So we've finally reached the end of the first book of the Lord of the Rings. I feel as though we've come a great journey just blogging about it. The experience really has been fun. I enjoyed reading Ben and Jacob's posts. Jacob of course is a literary scholar, and knows the proper terms for things, and Ben of course is a Tolkien scholar, who always adds a little Similarion backstory that us little people don't know.
This and Moria are the two best segments in the book. Boromir, an altogether flat character for most of the book, reveals himself to be the first to fall to the Ring, and also reveals depth that we haven't seen anywhere in the books so far. Maybe, he falls first because he's the most desperate to save his people. That makes his fall even more tragic. I didn't particularly mind his grand soliloquy like Ben did. When Boromir starts discussing how he will become a great leader and lead men to victory, it shows that the Ring draws out a person's wildest fantasies of what they could do with unlimited power. In fact, for us readers, his speech even seems comic, especially in light of how serious he's taking himself. I'm don't think that Galadriel necessarily put those thoughts in his head as perhaps merely teased out what he already felt? And what ruler wouldn't want more lands, to better serve his people?
I agree that Aragon, and the rest of the company, come off as a little bullheaded. They seem to be forgetting that the whole purpose of this expedition was because there was no other choice. Surely Aragon should have known that. Better to leave the Ring with Tom Bombadil than let it fester in the heart of Minas Tirith. But of course, it had to be that way to allow for the confrontation between Frodo and Boromir, which is one of the most intense scenes in the book.
I think that Ben and Jacob both really captured the highlights of this chapter, so I think I'll use this space to reflect on Fellowship as a whole.
The sense that I got from the reread was that there are some great scenes, but also a flawed early-middle portion where Tolkien doesn't really know where to take the story--the scenes with Tom Bombadil feel out of space, as does the scene where the Hobbits are attacked by ghosts and find their swords, and travel through the Old Forest. Let's look at the structure as a whole:
Bilbo's Party --> Gandalf Throwing Ring into Fire, Warning Frodo --> Frodo Leaving with Hobbits, including Farmer Maggot --> Black Riders sniffing, and elves --> Appearance of Merry and the Conspiracy --> Old Forest, Bombadil, Wraiths --> Bree --> Flight with Strider and Weathertop, and Frodo getting stabbed --> The River Crossing --> Rivendel, rest chapters --> Traveling to Cadharas, getting stuck on the Mountain --> Moria --> Lorien and the Elves, and Galadriel --> More Elves and Gifts from Lorien --> a Trip down a River --> and Boromir's Fall and Frodo and Sam Running off
I might be missing something, but I think that about covers it. Overall, the drag chapters, for me at least, seem to occur when Frodo is waiting around early on, some of the early travels of the Hobbits, the three terrible chapters of which you know I speak, Lorien, Farewell to Lorien, and the Great River.
Still, at this point in the book I don't really have a good sense of character. I think a big part of this is Tolkien's choice of omniscient narrator, where point of view shifts interchangeably without pattern in any given chapter. As a result, we are not left with a single character to identify with, do not know his thoughts, and therefore they feel flat. As a fun writing exercise, maybe when Lord of the Rings becomes public domain someone could rewrite it from the point of view of a particular character for each chapter, but still keep to the main narrative. Jacob? Ben? You want to try?
Overall, in writing these blog posts, I really feel like I've accomplished something. And yet, suddenly thinking that there are TWO MORE BOOKS of similar length, I feel terror just as Frodo does. There are a daunting number of chapters yet to blog about.
Onward we go!
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
"The Great River" - Eric's Thoughts
There was a river in this chapter. They go down it.
Enough said, on to blogging the Breaking of the Fellowship!
Enough said, on to blogging the Breaking of the Fellowship!
Thursday, November 13, 2014
"The Breaking of the Fellowship" - Ben's Thoughts
The Fellowship breaks! I guess. This chapter is only Part 1 of 2, the cliffhanger to be resolved next week. Or next book. There's a lot to like about this chapter, but also a lot that irks me. It's an imperfect ending to the best book (in my humble opinion) of the trilogy.
First, as Jacob dealt with in depth, Boromir's "betrayal." Part of me thinks that his snap with reality comes out of left field, while part of me thinks that Tolkien very carefully set it up. Boromir has been very interested in Frodo for several chapters now, ever since his encounter with Galadriel's "test" in Lorien, and there have been several beats throughout these chapters that indicate that Something Is Up with our favorite Gondorian (Gondor-man?) However, the depth of Boromir's hubris just explodes forth in this chapter in a way that wasn't broadcast previously. I mean, Boromir has always been arrogant -- for example, his touting the strength of arms of Men at the Council of Elrond, and subtly disparaging the other races in the struggle through the snow at Caradhras. But this, speaking of his desire to lord it over nations and become a benevolent king -- never mind that his dad, the Steward of Gondor, is the current ruler of the land -- seems to stem directly from what Galadriel put into his head. That... bothers me, on some level, that such dangerous ideas are implied to have come from Galadriel. Frodo thinks that the evil of the Ring is already working among the company, but we have no proof that Boromir's delusions came from the Ring at all! A frustrating oversight on Tolkien's part.
I don't want to turn this into a book-movie comparison, but since this chapter is one of the few things that Peter Jackson et al really get right about the movie "Fellowship," I am going to go into some detail about my thoughts. Boromir's character is given far more opportunity in the movie than he is in the books. The scene on the mountain, where Boromir handles the Ring that has fallen off of Frodo's neck, is a masterpiece of suspense, with Aragorn's hand gripping his sword hidden behind Frodo's body. It also moves Boromir's speech about "so much fear and doubt" stemming from "such a little thing" to the mountainside, which serves to preface his fascination with the Ring in particular that develops throughout the Quest. Then, later, when Galadriel comments that "the Quest stands upon the edge of a knife," we know she is testing Boromir, who shudders in shame at what he is made to consider. Finally, in the film, Boromir does not rant about becoming a king or commander of armies -- the subtext may be implied, but he speaks to Frodo only about the Ring being the salvation of Gondor. All of this rings true far better than Boromir's sudden outbursts in the original text. Additionally, because he is set up in the second half of the film as the anti-Aragorn, the failed version of the future king, his death is all the more tragic in comparison. I'll talk more about how that death thematically belongs in this book in Chapter 1 of "Two Towers."
Aragorn does not come off well in this chapter, I think. Instead of providing advice or counsel to Frodo, he calls a public meeting, does not voice opinion, and tells Frodo that he must decide what to do. His words do not specify whether Frodo's decision is binding on the entire company, or just on Frodo himself. The far better thing to say would be that he would follow Frodo even to Mordor, if that was his choice, and then send him off to decide. Tolkien's version of Aragorn is extremely reluctant to go to Mordor, and will not voice any support of that idea. Even in private, to the other members of the Fellowship, his skepticism is clear, and he states that he would only wish to have Gimli and himself (and, he adds grudgingly, Sam) accompany Frodo if he ultimately chooses the Eastern road. This Aragorn thinks the eastward road is hopeless. This Aragorn wants to visit Minas Tirith and serve her once more before the end. This Aragorn has had no hope since the fall of Gandalf. A depressing mindset, indeed.
The attitude of the other members of the Fellowship is no better, unfortunately. Gimli and Legolas both indicate their preference of Minas Tirith. Are they just that scared to pursue the eastern road? Do they just not believe that it is possible to get unnoticed to Mount Doom without the help of an army? Pippin and Merry, as well, reveal their utter cluelessness, and Merry foolishly babbles about how they didn't understand that the quest that involved going to Mordor would actually lead them anywhere near Mordor. No wonder Boromir has such little faith in "halflings" if he's been hanging around these two nitwits.
The most powerful moment in this chapter, in my mind, is Frodo's vision on top of Amon Hen. It is clear that this is a place where a vision will unfold only in proportion to the power and ability of the person seeking, or sitting, upon the chair. Frodo is empowered by the Ring; the vision that unfolds is all-encompassing because he is embued with a portion of the power of Sauron himself. He sees nations mustering armies; he sees as far north as Mirkwood and as far south as Harad; he provides us with our first glimpse of the faded splendor of Minas Tirith; and, most horribly, he shows us for the first time the stronghold of the Enemy, revealing in some small measure exactly why Aragorn feels so hopeless about the odds of the Quest succeeding. I like the extra-physical qualities of the Eye of Sauron, as well; far from being a visible glaring eye perched on top of Barad-dur like a lighthouse, this Eye is percieved and felt rather than seen; Frodo's presence is almost recognized and barely missed by a malevolent, and wholly unseen force. Very creepy; very effective prose. Frodo's vision rolls back the "fog of war," as it were, covering the nations of Middle-earth and sets up the points of conflict of the next two books: Rohan, Orthanc, Minas Tirith, Minas Morgul, Mount Doom itself. Descriptions like that are how one ends the first book in a trilogy.
Finally, a word about the stalwart hero of the chapter: Samwise Gamgee. Of all the Company, he is the one who knows Frodo best, and thus is the one that understands his mind the most completely. He sees almost immediately that Frodo will try to go to Mordor alone, and he is the one to point out the obvious, that the rest of the Company is too deluded (or idiotic, in the case of the brainless Merry and Pippin) to see -- that Minas Tirith is a useless dead end for the Ringbearer. Aragorn recognizes this point, as he concedes that Denethor could not hope to hold back Sauron if Elrond couldn't, but he doesn't take the next logical leap that the only viable option for Middle-earth is to go east, not west.
No, it falls to Sam to raise the issue, urge the Company into action to find Frodo after they've all been sitting around like lumps dreading his return and choice, and to keep his head and return to the river to catch Frodo in the act of watercraft theft. Frodo's resistance to Sam's company on the dangerous journey is fairly nonexistent, and Sam even provides a ray of sunshine to Frodo's belief that they'll never see the other members of the Fellowship again: " 'Yet we may, Mr Frodo. We may.' " Apparently Frodo subscribes to the Aragornian brand of hopelessness, despite realizing that Minas Tirith is a fools choice, but Sam maintains his sunny disposition to the very end.
I have to approve of Tolkien's choice to put Frodo and Sam's departure at the very end of this book, while frowning at his inability to put Boromir's death here where it belongs. More on that and how Aragorn is completely shafted, character-development-wise, in the first post on "Two Towers." In the meantime, how about a movie rewatch blog post from each of us before we launch into the next book? Surely we all have access to a copy of Mr Jackson's "Fellowship"? Or what about the Ralph Bakshi, while we're at it? Anyone? Anyone?
First, as Jacob dealt with in depth, Boromir's "betrayal." Part of me thinks that his snap with reality comes out of left field, while part of me thinks that Tolkien very carefully set it up. Boromir has been very interested in Frodo for several chapters now, ever since his encounter with Galadriel's "test" in Lorien, and there have been several beats throughout these chapters that indicate that Something Is Up with our favorite Gondorian (Gondor-man?) However, the depth of Boromir's hubris just explodes forth in this chapter in a way that wasn't broadcast previously. I mean, Boromir has always been arrogant -- for example, his touting the strength of arms of Men at the Council of Elrond, and subtly disparaging the other races in the struggle through the snow at Caradhras. But this, speaking of his desire to lord it over nations and become a benevolent king -- never mind that his dad, the Steward of Gondor, is the current ruler of the land -- seems to stem directly from what Galadriel put into his head. That... bothers me, on some level, that such dangerous ideas are implied to have come from Galadriel. Frodo thinks that the evil of the Ring is already working among the company, but we have no proof that Boromir's delusions came from the Ring at all! A frustrating oversight on Tolkien's part.
I don't want to turn this into a book-movie comparison, but since this chapter is one of the few things that Peter Jackson et al really get right about the movie "Fellowship," I am going to go into some detail about my thoughts. Boromir's character is given far more opportunity in the movie than he is in the books. The scene on the mountain, where Boromir handles the Ring that has fallen off of Frodo's neck, is a masterpiece of suspense, with Aragorn's hand gripping his sword hidden behind Frodo's body. It also moves Boromir's speech about "so much fear and doubt" stemming from "such a little thing" to the mountainside, which serves to preface his fascination with the Ring in particular that develops throughout the Quest. Then, later, when Galadriel comments that "the Quest stands upon the edge of a knife," we know she is testing Boromir, who shudders in shame at what he is made to consider. Finally, in the film, Boromir does not rant about becoming a king or commander of armies -- the subtext may be implied, but he speaks to Frodo only about the Ring being the salvation of Gondor. All of this rings true far better than Boromir's sudden outbursts in the original text. Additionally, because he is set up in the second half of the film as the anti-Aragorn, the failed version of the future king, his death is all the more tragic in comparison. I'll talk more about how that death thematically belongs in this book in Chapter 1 of "Two Towers."
Aragorn does not come off well in this chapter, I think. Instead of providing advice or counsel to Frodo, he calls a public meeting, does not voice opinion, and tells Frodo that he must decide what to do. His words do not specify whether Frodo's decision is binding on the entire company, or just on Frodo himself. The far better thing to say would be that he would follow Frodo even to Mordor, if that was his choice, and then send him off to decide. Tolkien's version of Aragorn is extremely reluctant to go to Mordor, and will not voice any support of that idea. Even in private, to the other members of the Fellowship, his skepticism is clear, and he states that he would only wish to have Gimli and himself (and, he adds grudgingly, Sam) accompany Frodo if he ultimately chooses the Eastern road. This Aragorn thinks the eastward road is hopeless. This Aragorn wants to visit Minas Tirith and serve her once more before the end. This Aragorn has had no hope since the fall of Gandalf. A depressing mindset, indeed.
The attitude of the other members of the Fellowship is no better, unfortunately. Gimli and Legolas both indicate their preference of Minas Tirith. Are they just that scared to pursue the eastern road? Do they just not believe that it is possible to get unnoticed to Mount Doom without the help of an army? Pippin and Merry, as well, reveal their utter cluelessness, and Merry foolishly babbles about how they didn't understand that the quest that involved going to Mordor would actually lead them anywhere near Mordor. No wonder Boromir has such little faith in "halflings" if he's been hanging around these two nitwits.
The most powerful moment in this chapter, in my mind, is Frodo's vision on top of Amon Hen. It is clear that this is a place where a vision will unfold only in proportion to the power and ability of the person seeking, or sitting, upon the chair. Frodo is empowered by the Ring; the vision that unfolds is all-encompassing because he is embued with a portion of the power of Sauron himself. He sees nations mustering armies; he sees as far north as Mirkwood and as far south as Harad; he provides us with our first glimpse of the faded splendor of Minas Tirith; and, most horribly, he shows us for the first time the stronghold of the Enemy, revealing in some small measure exactly why Aragorn feels so hopeless about the odds of the Quest succeeding. I like the extra-physical qualities of the Eye of Sauron, as well; far from being a visible glaring eye perched on top of Barad-dur like a lighthouse, this Eye is percieved and felt rather than seen; Frodo's presence is almost recognized and barely missed by a malevolent, and wholly unseen force. Very creepy; very effective prose. Frodo's vision rolls back the "fog of war," as it were, covering the nations of Middle-earth and sets up the points of conflict of the next two books: Rohan, Orthanc, Minas Tirith, Minas Morgul, Mount Doom itself. Descriptions like that are how one ends the first book in a trilogy.
Finally, a word about the stalwart hero of the chapter: Samwise Gamgee. Of all the Company, he is the one who knows Frodo best, and thus is the one that understands his mind the most completely. He sees almost immediately that Frodo will try to go to Mordor alone, and he is the one to point out the obvious, that the rest of the Company is too deluded (or idiotic, in the case of the brainless Merry and Pippin) to see -- that Minas Tirith is a useless dead end for the Ringbearer. Aragorn recognizes this point, as he concedes that Denethor could not hope to hold back Sauron if Elrond couldn't, but he doesn't take the next logical leap that the only viable option for Middle-earth is to go east, not west.
No, it falls to Sam to raise the issue, urge the Company into action to find Frodo after they've all been sitting around like lumps dreading his return and choice, and to keep his head and return to the river to catch Frodo in the act of watercraft theft. Frodo's resistance to Sam's company on the dangerous journey is fairly nonexistent, and Sam even provides a ray of sunshine to Frodo's belief that they'll never see the other members of the Fellowship again: " 'Yet we may, Mr Frodo. We may.' " Apparently Frodo subscribes to the Aragornian brand of hopelessness, despite realizing that Minas Tirith is a fools choice, but Sam maintains his sunny disposition to the very end.
I have to approve of Tolkien's choice to put Frodo and Sam's departure at the very end of this book, while frowning at his inability to put Boromir's death here where it belongs. More on that and how Aragorn is completely shafted, character-development-wise, in the first post on "Two Towers." In the meantime, how about a movie rewatch blog post from each of us before we launch into the next book? Surely we all have access to a copy of Mr Jackson's "Fellowship"? Or what about the Ralph Bakshi, while we're at it? Anyone? Anyone?
Sunday, November 2, 2014
"Farewell to Lórien" - Eric's Thoughts
I really liked this chapter when I was younger. For me, part of the fun of reading about adventures is not only seeing new places, but also vicariously acquiring loot. Really adventures are often about the loot, and gaining artifacts or mastery of self that allow progression into the next stage of the adventure. The Brothers Grimm are a classic example of this. In those stories, the pauper or prince would acquire a magical item that allows justice to be done in the world, and a wrong righted. In the Grimm stories, heroes are given a tablecloth that magically provides food for those that are starving, guns that never miss, and bags where men with sticks jump out to beat on the bad guys. When I read these stories, I felt like I too had acquired something magical and used it to right a wrong.
We like this archetype because the stories illustrate the principle that the good man will acquire the artifact that will allow good to triumph over evil. We like this archetype because so often in real life evil very often triumphs over good. This is why stories like Game of Thrones upset us so much. Because we recognize that they mirror reality much more than the fairy tales of magical artifacts: good men die, and evil men triumph and rule. North Korea is a current example of a regime where pure evil is what controls. And there are many, and have been many. I wonder how many good regimes have existed in proportion to bad ones? The United States has its problems, but for the most parts citizens are allowed to live their lives without fear of execution. In terms of human history, I suspect that this is a relatively new phenomenon, and that the number of evil regimes far, far outweighs the number of good.
The gifts in this chapter are not quite as fun as some of the ones in Brothers Grimm. Notably Frodo gets a vial of light that will serve him later against the giant spider. Sam gets a bit of earth (and rope). Merry and Pippin get belts, as does Boromir. Aragon gets a sheath. Most surprisingly, the wafer bread they get proves to be the most valuable, as Frodo and Sam would not have survived Mordor without it.
Gimli asks for a piece of hair, which draws out his character nicely. So for Gimli (hair) and Sam (earth for gardening and rope), the gift giving serves the dual role of giving a boon and developing character. What's interesting is that the "character-development" gifts serve no purpose as to the adventure. So this is a different take than the utility of the gifts in Grimm, where a gift given will undoubtedly serve a useful purpose later on in the story, helping the hero triumph. Rather, these gifts are keepsakes for after the war, and allow for the forging of new friendships (dwarves and elves) and keeping a piece of Lorien in the Shire.
The belts, of course, are of no utility in the adventure (unless the belts allow them to be recognized as "elf-friend," which I do not remember if they do), and no utility in character development. The belts rather are just gifts that allow for the other gifts to be accented. At this point Merry and Pippin and even Boromir are all very flat characters, and so perhaps there is some wisdom in giving them flat gifts as well, so as not to distract from the gifts of significance. I dunno.
Gifts are also a part of the Campbellian cycle. Frodo has been given the vial that will allow him and Sam to defeat the spider. So despite the interesting twist that some gifts will be useful after victory has been achieved, the gift-giving still somewhat falls in line with classical storytelling methods.
We like this archetype because the stories illustrate the principle that the good man will acquire the artifact that will allow good to triumph over evil. We like this archetype because so often in real life evil very often triumphs over good. This is why stories like Game of Thrones upset us so much. Because we recognize that they mirror reality much more than the fairy tales of magical artifacts: good men die, and evil men triumph and rule. North Korea is a current example of a regime where pure evil is what controls. And there are many, and have been many. I wonder how many good regimes have existed in proportion to bad ones? The United States has its problems, but for the most parts citizens are allowed to live their lives without fear of execution. In terms of human history, I suspect that this is a relatively new phenomenon, and that the number of evil regimes far, far outweighs the number of good.
The gifts in this chapter are not quite as fun as some of the ones in Brothers Grimm. Notably Frodo gets a vial of light that will serve him later against the giant spider. Sam gets a bit of earth (and rope). Merry and Pippin get belts, as does Boromir. Aragon gets a sheath. Most surprisingly, the wafer bread they get proves to be the most valuable, as Frodo and Sam would not have survived Mordor without it.
Gimli asks for a piece of hair, which draws out his character nicely. So for Gimli (hair) and Sam (earth for gardening and rope), the gift giving serves the dual role of giving a boon and developing character. What's interesting is that the "character-development" gifts serve no purpose as to the adventure. So this is a different take than the utility of the gifts in Grimm, where a gift given will undoubtedly serve a useful purpose later on in the story, helping the hero triumph. Rather, these gifts are keepsakes for after the war, and allow for the forging of new friendships (dwarves and elves) and keeping a piece of Lorien in the Shire.
The belts, of course, are of no utility in the adventure (unless the belts allow them to be recognized as "elf-friend," which I do not remember if they do), and no utility in character development. The belts rather are just gifts that allow for the other gifts to be accented. At this point Merry and Pippin and even Boromir are all very flat characters, and so perhaps there is some wisdom in giving them flat gifts as well, so as not to distract from the gifts of significance. I dunno.
Gifts are also a part of the Campbellian cycle. Frodo has been given the vial that will allow him and Sam to defeat the spider. So despite the interesting twist that some gifts will be useful after victory has been achieved, the gift-giving still somewhat falls in line with classical storytelling methods.
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