The chapter transitions from Gandalf/Pippin to Merry/Theoden/Strider/Legolas/Gimli/Eowyn. Merry, like Pippin, offers his sword to Theoden. (That's called literary symmetry.) Meanwhile, these guys called Rangers randomly show up. Now, Aragon (Strider) keeps acting a little fishy and goes off with the Rangers, and the Rangers have a fishy looking furled staff with a banner, but hey, that's ok.
Theoden and Merry go off, and at this point I'm drifting, but suddenly, lo! Strider finally gives some answers about why he's been so skulky -- he looked into the palantir!! My eyelids immediately stop drooping and I read on, eager to learn about the confrontation between Strider and Sauron. This part's a little bit interesting, but soon after it turns out Theoden left Eowyn behind, and she begs Aragon to take her with him to face the lands of the dead. Aragon refuses. Then, Aragon/Gimli/Legolas enter the lands of the dead to fulfill some promise that is described for the very first time that the story progresses. Ok. Tolkien is kind of winging it right now, but that's ok.
The lands of the dead prove less than scary. Aragon and Co. see some shadows, and blow a horn, and announce that everyone needs to come along. The dead seem to be ok with that, and follow they do.
Analysis:
Yeah, this chapter was kind of a snooze. Didn't help that I was tired when I read it, but I literally was drifting until Aragon reveals he had just had a confrontation with Sauron. But that short bit of interesting writing was short lived.
Again, like the last chapter, this chapter suffers from a lack of external conflict and a basic plot goal. At least the banner was unfurled in the lands of the dead. Phew! Excellent foreshadowing on Tolkien's part! -- note that the banner was foreshadowed earlier by the Ranger carrying it.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
"The Siege of Gondor" - Jacob's Thoughts
Let's just get this out of the way: Denethor is the worst. He is sending his last living son--the one he had earlier sent into a hopeless battle with nary a kind word, no less--to the funeral pyre without even checking his vitals. He is abandoning his city to its doom, letting others take all the hits while he gives himself over solely to his own despair. Rarely has grief been more selfish.
And yet, and yet.
I find I can't really join in the choruses of condemnation against Denethor, for his failings are ours, too. For he is behaving so erratically because he has lost all hope, and he has lost all hope because his first son was killed, the Enemy is at the gates, any possible allies are few and distant, and he learns that the wizard who's supposed to be helping him has let their one chance, their one boon--the One Ring--wander right into the enemy's grasp with some hapless halfling.
Frankly, Denethor's objections to Gandalf make a sad sort of sense: why on earth did he send the Ring away with Frodo? Wasn't that just the most insane, idiotic plan ever?! Yes, with the benefit of hindsight, it will turn out to have been the best strategy all along, the winning move; but when you have only a 1% chance of destroying the Dark Lord once and for all but a 99% of ruining everything--especially compared to having only, say, a 10% chance of only temporarily defeating Mordor, but a 90% chance of at least keeping the Ring out of Sauron's grasp (even if it still eats at your own soul)--well, by that arithmetic, Denethor's initial plan for the Ring appears far more sensible than Gandalf's. And when Gandalf himself confesses to Pippin that there was only ever a dim hope to begin with, it would appear to justify Denethor's assessment of the situation.
This is not to defend Denethor, nor excuse him, but just to at least get where he's coming from.
Denethor likewise fascinates me because he is such a compelling portrait of a man given over to complete despair. The way he releases Pippin from his service with a "go die in the manner you see fit," the way he openly wails at how the lines of Kings and Stewards are at an end, all this indicates a man who has truly abandoned all hope. For all his arrogant macho posturing (e.g. dropping his cloak to reveal the armor he wears night and day and so forth), the man collapses like an accordion at the signal moment. Like his eldest Boromir, his fate is so tragic precisely because his could so easily be ours.
In a sense, he is the mirror-image to Theoden, a man who shakes off his doldrums to rise to the challenge when he's needed most; Denethor by contrast prepares all his life for battle, only to sink into despair when the enemy comes. Something feels...realistic about this pairing. I have to think that Tolkien, in the trenches of the Great War, saw some of both: men of cynicism and hopelessness who reveal a forgotten courage when called upon, and arrogant men of strength and will who wilt like flowers in the face of danger.
And here's the thing: you don't know which one you're going to be until the trial moment, either! Theoden is who we hope we will be, but Denethor is in the cards, too. You also don't know whom your friends and allies will be, either, and you're going to have to deal with both responses in a fire-fight. Let us not judge Denethor till we are faced with the same challenge, too.
I don't want to finish without noting this chapter's excellent ending: Gandalf personally faces the Nazgûl at the gates of Gondor, "under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed," commanding the demon back to the abyss as only a man who has personally slain a Balrog can do--and the insolent Nazgûl in turn uncloaking his invisible head, like we haven't seen a Dark Rider do since they had Frodo cornered in "Flight to the Ford," and for the same reason: to exult in the totality of his triumph.
And with the same effect: right when the Nazgûl thinks he's won, lo and behold, a light breaks, pierces the darkness, and horses ride to the rescue--"Rohan had come at last."
And yet, and yet.
I find I can't really join in the choruses of condemnation against Denethor, for his failings are ours, too. For he is behaving so erratically because he has lost all hope, and he has lost all hope because his first son was killed, the Enemy is at the gates, any possible allies are few and distant, and he learns that the wizard who's supposed to be helping him has let their one chance, their one boon--the One Ring--wander right into the enemy's grasp with some hapless halfling.
Frankly, Denethor's objections to Gandalf make a sad sort of sense: why on earth did he send the Ring away with Frodo? Wasn't that just the most insane, idiotic plan ever?! Yes, with the benefit of hindsight, it will turn out to have been the best strategy all along, the winning move; but when you have only a 1% chance of destroying the Dark Lord once and for all but a 99% of ruining everything--especially compared to having only, say, a 10% chance of only temporarily defeating Mordor, but a 90% chance of at least keeping the Ring out of Sauron's grasp (even if it still eats at your own soul)--well, by that arithmetic, Denethor's initial plan for the Ring appears far more sensible than Gandalf's. And when Gandalf himself confesses to Pippin that there was only ever a dim hope to begin with, it would appear to justify Denethor's assessment of the situation.
This is not to defend Denethor, nor excuse him, but just to at least get where he's coming from.
Denethor likewise fascinates me because he is such a compelling portrait of a man given over to complete despair. The way he releases Pippin from his service with a "go die in the manner you see fit," the way he openly wails at how the lines of Kings and Stewards are at an end, all this indicates a man who has truly abandoned all hope. For all his arrogant macho posturing (e.g. dropping his cloak to reveal the armor he wears night and day and so forth), the man collapses like an accordion at the signal moment. Like his eldest Boromir, his fate is so tragic precisely because his could so easily be ours.
In a sense, he is the mirror-image to Theoden, a man who shakes off his doldrums to rise to the challenge when he's needed most; Denethor by contrast prepares all his life for battle, only to sink into despair when the enemy comes. Something feels...realistic about this pairing. I have to think that Tolkien, in the trenches of the Great War, saw some of both: men of cynicism and hopelessness who reveal a forgotten courage when called upon, and arrogant men of strength and will who wilt like flowers in the face of danger.
And here's the thing: you don't know which one you're going to be until the trial moment, either! Theoden is who we hope we will be, but Denethor is in the cards, too. You also don't know whom your friends and allies will be, either, and you're going to have to deal with both responses in a fire-fight. Let us not judge Denethor till we are faced with the same challenge, too.
I don't want to finish without noting this chapter's excellent ending: Gandalf personally faces the Nazgûl at the gates of Gondor, "under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed," commanding the demon back to the abyss as only a man who has personally slain a Balrog can do--and the insolent Nazgûl in turn uncloaking his invisible head, like we haven't seen a Dark Rider do since they had Frodo cornered in "Flight to the Ford," and for the same reason: to exult in the totality of his triumph.
And with the same effect: right when the Nazgûl thinks he's won, lo and behold, a light breaks, pierces the darkness, and horses ride to the rescue--"Rohan had come at last."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)