The title of this chapter tells you immediately what is going to happen: that Pippin is going to have a second look at the crystal ball. The execution does not disappoint. For a couple of pages Pippin wonders aloud what's in the crystal ball, and Merry tells him to mind his own business. It's the stuff of wizards, he says, so you best forget about it. Pippin tosses and turns, and can't forget about it.
Instead, he tip-toes over to Gandalf and puts a palantir-sized rock in Gandalf's hands while Gandalf snores. This is a scene that we have all read before a million times, but we love it each time. It reminds us when we would sneak cookies from on top of the fridge. (Yes, I am guilty of this too.)
The crystal ball is revealed to be a telephone by which Saruman had been speed-dial chatting with Sauron. Gandalf also speculates that this was the fall of Saruman.
I guess Saruman should have chosen his speed-dial more carefully. Perhaps Tolkien's message here is that we should choose our friends more carefully. The people we talk to have the biggest influence on us. Saruman shouldn't have kept talking with Sauron. Perhaps if he had just said, "you know, Sauron, I really like you, and all, but I just can't hang out with you anymore. You don't support my values," then this never would have happened.
The problem is, that once Saruman had beheld evil, he could not turn away. The images and despair of inevitable defeat drove him to conclude, logically, that to join with Sauron's juggernaut was the only viable option. In a Citizens United world, these themes are still applicable today.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Sunday, August 30, 2015
"The Palantír" - Jacob's Thoughts
So ends Book III! And what a way to end--the battle has been won only for us to be reminded that the war is far from over. As Gandalf frames it: "So we fly--not from danger but into greater danger." Expertly handled, Tolkien: I've waited so impatiently to at last return to the adventures of Master Frodo and Samwise Gamgee, only for me to be left hungry to find out what happens next to Peregrin Took, of all people!
That cliffhanger is especially expert because the first part of this chapter initially felt like a dull return to the plodding wordiness of "Road to Isengard" and "Flotsam and Jetsam"--I began to fear that from here on out, chapters like "The Voice of Saruman" would be exception, not the rule. But then the eye of Sauron appears, the Nazgul desecrate the sky, and the war-party's leisurely trot across the plains suddenly becomes a mad dash through the night. Tolkien knows how to move when he feels like it!
As for the vision in the titular palantír: Sauron's gloating laugh over poor Pippin was of special interest to me, particularly given my discussion of Gandalf's cutting laugh against Saruman in the previous chapter. There is nothing that Sauron cannot turn to evil use, and laughter is one of them; and whereas Gandalf uses it to punch up and puncture the powerful, Sauron uses it to punch down and oppress the weak. It is the difference between the humor of the generous verses the humor of the cruel; indeed, whenever I read of some politician or comedian complaining about how "political correctness" is hampering humor, I've realized what they're actually complaining about is how they can no longer get away with being as big of pricks as they'd like to be--and the fact that they can't imagine comedy without cruelty speaks volumes about their own crooked character. That is, I bet Sauron ain't big on "political correctness" either. What a fascinating compare and contrast.
Also of interest: we finally get a brief discussion in how exactly Gandalf the White differs from Gandalf the Grey. It's not much, but Merry's "He can be both kinder and more alarming, merrier and more solemn than before" still seems to communicate something profound. The description reminds me of what Maslow wrote of the "self-actualized" in Motivation and Personality--how they can be both more light-hearted yet also somber, both more generous yet also more ruthless in ending friendships they perceive as corrupted, are quick and accurate judges of character, and are as comfortable leading as they are submiting (which we see with Gandalf's bow to Aragorn). All these feel like apt descriptions of Gandalf the White--if not Gandalf the Gray.
For I vaguely recall us discussing clear back in Book I how Gandalf the Grey is frankly a bit of dick. But here, whereas early Gandalf would have rapped Pippin's ears for letting himself get seduced by the palantír, now Gandalf's "face grew gentler, and the shadow of a smile appeared. He laid his hand softly on Pippin's head." That is, Gandalf has become self-actualized in Maslow's model--though boy has he ever earned it! But then, it's not an actualization that ever comes cheap; indeed, it has been my experience generally that the most genuine, kind, and generous people I have ever met are the ones who have passed through the most searing pain, who have seen the most. It is petty small-mindedness that makes us cruel (as shown by Sauron's obsession with that tiny ring); it is a broad-mindedness born of soul-expanding tragedy that makes us generous.
We are now half way to the end. I stop here waiting for you. Until Book IV, gentlemen.
That cliffhanger is especially expert because the first part of this chapter initially felt like a dull return to the plodding wordiness of "Road to Isengard" and "Flotsam and Jetsam"--I began to fear that from here on out, chapters like "The Voice of Saruman" would be exception, not the rule. But then the eye of Sauron appears, the Nazgul desecrate the sky, and the war-party's leisurely trot across the plains suddenly becomes a mad dash through the night. Tolkien knows how to move when he feels like it!
As for the vision in the titular palantír: Sauron's gloating laugh over poor Pippin was of special interest to me, particularly given my discussion of Gandalf's cutting laugh against Saruman in the previous chapter. There is nothing that Sauron cannot turn to evil use, and laughter is one of them; and whereas Gandalf uses it to punch up and puncture the powerful, Sauron uses it to punch down and oppress the weak. It is the difference between the humor of the generous verses the humor of the cruel; indeed, whenever I read of some politician or comedian complaining about how "political correctness" is hampering humor, I've realized what they're actually complaining about is how they can no longer get away with being as big of pricks as they'd like to be--and the fact that they can't imagine comedy without cruelty speaks volumes about their own crooked character. That is, I bet Sauron ain't big on "political correctness" either. What a fascinating compare and contrast.
Also of interest: we finally get a brief discussion in how exactly Gandalf the White differs from Gandalf the Grey. It's not much, but Merry's "He can be both kinder and more alarming, merrier and more solemn than before" still seems to communicate something profound. The description reminds me of what Maslow wrote of the "self-actualized" in Motivation and Personality--how they can be both more light-hearted yet also somber, both more generous yet also more ruthless in ending friendships they perceive as corrupted, are quick and accurate judges of character, and are as comfortable leading as they are submiting (which we see with Gandalf's bow to Aragorn). All these feel like apt descriptions of Gandalf the White--if not Gandalf the Gray.
For I vaguely recall us discussing clear back in Book I how Gandalf the Grey is frankly a bit of dick. But here, whereas early Gandalf would have rapped Pippin's ears for letting himself get seduced by the palantír, now Gandalf's "face grew gentler, and the shadow of a smile appeared. He laid his hand softly on Pippin's head." That is, Gandalf has become self-actualized in Maslow's model--though boy has he ever earned it! But then, it's not an actualization that ever comes cheap; indeed, it has been my experience generally that the most genuine, kind, and generous people I have ever met are the ones who have passed through the most searing pain, who have seen the most. It is petty small-mindedness that makes us cruel (as shown by Sauron's obsession with that tiny ring); it is a broad-mindedness born of soul-expanding tragedy that makes us generous.
We are now half way to the end. I stop here waiting for you. Until Book IV, gentlemen.
Saturday, August 22, 2015
"The Voice of Saruman" - Jacob's Thoughts
"Then Gandalf laughed. The fantasy vanished like a puff of smoke.""Humorous" is certainly not the adjective anyone would use to describe LoTR (especially when compared to The Hobbit), but it is reassuring to see that Tolkien has not forgotten the subversive power of a good laugh.
Because that's what breaks the spell, isn't it--a good strong belly laugh, one that shakes everyone awake, utterly deflates Saruman's pretensions, puts him in his place and sets Gandalf the White as the new head of the Counsel. I've heard it argued before that humor can actually be inherently cruel, even tyrannical, for by its very nature it must exclude and ostracize those who don't get the joke, and functions primarily by cutting others down to size. And indeed, if one is a bully who punches down, then yes, humor can be a vicious (not to mention petty) tool of the oppressor indeed.
But against the vicious, the cruel, the bullying and the tyrannical themselves, humor can be an effective weapon of liberation, and Gandalf seems to intuit this. In contrast to the two previous meandering chapters, Tolkien here does a masterful job of describing succinctly, through both show and tell, just how smooth a talker Saruman can be, how honeyed sweet his words are, how easy he is to like, how simple, natural, rationale it must feel to believe him. It's clear now that Grimace Wormtongue was but the apprentice to the master--in another life, Saruman could have been the world's greatest salesman.
I know the type well; real-life salesmen use the exact same tactics. I'd wondered aloud in previous chapters if Sauron had once been able to sell the major races of Middle Earth on his Rings of Power precisely because he did not then appear as the living embodiment of evil, but because he was such a smooth-talking salesman, a handsome young gent appearing as an angel of light, with a sharp suit and a winning smile who threw his arm around your shoulders and assured you he was your best friend, and boy did he have a deal for you! But I guess I don't need to see ages-old Sauron in action anymore, because I have now seen the exact same tactics on display with Saruman, who has learned from the Dark Lord well.
And Saruman even here follows the exact same trajectory as Sauron--for once the sales-pitch either finishes or fails, then the whole smiley facade drops, and the real malice that undergirded the sales-pitch comes swiftly simmering to the surface. If the sale succeeded, then they have you lashed under an impossible contract filled with hidden fees that they will exact to their fullest; and if the sale failed, then they lash out petulantly and hypocritically, as though you were the one who tried to rob them.
The first scenario Sauron has fulfilled to a T, and the latter Saruman has followed to the letter. Sauron is still too dangerous to laugh at just yet, but Saruman has elicited from Gandalf the White the only response he deserves--he has laughed at him. For what poor, fallen Saruman has sought above all else is power, authority, control, to be respected and taken seriously--and nothing signifies that no one takes you seriously anymore than to be laughed at. I suspect that with that guffaw, Gandalf cut an even deeper wound into Saruman than all the destructive fury of Ents--and that Gandalf emasculated him even more fully than when he commanded his staff to snap in two. It is one of the most satisfying laughs in literature.
Eric's right, this chapter is wonderful! It's right up there with "A Knife in the Dark" and "The Bridge of Khazad-dûm" as one of the highlights of the entire series--and the wonder of it is there is scarcely any action at all (aside from the apparent off-screen murder of Grima by Saruman), just a war of words with greater tension and sense of stakes than the entire Battle of Helm's Deep. I've noticed that as we've progressed, we have all begrudgingly sided more and more with Peter Jackson's artistic choices over Tolkien's, but this scene is not one of them--whereas in the film Saruman is just a generic baddie and the final confrontation is a forgettable cut-scene, here on the pages it is a masterful battle between two former friends for whom the tables have turned totally. Gandalf the White doesn't even use magic to defeat Saruman this time--he doesn't have to anymore.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
"The Voice of Saruman" - Eric's Thoughts
So. Here we are at what I remember to be one of my favorite chapters of the whole series. Everyone else seems psyched about Saruman's cameo just like I do. The question is -- does it live up to the hype???
Fortunately -- it does! Hooray! A true engaging chapter. I remember many times while being bored at church I would jump to and read this chapter. Something about it is really fun.
The plot is simple: the characters approach Saruman, who is holed up in Orthanc. The purpose of the meeting seems completely unclear and pointless. If he's that dangerous, why even bother talking to him? Gandalf reveals near the end was that the purpose was to give Saruman a chance of redemption, even though Gandalf knows that Saruman will reject it.
Besides the obvious -- that showing mercy is distinguishing factor of good from evil -- the point of this chapter really is to have a marvelous confrontation. A chapter like this shows that the most engaging parts of a story are not when fights occur, but when characters confront one another and really try to **** each other through dialogue.
Not dialogue that says "We meet again, Mr. Bond. You'll never escape this time. I think a nice . . . shark tank is what's in order here." But dialogue where the characters are trying to influence each other, and there's a decision where the influence could lead to a pivotal choice. This is what creates the most memorable moments in fiction.
Thus, a simple plot. But the confrontation is complex. Many paragraphs are spent describing the power of the voice. What Saruman says itself is not particularly convincing. But Tolkien spends so much time describing the voice, and its power, that the reader can visually see these puny mortals falling under its spell. It's an enchanting effect, both to the characters in the story, and the reader.
I found myself almost WANTING Saruman to prevail. And when he was beaten, it was a most unpleasant sensation. I too, had fallen under Saruman's spell.
Fortunately -- it does! Hooray! A true engaging chapter. I remember many times while being bored at church I would jump to and read this chapter. Something about it is really fun.
The plot is simple: the characters approach Saruman, who is holed up in Orthanc. The purpose of the meeting seems completely unclear and pointless. If he's that dangerous, why even bother talking to him? Gandalf reveals near the end was that the purpose was to give Saruman a chance of redemption, even though Gandalf knows that Saruman will reject it.
Besides the obvious -- that showing mercy is distinguishing factor of good from evil -- the point of this chapter really is to have a marvelous confrontation. A chapter like this shows that the most engaging parts of a story are not when fights occur, but when characters confront one another and really try to **** each other through dialogue.
Not dialogue that says "We meet again, Mr. Bond. You'll never escape this time. I think a nice . . . shark tank is what's in order here." But dialogue where the characters are trying to influence each other, and there's a decision where the influence could lead to a pivotal choice. This is what creates the most memorable moments in fiction.
Thus, a simple plot. But the confrontation is complex. Many paragraphs are spent describing the power of the voice. What Saruman says itself is not particularly convincing. But Tolkien spends so much time describing the voice, and its power, that the reader can visually see these puny mortals falling under its spell. It's an enchanting effect, both to the characters in the story, and the reader.
I found myself almost WANTING Saruman to prevail. And when he was beaten, it was a most unpleasant sensation. I too, had fallen under Saruman's spell.
"Flotsam and Jetsam" - Ben's Thoughts
I have a lot less to say about this chapter than the last one. It's certainly deflating to hear about the assault on Isengard after the fact; the outcome is predetermined, so the reader is robbed of any sort of tension. We even know that Quickbeam, the only other Ent we have had any kind of connection with from the text, is going to be all right when he goes chasing after Saruman, because the party saw him alive and well in the last chapter guarding the doors of Orthanc.
So I do have to question Tolkien's choice in giving this afterthought of an explanation to the hobbits' simplified rendition. Wouldn't it have been better to see the thing in person? The question, I suppose, is whether a direct depiction of the assault is more important than the buildup to the big reveal that Gandalf & Co. don't have to attack the place themselves; it's already been done for them. I'd argue that a direct depiction would have been much more useful than this awkward recounting. The astute reader can already guess that Isengard has been taken care of: Gandalf's complete nonchalance about the whole matter, as well as the fact that the Ents and Hurons are obviously hanging about the area kind of gives up the game well before we see the torn-down doors and flooded interior.
So here's how I would have divided these chapters: I would have lumped the clean-up at Helm's Deep at the end of "Helm's Deep" itself, and then I would have had a new chapter (perhaps entitled "Rock and Stone," after Treebeard's statement about his "business" with Isengard) recounting the assault and the aftermath, ending with Treebeard talking to the hobbits about the king and Gandalf's impending arrival. Then a third chapter could have brought the company down the road to Isengard and taken them all the way to the doors of Orthanc, ready for their confrontation with Saruman that's about to take place in the next chapter. Part of me is suspicious that Tolkien had it like this at one point, what with all of the verbatim dialogue that Merry and Pippin spout out to Aragorn and friends when they're lounging about; for the life of me I can't see how the way it was done was better. Two back-to-back exciting battle chapters, each very different in format, setting, and characters than the other, seems to be better than having two completely-blase chapters like these.
The most interesting thing about this chapter is the continuation of the ominous foreshadowing about "things" going badly in the Shire in the hobbits' absence. "Scouring of the Shire" is the highlight of the end of the series for me, and it's nice to see some seeds planted slowly along the way.
So I do have to question Tolkien's choice in giving this afterthought of an explanation to the hobbits' simplified rendition. Wouldn't it have been better to see the thing in person? The question, I suppose, is whether a direct depiction of the assault is more important than the buildup to the big reveal that Gandalf & Co. don't have to attack the place themselves; it's already been done for them. I'd argue that a direct depiction would have been much more useful than this awkward recounting. The astute reader can already guess that Isengard has been taken care of: Gandalf's complete nonchalance about the whole matter, as well as the fact that the Ents and Hurons are obviously hanging about the area kind of gives up the game well before we see the torn-down doors and flooded interior.
So here's how I would have divided these chapters: I would have lumped the clean-up at Helm's Deep at the end of "Helm's Deep" itself, and then I would have had a new chapter (perhaps entitled "Rock and Stone," after Treebeard's statement about his "business" with Isengard) recounting the assault and the aftermath, ending with Treebeard talking to the hobbits about the king and Gandalf's impending arrival. Then a third chapter could have brought the company down the road to Isengard and taken them all the way to the doors of Orthanc, ready for their confrontation with Saruman that's about to take place in the next chapter. Part of me is suspicious that Tolkien had it like this at one point, what with all of the verbatim dialogue that Merry and Pippin spout out to Aragorn and friends when they're lounging about; for the life of me I can't see how the way it was done was better. Two back-to-back exciting battle chapters, each very different in format, setting, and characters than the other, seems to be better than having two completely-blase chapters like these.
The most interesting thing about this chapter is the continuation of the ominous foreshadowing about "things" going badly in the Shire in the hobbits' absence. "Scouring of the Shire" is the highlight of the end of the series for me, and it's nice to see some seeds planted slowly along the way.
"The Road to Isengard" - Ben's Thoughts
These two chapters, as Jacob guessed, are another part of the reason why I find Book 3 so tedious and disappointing. While "Helm's Deep" is far from a perfect chapter, it does provide forward-moving action as well as serving as its own self-contained narrative. But "Road to Isengard" is just a bridge chapter, taking our characters from one place to another. While the chapter does have some merit when viewed in isolation, it really doesn't contribute anything to the narrative as a whole and could easily have been condensed into "Flotsam and Jetsam" for a more consice, streamlined approach. I think Jacob has nailed it here: Tolkien should make you a little nervous, because this word count bloat will recur to haunt us in later books, particularly in both books of "Return of the King."
That's the bad; now on to the merit. Eric and Jacob both point out that the company's first impression of the hobbits and their subsequent interactions is ridiculously charming. The hobbits are never more endearing and worthwhile than when outsiders consider them with awe and respect. Tolkien invokes this theme often and effectively in the earlier books, and will employ it to schmaltzy effect after the Ring is destroyed (singers spontaneously compose and perform songs about the hobbits' valor!) but the effect does feel particularly well-earned in this chapter, to some degree. Tolkien does a respectable job of building up the imposing nature of Isengard, coupled with Gandalf's tongue-in-cheek efforts to keep the company in the dark about what happened the night before ("Gandalf, we see great smokes and fumes! Are we riding to our deaths???" "Maaaaaybe....") Thus the moment when the reader is expected to be presented with Isengard in all of its sound and fury is completely bowled over by the revelation that "the doors lay hurled and twisted on the ground" and the whole of Isengard stands in ruins. And to find the hobbits here, smoking and eating, is icing on the cake.
Finally, Tolkien manages to slip in another reminder that The Lord of the Rings is a book about endings, not beginnings (leaving the last line of the trilogy aside for a minute). Theoden, upon seeing what may be the most marvelous sight of his life -- the Ents shepherding the trees outside of Helm's Deep -- comments that "also I should be sad . . . For however the fortune of war shall go, may it not so end that much that was fair and wonderful shall pass for ever out of Middle-earth." Gandalf, always the kill-joy, responds: "It may . . . The evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured, nor made as if it had not been." While victory may come -- and this easy triumph over Saruman's forces always led me to consider the ultimate inevitability of Sauron's defeat as well (easy at least when considering the driving thrust of Tolkien's narrative) -- it doesn't come without a heavy price, in lives and damage to men's (and hobbit's) souls. Theoden manages to come across here as a poignantly bitter-sweet character; one who relishes the victory over a ferocious enemy, but at the same time embodying an old man whose life has extended beyond the precious lives of so many fallen in battle, including that of his own son. In my line of work I come across on a regular basis tragic, wasteful death, as well as individuals who have so thoroughly squandered their time and talents as to render themselves incapable of making meaningful choices that the rest of us consider intrinsic to our human experience, so to some degree I can relate. Tolkien certainly saw this during and after the war. Now that I think about it, Tolkien probably related to Theoden a great deal.
That's the bad; now on to the merit. Eric and Jacob both point out that the company's first impression of the hobbits and their subsequent interactions is ridiculously charming. The hobbits are never more endearing and worthwhile than when outsiders consider them with awe and respect. Tolkien invokes this theme often and effectively in the earlier books, and will employ it to schmaltzy effect after the Ring is destroyed (singers spontaneously compose and perform songs about the hobbits' valor!) but the effect does feel particularly well-earned in this chapter, to some degree. Tolkien does a respectable job of building up the imposing nature of Isengard, coupled with Gandalf's tongue-in-cheek efforts to keep the company in the dark about what happened the night before ("Gandalf, we see great smokes and fumes! Are we riding to our deaths???" "Maaaaaybe....") Thus the moment when the reader is expected to be presented with Isengard in all of its sound and fury is completely bowled over by the revelation that "the doors lay hurled and twisted on the ground" and the whole of Isengard stands in ruins. And to find the hobbits here, smoking and eating, is icing on the cake.
Finally, Tolkien manages to slip in another reminder that The Lord of the Rings is a book about endings, not beginnings (leaving the last line of the trilogy aside for a minute). Theoden, upon seeing what may be the most marvelous sight of his life -- the Ents shepherding the trees outside of Helm's Deep -- comments that "also I should be sad . . . For however the fortune of war shall go, may it not so end that much that was fair and wonderful shall pass for ever out of Middle-earth." Gandalf, always the kill-joy, responds: "It may . . . The evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured, nor made as if it had not been." While victory may come -- and this easy triumph over Saruman's forces always led me to consider the ultimate inevitability of Sauron's defeat as well (easy at least when considering the driving thrust of Tolkien's narrative) -- it doesn't come without a heavy price, in lives and damage to men's (and hobbit's) souls. Theoden manages to come across here as a poignantly bitter-sweet character; one who relishes the victory over a ferocious enemy, but at the same time embodying an old man whose life has extended beyond the precious lives of so many fallen in battle, including that of his own son. In my line of work I come across on a regular basis tragic, wasteful death, as well as individuals who have so thoroughly squandered their time and talents as to render themselves incapable of making meaningful choices that the rest of us consider intrinsic to our human experience, so to some degree I can relate. Tolkien certainly saw this during and after the war. Now that I think about it, Tolkien probably related to Theoden a great deal.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
"Flotsam and Jetsam" - Eric's Thoughts
I didn't mind this chapter. Anything that involves smoking and contemplating is far more engaging than the endless fields of the last chapter.
What I liked about this chapter was that it felt like actual characters were beginning to engage with each other. Sometimes it's hard to do that when they're just running on horses together. The hobbits describe the battle of isengard, which was done well. Tolkien shows the ruin, then describes how it happens. The details don't give a blow by blow account, but hit a few highlights. Especially fun is the cameo by Wormtongue in this chapter, and how Treebeard was aware of Wormtongue's game because of Gandalf. (Remember, Wormtongue is the most interesting character so far in the series!)
I agree with Jacob that this chapter should have been combined with the last.
What I liked about this chapter was that it felt like actual characters were beginning to engage with each other. Sometimes it's hard to do that when they're just running on horses together. The hobbits describe the battle of isengard, which was done well. Tolkien shows the ruin, then describes how it happens. The details don't give a blow by blow account, but hit a few highlights. Especially fun is the cameo by Wormtongue in this chapter, and how Treebeard was aware of Wormtongue's game because of Gandalf. (Remember, Wormtongue is the most interesting character so far in the series!)
I agree with Jacob that this chapter should have been combined with the last.
Monday, August 10, 2015
"The Road to Isengard" - Eric's Thoughts
The Road to Isengard feels like an unnecessary chapter on many different levels. It begins with the entertaining resolution to Gimli and Legolas's subplot -- Gimli's 42 kills over Legolas's 41.
After that, it goes downhill as Theoden, Gandalf, and other supporting characters decide to pay Saruman a visit. That's all that literally happens in this chapter -- a journey to Isengard.
The terrain is described in great detail in this chapter. While I was reading this chapter, I was thinking about Orson Scott Card's theory that there are four different types of stories. In that article, Orson Scott Card argues there are milieu stories, idea stories, character stories, and event stories. Card argues that Lord of the Rings is an event story. While I think his model oversimplifies -- many stories include elements of all four, playing along I think Card is wrong. Perhaps Lord of the Rings is more of a milieu story than event story. Tolkien seems to focus heavily on having characters explore the world. At the very least, this chapter is a milieu chapter.
Not everything is bad. I perked up when Theoden and friends finally arrived at Isengard. Reading the description of Isengard was interesting. Reading about its ruin was fascinating. The reader had already known that the Tree Ents had marched to war, and this was the result. This is one things that Tolkien did well -- I think showing the devastation of the Ents was far more compelling than having a line by line account of Tree Ents crushing orcs.
Of course, I remember that the chapter where Saruman is introduced is one of the best of the series. Tolkien certainly takes his sweet time in building up to it.
After that, it goes downhill as Theoden, Gandalf, and other supporting characters decide to pay Saruman a visit. That's all that literally happens in this chapter -- a journey to Isengard.
The terrain is described in great detail in this chapter. While I was reading this chapter, I was thinking about Orson Scott Card's theory that there are four different types of stories. In that article, Orson Scott Card argues there are milieu stories, idea stories, character stories, and event stories. Card argues that Lord of the Rings is an event story. While I think his model oversimplifies -- many stories include elements of all four, playing along I think Card is wrong. Perhaps Lord of the Rings is more of a milieu story than event story. Tolkien seems to focus heavily on having characters explore the world. At the very least, this chapter is a milieu chapter.
Not everything is bad. I perked up when Theoden and friends finally arrived at Isengard. Reading the description of Isengard was interesting. Reading about its ruin was fascinating. The reader had already known that the Tree Ents had marched to war, and this was the result. This is one things that Tolkien did well -- I think showing the devastation of the Ents was far more compelling than having a line by line account of Tree Ents crushing orcs.
Of course, I remember that the chapter where Saruman is introduced is one of the best of the series. Tolkien certainly takes his sweet time in building up to it.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
"Flotsam and Jetsam" - Jacob's Thoughts
Some of my same concerns from "The Road to Isengard" carry over to this chapter, namely that so much of this, well, "Flotsam and Jetsam" (and Tolkien's choice to so name this material is hardly a rousing endorsement) could have been excised from both chapters and the relevant portions combined into one tighter sequence. For example, the chapter opener, what with the reunited Fellowship shooting the breeze, wondering what's around to eat or smoke, is so aggressively low-stakes that is almost feels like a parody of all the action that came before.
Moreover, hearing these characters recount, yet again, for the umpteenth time, events that we just read about for ourselves a scarce few chapters ago, is not only needlessly redundant, but has a bizarre sort of recursive feel to it (in the next chapter, are they going to recount the time they last recounted what they recounted about? Will they just keep remembering their remembering? What is this, a Borjes story?).
But this chapter does at least partially justify its existence, as we finally get to hear about the Ents' righteous assault on Isengard. I'm still on the fence about the virtue of hearing Merry and Pippin narrate it for us, but I suppose that extra level of mediation is not appreciably different from just hearing Tolkien narrate it directly; and in spite of the laid-back framing device, wherein (unlike "Helm's Deep") we already know from the start how this battle will end, it's still a rousing sequence. It's almost as though Tolkien is preemptively declaring that spoiler alerts are overrated--already knowing the ending by no means ruins the pleasure of getting there. Or at least he so implies.
This chapter also answers my concern as to why Merry and Pippin were so blase about Gandalf's reappearance--they had already re-met him again during the battle of Isengard, although even that reunion feels weirdly off-hand and perfunctory. It would appear that now that Gandalf is back, Tolkien is radically disinterested in continually reemphasizing that fact (even if he lacks any similar restraint against having his characters endlessly repeat to each other what just happened).
Moreover, hearing these characters recount, yet again, for the umpteenth time, events that we just read about for ourselves a scarce few chapters ago, is not only needlessly redundant, but has a bizarre sort of recursive feel to it (in the next chapter, are they going to recount the time they last recounted what they recounted about? Will they just keep remembering their remembering? What is this, a Borjes story?).
But this chapter does at least partially justify its existence, as we finally get to hear about the Ents' righteous assault on Isengard. I'm still on the fence about the virtue of hearing Merry and Pippin narrate it for us, but I suppose that extra level of mediation is not appreciably different from just hearing Tolkien narrate it directly; and in spite of the laid-back framing device, wherein (unlike "Helm's Deep") we already know from the start how this battle will end, it's still a rousing sequence. It's almost as though Tolkien is preemptively declaring that spoiler alerts are overrated--already knowing the ending by no means ruins the pleasure of getting there. Or at least he so implies.
This chapter also answers my concern as to why Merry and Pippin were so blase about Gandalf's reappearance--they had already re-met him again during the battle of Isengard, although even that reunion feels weirdly off-hand and perfunctory. It would appear that now that Gandalf is back, Tolkien is radically disinterested in continually reemphasizing that fact (even if he lacks any similar restraint against having his characters endlessly repeat to each other what just happened).
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