Gildor referencing his house. I remembered that Gildor was a Noldor, but didn't remember that he referred to himself as a member of the house of Finrod. For those unfamiliar with the lineage of the high-Elves (of which Elrond is a product), the high-Elves returned to Middle-earth from Valinor under the leadership of the hot-headed Feänor, creator of the Silmarils. After Feänor's death at the hand's of Sauron's then-boss Morgoth, the Noldor were ruled by a succession of "High Kings," none of which fared very well in their battles against the Enemy. One of these (Feänor's half-brother's son) was named Finrod Felagund, and he figures prominently in the "Lay of Luthién" that will be referenced by Aragorn later. In the Lay, Finrod battled Sauron (who was a powerful shape-shifter at the time) to save the lives of Beren and Luthién, sacrificing his life as a result. Who knows if Tolkien had any of this pinned down when he actually wrote LOTR, but it's still nice to see it referenced.

Gildor is a great one-off character. He and the other Elves are such a contrast from the hobbits or Gandalf or anyone else we've met to this point. His cryptic warnings serve to clarify and rack up the tension considerably ("Is it not enough to know they are servants of the Enemy?" "Flee them!") while at the same time establishing another perspective of what is at stake if Frodo fails (Sauron will wipe out the Elves as well as the Shire if he prevails). It is a nice interlude that helped distract me from my irritation at the hobbits' petty goal to sneak out of the Shire. It's interesting, but I think Gildor's character is better-established and enjoyable than any other Elf in the books, except for Galadriel. He's just the right mix of camaraderie for Frodo, amusement towards the other hobbits, and otherworldly connection to Elf-magic (brought in through the references to Elbereth especially). I'm looking forward to seeing if that will end up being the case throughout the series.

"Three Is Company" - Jacob's Thoughts

 (Written from a Minneapolis airport on way back from Florida).

You know, I've taken some swipes here at the Peter Jackson films, but I must give him due credit: the pacing of his film The Fellowship of the Ring was just right. Things slowed at important moments but didn't drag or linger, while the rest of the action barreled along at a clipped pace.  (I'll leave alone for now how Jackson then so totally ruined the perfect pacing of The Hobbit ).  All that is a round-about way of getting to something that Ben mentioned last week and that Eric mentioned in his most recent post, but that I'd like to foreground this week: the problem of pacing.

My childhood memories of reading Lord of the Rings does entail me remembering how painfully slow these early chapters could be, which felt like such a chore to get through before I could get to the good stuff, and those memories are all flooding back to me now. While I agree with Eric that the details are necessary for immersing one in a sense of reality so that the stakes are raised, I also believe there must be balance. Yes, the whole Lord of the Rings could've been narrated in a sentence as "some guys throw a ring into a volcano" (which radical abbreviations are a fun game I've played with my own students to teach them the importance of not writing in vague generalities), but I do not think the tale is well served by its turn into hyper detail, recording every single mundane occurrence, as though this were some Andy Warholian performance project (serious, I had to read a book by Warhol in grad school called a: a novel, wherein Warhol gives an amphetamine addict a tape recorder for 24 hours then transcribes every single word he spoke that day into a book. I can practically hear Eric's eyes rolling at that one, but I still feel Tolkien errors too far towards Warhol 's radical expansionism than towards radical contraction, and that these chapters could've benefited from more of a balance between these two extremes).

That all being said, I'm not a total crank, and there were a couple parts of this chapter I found genuinely thought provoking, which, at the risk of contradicting myself, I may not have caught nor appreciated if we weren't reading at such a leisurely pace ourselves:

"But it is not your own Shire...Others dwelt here before Hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more.  The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out." -Gildor Inglorion

"He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: as springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary.  'It's dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say, 'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.  Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?'  He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk." -Frodo Baggins

"Three Is Company" - Eric's Thoughts

The chapter begins with Gandalf advising Frodo to wait for a while before leaving. Gandalf disappears, and Frodo sells his home to the Sackville Bagginses, who triumphantly take the keys. Frodo then sets off with Samwise and Pippin. At first the traveling through the Shire is beautiful and fine. A thoughtful fox makes an appearance, which made me laugh for its randomness:

A fox passing through the woods on business of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed. “Hobbits!” he thought. “Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There’s something mighty queer behind this.” He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.

But not soon after they are followed by a mysterious black rider that sniffs. Frodo, when near the black rider, feels the temptation to put on the ring. Fortunately, elves show up, and take Frodo and friends into company, where they feast, drink, and receive vague warnings to run from the black riders at all costs. But the elves don’t make an offer to help the hobbits reach Rivendell, even though they know they are being pursued by Mordor agents. Narcissistic elves, to say the least. (I sense another plot hole.)

Frodo really needed to say to that elf, “Thanks for nothing, Gildor. Take your worthless two pages of advice and shove it up your--Sam! So glad you're awake. Gildor and I were just talking.”

After speaking with Jacob on the phone about this chapter, Jacob thought the pacing was off at this point, but I didn’t particularly mind it. The stakes are raised with the appearance of the black riders. I remember the first time I read the book I kept thinking, Frodo, don’t go off the road! Maybe these black riders can tell you something important! But you quickly learn from the sniffing and from Gildor's warning that my advice would have not have boded so well for Frodo, or Middle Earth.

In terms of the writing, descriptions are becoming more common now. Tolkien is describing roads, scent laden pines, the leaves whispering, and starlit elf hair. These descriptions were much needed. But I still would like a little description about Frodo, Pippin, and Sam, which at this point is nonexistent.

With the appearance of the elves, reading this chapter reminded me of Henry Dyson, a member of the Inklings who, whenever an elf appeared in Tolkien’s story (to which Dyson was listening in their book club), Dyson would shout, “Oh God, not another elf!”

Steven King noted that in order to create realism with horror and fantasy, 95% of what you show needs to be mundane and very real, so when the ghost appears you believe it. So I think all of the descriptions and passing over the terrain is necessary to create that realism.

While I agree the chapter isn't riveting in its pace, I think the pacing, while maybe a tad bit slow, creates a sense of time, space and distance, and ultimately, realism. Sure, Tolkien could have written, “And so it happened that Frodo, Sam, and Pippin traveled night and day, and ran into a black rider that sniffed, and they were scared, but gladly Gildor of the elves showed up, and they feasted a merry night and slept soundly.” But that wouldn’t have been very satisfying at all. Drawing out the journey is necessary for a road trip book like Lord of the Rings.

Now, something I think that's a valid critique is that I would have liked more point of view for Frodo, or Sam, or Pippin. The point of view is not very clear, and no thoughts of a particular character are apparent. I think the story would have been stronger with a driving point of view that let me into a character’s thoughts.

Overall, while a slower chapter in terms of pacing, I would rate this one as not riveting, but not bad.

"The Shadow of the Past" - Eric's Thoughts

Backstory. That’s what fills this chapter. Frodo ages, Gandalf shows up and explains how this “One Ring” is dangerous, you learn a little about Gollum, and Sam gets caught eavesdropping.

Again what I am noticing is how sparse the descriptions are. Very little is described other than Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows and the ring itself. The story moves along (even more so in this chapter) purely by dialogue. The dialogue drives exposition and establishes the story’s First Great Quest: get the hell out of the Shire.

I think Tolkien did something very clever that most authors that are experienced know what to do: do not bring the backstory up immediately. Tolkien takes his time establishing Grubbs and Chubbs and Bagginses so that a real, breathing world is established. Once that is done, and the reader actually cares, Tolkien lays out a backstory that lays out the quest. This chapter wasn’t the most riveting since I already knew all of the backstory, but that’s not fair to Tolkien in terms of the chapter's merit. I recall being much more interested in this chapter when I was younger and didn’t know about rings of power and such. So to the experienced Tolkien reader, nothing new is established, and the text is a little slow. But to the new initiate, I remember this chapter being much more engaging during the first read when wanted to learn about the rings.

So in terms of a hero’s journey analysis, this fits right in: the story begins with a mundane sense of normality. Invitations are sent, a party occurs, and something menacing is foreshadowed. Then, in this chapter, the call to adventure occurs. Frodo must leave the Shire. (Interesting to note that the First Quest isn't the final quest. A Second Quest occurs later in the book in Rivendell that requires Frodo to actually go to Mordor itself and destroy the ring.) So far I’d say LOTR is following the hero’s formula pretty closely.

Sam gets caught during this exposition with his shears, which was a clever way to bring in a sidekick, if I may say so. Sam gets some good lines right off the bat. Gandalf asks, “how long have you been eavesdropping?” And Sam replies, “Eavesdropping, sir? I don’t follow you, begging your pardon. There ain’t no eaves at Bag End, and that’s a fact.”

What a smartass, and Gandalf rightly calls him out on it: “Don’t be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?” Gandalf’s eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.

That last line right there I think answers the question of how are we able to visualize Gandalf so well. Tolkien is using a classic writer’s trick to zero-in on a particular detail of a character, and then amplify it. In other words, Tolkien regularly references Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows to make the character come alive.

Now, what’s interesting here is that compared to earlier on, Sam comes across as a bumbling idiot, while earlier he was a noble, thoughtful fellow arguing against Ted the Sandyman that strange happenings were occurring. (Ben rightfully points this out.) And while I agree that it could just simply be a flaw in the writing, I also think that when a wizard like Gandalf is staring you down, and you think you’re going to be changed into a toad, your personality might change. So this can be reconciled to some degree.

But a particular plot hole, that is not reconciled, is why Gandalf just didn't toss the ring in the fireplace twelve years ago to make sure it’s the One Ring? For an omnipotent wise-old wizard that (later on) kills a Balrog and can spot Sam's not-so-obvious lie (sarcasm), he certainly seems an idiot. (Now, scholars defending the book might point out that maybe Gandalf learned that little fire trick just recently, but I don’t buy it. I think it’s a legitimate plot hole that needed to be directly addressed.)

In response to your question, Ben, I did read the Similarion long ago and remember finding it to be memorably dull. (By that I mean I particularly remember it being dull.) I remember that Morgoth wasn’t such a nice guy, and I remember that Sauron was a lieutenant, and that men chose to be men instead of elves, and later generations cursed their ancestors for that foolish decision. I can totally understand where those men are coming from—I think I would curse them too. Who wouldn’t want to live as an immortal who never suffered disease? (Though, as food for thought, perhaps we all are just descendants of those very men that chose not to be elves. Possible, right? And kind of depressing. We could have been elves.)

Although I think I will address this later, Ben is correct that removing Gandalf was critical to raising the stakes in the story. You’ve got to get rid of the helper for the hero to truly grow. Now, what’s interesting is, Gandalf helps later on, but not early on. I’ll discuss this later in more detail. But don't bring it up yet! Gandalf hasn't left yet!

Jacob makes some astute observations. As he points out, the most gripping character in the chapter is not even the characters onstage, but trials of Smeagol and how just a corner of his mind remains his own. Even on a second read, that to me was the most compelling part of this chapter: that an evil creature still clings to a yarn of goodness, and that many lives may yet depend on the pity of Bilbo. A perfectly foreshadowed moment to the ending, and something worth thinking about for a moment: that without Smeagol, Sauron would have won.

"The Shadow of the Past" - Ben's Thoughts

My general thought about "The Shadow of the Past" is "heavy on exposition." Pretty simplistic and obvious, but there it is. On my re-reads of LOTR, this chapter always strikes me as one that was probably a lot more fun to read the first time through. It tends to drag on subsequent re-reads. Let's dive right into Gandalf's explanation of the Ring that sets up the rest of the story, and I'll get to the bookends of the chapter -- characterization of Sam Gamgee -- in a minute.

Right from the beginning of Gandalf and Frodo's chat, the reader is clued in to the fact that LOTR is going to be "darker and edgier" (™) than The Hobbit. "Goblins" have become "orcs," trolls are no longer dull-witted (no Bert and Fred in evidence here), and "worse things" are apparently abroad (no real follow-up on this, perhaps Gandalf was referring to the Nazgûl, but if I recall correctly he seems genuinely surprised that they show up in the Shire later). This chapter alone references not only Sauron and his minions, but dwarves, ancient elves (both high-Elves and wood-elves), men of "Westernesse" (I had no idea what this was referring to before I read Silmarillion), and the names of hobbit breeds (Stoors vs. Fallohides, particularly). A ton of complexity added in just one short chapter.

This change from Hobbit's simplicity is both a blessing and a boon at these early stages. Some things (like "Westernesse") leave the reader out to sea, I believe. I don't think Tolkien does a good enough job of clarifying what the relationship of Sauron was to the Ring-makers in this chapter. When I was a kid, I had no idea who or what they were; even the appendices did not clear that up much (the name of the chief Ring-maker, "Celebrimbor," was exceedingly opaque) and not until the Silmarillion did I understand that these were Noldor, led by a descendant of Feänor. Since the history of the rings is never really very relevant to the story after this point, I suppose that Tolkien didn't need to spend a lot of time on it or clarify it to the degree that would have pleased me, but it does seem like something of a flaw.

Additionally, the existence of "rings" within the story always felt a little odd after delving into Tolkien's mythos a bit more. From Silmarillion, it's clear that Elves (especially the Eldar, or those that chose to go to "Valinor," Tolkien's take on the Asgard of Norse myths) had a lot of power in and of themselves, but it was mainly linked to their personal righteousness and morality -- when the Elves became more concerned with material things (a recurring theme throughout the Silmarillion) and especially when they made questionable decisions connected with their lust after comforts and objects that represented physical beauty, their powers waned and they were able to be overcome by the powers of evil (the fallen god Morgoth in Silmarillion, of whom Sauron was only a lieutenant). So where do rings fit in with that spectrum of power and morality? It's kind of hand-waved that Celebrimbor and the Ring-makers were able to pour parts of their own power into the Rings of Power (thus sort-of explaining why the power of the Elves fades at the end of the book, when the Three Rings become useless), but how exactly does the One Ring have power over the other races' rings? And how exactly did Sauron corrupt the work of the Ring-makers with respect to the Seven and Nine rings? It's all very fuzzy, and, I think, something of a cheap hand-wave to explain why a "magic ring" is the MacGuffin of the story when it really doesn't fit in all that well. It seems to me that Tolkien was boxed in a little bit by the fact that The Hobbit had a magic ring in it 'because that's the sort of thing that shows up in these stories' (I think there's even a line in Hobbit to that effect).

Now, don't get me wrong, the Ring is a compelling icon in the books, even in this initial chapter. Its insidious effect is quite potent, and brings forth interesting facets in all the characters that encounter it directly. Even here, the physical description of the Ring itself gets more screen-time than any description of the physical attributes of Frodo himself (a concept I think I'll touch on in subsequent chapters more than here):

"It now appeared plain and smooth, without mark or device that he could see. The gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was its color, how perfect was its roundness. It was an admirable thing and altogether precious." [Note how he sneaks the word 'precious' in there, after Gandalf made such a big deal about it earlier. Very clever.]

In the end, all this makes me wonder how Tolkien changed "Bilbo's magic ring" to "The One Ring" conceptually in his mind, and whether that was the plan all along. I doubt it. I'm sure someone who is more versed in Tolkien lore than I would be able to answer this question, but I don't know if anyone else here can -- would I be wrong in saying that I have read the most Tolkien between the three of us? Has anyone else read The Silmarillion? What about any of the Unfinished Tales or other supplemental material published by Christopher Tolkien? I have read a few of these, but certainly not everything that's out there.

Anyway, moving on. Beyond the backstory, what I was most interested in during my read of this chapter was the characterization. Gandalf doesn't get too much, aside from being mysterious -- although it is telling that he makes several quite cutting put-downs towards Frodo. Like this one, for example, when Frodo asks why he was chosen (by the mysterious 'powers that be' that Gandalf referenced; what exactly was he talking about there? The Valar?):

"'Such questions cannot be answered,' said Gandalf. 'You may be sure that [you did not receive the Ring] for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.'"

Ouch. Gandalf is also quite arrogant about his knowledge and power, refusing to share things with Frodo even when asked point-blank. I wonder if Tolkien is here setting him up for his fall in his confrontation with Saruman. I always thought Tolkien was quite clever in removing Gandalf from much of Book 1 of "Fellowship," because it raises the stakes for the poor bumbling hobbits, but it is interesting in light of how much we see of him at this point.

Tolkien also spends a bit more time on Frodo here -- finally -- and I can certainly relate to Frodo's restlessness. He feels something pulling him towards the mountains, towards adventure (even so much that mountains are appearing in his dreams), and I don't think this is any insidious effect of the Ring -- I think it is his own nature that wishes to explore the wide world. I myself feel a very powerful connection to mountains in particular. I live in a (relatively) flat place, and deeply miss the mountains of my college days. Frodo's sense of time passing and and anxiousness to get in motion is something that I believe we have all experienced in our lives. Our finite existence (depending on what you believe, at least finite in our present state of being) continually presses upon us.

Finally we get to Sam. Right off the bat, Sam is presented extremely sympathetically, standing up to Ted Sandyman and generally coming across as a thoughtful individual quite different from most of the hobbits we have encountered to this point. Perhaps more tellingly is the fact that Sam walks home thoughtful under the stars -- stars are almost always associated with the Elves in Tolkien's mythos (they are called, after all, the "Quendi" -- "people of the stars"), and an interest in Elves is always associated with a sense of self and community greater than just the immediate here and now.

But what is interesting about this introduction is what a contrast it is with the buffoonish Sam we encounter at the end of the chapter. Here he's characterized with bad jokes, poor excuses, and, perhaps most damningly, a pair of "Lor bless me"s that could not be further from his quiet strength we saw earlier. Why this change? Was it simply that Tolkien wrote one of these scenes earlier than the other, and didn't reconcile the two Sam's? That would make a lot of sense to me -- the Sam at the beginning of the chapter is a lot like the thoughtful hero we encounter in "Return of the King." Or perhaps Tolkien was emphasizing the class disparity between Frodo and Sam; the dialect is certainly played up in the scene that features the two of them together. I don't know if I have any answers, but I was decidedly put-off by the "dunce" Sam that we see at the end of the chapter.

In the end, "Shadow of the Past" glided through almost completely neutrally for me. I didn't talk much about the backstory itself, because it didn't do a lot for me -- I have read about it so many times before that it doesn't feel fresh anymore. I loved Sam's introduction at the beginning -- but that was all undone by his final appearance in the chapter. Dunno. I'm beginning to recall that this stretch of Book 1 was a little tedious. Things don't really pick up until we get to Bree. We'll have to see going forward.

"The Shadow of the Past" - Jacob's Thoughts

(I'm heading to Chicago this weekend, so I'm putting this post up a day early).

I was a sensitive child growing up--and often a frightened one.  Thank goodness I had such kind, nurturing parents growing up, or who knows how I might have turned out.  I suspect my parents suspected it to, for unlike Eric and Ben, I wasn't introduced to the unsettling world of The Hobbit till the ripe old age of 10, which I dutifully read mainly to please my parents.  My Mom immediately encouraged me to move on to The Lord of the Rings right after, in what part of me suspects was an attempt to toughen me up.

I mention this because, after the whimsy and fun of The Hobbit and "A Long Expected Party," the tone takes a decidedly darker turn in "The Shadow of the Past."  There are rumors of Dark Lords returning, Dwarves and Elves are immigrating to havens, and magic rings that were just prankish toys a novel ago suddenly have such alarming side-effects as enslaving your mind and thinning you out of existence, leaving you an invisible ghost sans body, sans soul (a thought I found horrifying even just a day ago, let alone as a quiet 10-year-old).  As Ben noted, the playful morning smoke-rings of Gandalf with Bilbo in The Hobbit has been replaced by a brooding fireplace with Frodo at night, discussing the advancing darkness.  The contrast couldn't be clearer.  As of chapter 2, Tolkien has fired his warning shots: we are no longer in children's novel territory; the easily terrified need not apply.

Though my memories of my first reading are sadly dimmer than Ben and Eric's, I do remember having the distinct impression by pg. 100 that if I was going to finish this series (if for no other reason than to not disappoint Mom), then I would have to steel myself mentally for this long journey in the same way Frodo must here.  Nowadays, I can read, say, House of Leaves or Samuel Beckett without qualm, but it was a long road getting here, and I do think it started with my first reading of Lord of the Rings.

Of course, this chapter isn't all darkness, not totally--Gandalf makes three observations about Bilbo's stewardship of the Ring that gives us hope for not only Frodo, but also for the existence of basic goodness in this world.

First: on the topic of Bilbo's final renunciation of the Ring, Gandalf says, "For he gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point." After several pages on how the Ring can obsess your mind and waste your body, this reassurance that one can still break one's addiction to this most awful of drugs really is encouraging.

Second: in response to Frodo's cry of "what a pity that Bilbo didn't kill Gollum when he had the chance," Gandalf replies, "Pity?  It was pity that stayed his hand.  Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need.  And he has been well rewarded, Frodo.  Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so.  With Pity."  A more cruel novel might have punished every good deed, as Bilbo's pity inadvertently betrays the entire Shire; but here Gandalf (and presumably Tolkien too) wants to make sure the point is not lost, that no act of decency is ever wasted.  (And in case any one wondered if Tolkien had planned out the entire series from the beginning before writing, Gandalf's "the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many--yours not least" is a strong clue to the affirmative!)

Third, and most important: as Gandolf explains, "The Ring was trying to get back to its master.  It had slipped from Isildur's hand and betrayed him; then when a chance came it caught poor Deagol, and he was murdered; and after that Gollum, and it had devoured him.  It could make no further use of him...So now, when its master was awake once more and sending out his dark thought from Mirkwood, it abandonded Gollum.  Only to be picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!"

Here's the line I really want to emphasize:  "Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker.  I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker.  In which case you also were meant to have it.  And that may be an encouraging thought."

An encouraging thought indeed!  After the titular "Shadows" of this chapter have near enveloped the world beyond saving, Gandalf makes clear that different forces are also at play, much brighter ones, that even an ancient Dark Lord of unimaginable terror cannot anticipate.  The Ring may be powerful, but it is not omnipotent!  There is hope yet.  As Gandalf says of Gollum, "Even Gollum was not wholly ruined.  He had proved tougher than even one of the Wise could have guessed--as a hobbit might.  There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and light came through it, as through a chink in the dark: light out of the past."  The same could be said of this chapter--a light came through it, as through a chink in the dark.

This chapter is a data dump done right.  It is made up of insinuation, implication, dark hints that are more frightening in their obscurity than all of Peter Jackson's blunt obviousness and CGI battle sequences.

"A Long-Expected Party" - Eric's Thoughts

My unexpected journey into literature and the Lord of the Rings began in fifth grade. One day my fifth grade teacher pulled out The Hobbit and began reading. One chapter a day. It was mesmerizing. I would place my head down on my cool desk and listen, and imagine Middle Earth.

When we finished, I checked out my own copy of The Hobbit from the library and reread it. And the inside front-jacket of The Hobbit revealed that there was a sequel! Lord of the Rings. It had a really cool sound to it. I immediately wanted it.

So I went to the library the next day, walked up to the gray-haired librarian and asked for a copy. She told me it was checked out. I felt on the verge of tears.

I didn’t give up -- I’m not the type to give up easily. Every week I went to the library and asked for it, and every week got the same answer.

“Sorry, but it’s been checked out.”

Months passed. Once I managed to find an un-checked-out copy of Return of the King, but apparently that was the third book in the series. I sadly put it back on the library shelf and sighed. Unsurprisingly, it was gone the next week. As still was the Fellowship.

Come sixth grade I finally managed to drag my dad down to the bookstore, where I forced him to purchase a paperback LOTR set for me. I immediately began to read.

I loved it, and remember the experience of reading Lord of the Rings as surreal. I reread the story over and over again, and would carry one of the three books with me wherever  I would go.

In fact, Lord of the Rings was the only way I survived church growing up. The most important decision I made before going to church was whether to pack the Fellowship, Towers, or King. I would place a copy in between my Bible and my mom would hiss at me when she saw me reading the non-liturgical text.

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” That’s as about as far as I could get before I would sneak my LOTR copy back into my Bible and smile as Gimli and Legolas counted orcs. Sometimes I would try to be a good boy and read about Adam and Eve, but truthfully Gandalf and Frodo interested me much more.

As I revisit the books, what I’m interested in two things. First, how the books stack up to what I remember as a child. And second, analysis from a writer’s viewpoint: language, character, setting, beautiful turns of phrase.

As a child, I remember A Long Expected Party as the boring part. I wasn’t particularly fascinated by the village gossip Gaffer, and could care less about those Sackville-Bagginses.

Now I know better, of course, and see immediately what Tolkien is doing. The Sackville-Bagginses is a brilliant stroke that shoots four arrows in one pull. First, it establishes immediate familial relations for Bilbo, making him seem like a legitimate person. Second, it humanizes Bilbo in a way that never happened in The Hobbit. Bilbo does not like the Sackville-Bagginses, and as a result, he comes across as more human. Third, in terms of world building, it hints at an iceberg much deeper than we actually touch, but the fact that we believe the iceberg is there, makes it real. And fourth, the name and constant antagonistic interactions are funny as hell.

One thing I notice is that the descriptions of scene and character are very minimal. But I think Tolkien gets away with it because names and places are referenced in a way that almost seems Biblical in scope. It is only too clear that he is the complete master of his world, and as a result, we are whisked away into it.

Overall, the chapter is quite enjoyable, funny, and lighthearted, but hints at darkness to come. All in all, a delightful read.

Some random thoughts:

• The short scene with Gandalf and Bilbo, with Bilbo hinting at a joke he will play at the party, is brilliant in its simplicity and foreshadowing.
• Tolkien liberally references names and places, such as from the Mountain and from Dale, and the Brandywine Bridge.
• The tone seems very lighthearted, with names like Chubbs and Grubbs, and the fact that the hobbits when asking Bilbo to speak, shouting, “Hear! Hear! Hear!” and “kept on repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice.”
• As Jacob points out, the scene between Bilbo and Gandalf is quite sinister.
• Is the use of the name of Hornblower a reference or tribute to the C.S. Forester series?
• The wastepaper basket shows an acerbic wit that humanizes Bilbo as a Hobbit who has pitfalls and feelings just like as ordinary person does.

Descriptive Phrases:

• “An old man was driving [a cart] all alone. He wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that sstuck out beyond the brim of his hat.” (Gandalf, Loc 737)
• “The late afternoon was bright and peaceful. The flowers glowed red and golden: snapdragons and sunflowers, and nasturtiums trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in at the round windows.”
• “But there was also a generous distribution of squibs, crackers, backarappers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles, elf-fountains, goblin-barkers and thunderclaps.”
• “There were rockets like the flight of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices.”
• “The Sackville-Bagginses were not forgotten. Otho and his wife Obelia were present. They disliked Bilbo and destested Frodo, but so magnificent was the invitation card, written in golden ink, that they had felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides, their cousin, Bilbo, had been specializing in food for many years and his table had a high reputation.”
• “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment.”
• “They all feared that a song or some poetry was now imminent, and they were getting bored. Why couldn’t he stop talking and let them drink his health?”
• “From a locked drawer, smelling of moth balls, he took out an old cloak and hood.”