The thing about Tolkien's worldview, the underpinning that guides the plot, history, and characters of The Lord of the Rings, is that there exists a very clear good and a very clear evil.
Yes, yes, a spectrum exists between the two poles. It's not always simplistic to place Tolkien's characters on that spectrum, either; just look at Denethor, who we've discussed at length in the past few chapters, and Gollum, who we addressed in Book IV and we'll talk more about as we move into Book VI. But the point remains -- Tolkien's Middle-earth contains a transcendent good: the justice and truth and legitimacy of Aragorn's claim to the throne, Gandalf's motives, the hobbits' innate goodness; as well as the most base and wretched evil: Sauron and all he represents.
This is at once refreshing and frustrating. It's refreshing because it's so unlike our own world. The main characters of LOTR have a clear and obvious objective to work towards: defeat Sauron. All other goals fall short of that one; Sauron must be stopped or he will destroy everything good and right about Middle-earth. The narrative voice states this is his intention; Gandalf and Elrond and other characters who we have no reason to doubt states this as his intention. (Interestingly, whenever a spokesman of Sauron himself or one of his minions expresses their worldview, they distort that picture considerably; but their actions speak louder than their words in every instance.) On the flip side, it's frustrating because that duality is so unlike our own world. There are very few human beings that I think we can safely label as wholly and irredeemably evil or totally and completely good (certainly the latter). Even with organizations and individuals that I abhor; that stand in fundamental opposition to my own values and choices, I can see their perspective and at least some good in them.
So perhaps this duality is why these apocalyptic chapters of "Return of the King" don't resonate with me as much as they once did. When I was young, the righteous utterances of the heralds thrilled me ("Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!
Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and
wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for
his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"). But now, when I can see so many shades of gray in the world, my reading is soured by the fact that very little in my life will ever be as clear-cut as that.
This issue is stated as one of the draws of so-called "high fantasy," of which Tolkien was a pioneer. As the argument goes, we read such texts in an attempt to escape from the uncertainty that surrounds us on a daily basis. But I'm not so sure that really nails the draw down. I feel like the goodness and purity exhibited in these texts are more ideals to strive for, in Tolkien's mind, than methods of escapism or paragons of unattainability, either one. Circling back around, perhaps that's my suspicion because even some of Tolkien's most bulletproof characters have doubts from time to time, are exhibited as not being unshakable in their worldviews. Interestingly, this chapter is a distorted mirror of "The Voice of Saruman," in that the company is confronted by dangerous half-truths; most of those listening suppose that all hope and, indeed, need for resistance, is futile; and assume that Gandalf will capitulate to the demands of the encroaching representative of evil. Even more startling is the fact that, here, Gandalf himself seems affected by the Mouth of Sauron's words -- when he sees Frodo and Sam's gear in the hands of the Enemy, he is horrified, and must collect himself and his thoughts before returning a stinging rebuke.
This final chapter in Book V is plot-light, but with good reason; it places front and center both the conflict between the opposite poles that I've been discussing, and the frailty of the individuals involved. This is further highlighted by Tolkien inserting the snippet about how some soldiers could not physically or mentally continue onward and had to be given an alternative assignment by Aragorn. No man can or should be forced onto the "best" path -- but, in Tolkien's Middle-earth, a best path clearly exists.
Friday, February 24, 2017
Friday, February 10, 2017
"The Field of Cormallen" - Jacob's Thoughts
I know, I know, I should hold my horses and wait for you two to catch up; but after the dynamite climax of "Mount Doom," I was just giddy with excitement to return to the Front to formally witness the fall of Sauron and defeat of Mordor up close and personal! So was it worth it to barrel ahead like this?
Sure. I guess.
Probably anything and everything was going to feel like a come-down after "Mount Doom"; nevertheless, after all of this struggle and set-backs and existential threats, the end of the War of the Ring can't help but feel rather perfunctory. It just sorta...ends. Frodo and Sam are promptly picked up by Gandalf and the Eagles. Sauron rises as a great shadow and promptly disperses to the winds--as opaque and incomprehensible as he ever was--as does the massive Mordor military alliance. The Orcs do not carry forth under new leadership, or break apart into a series of Rump States or guerilla fighters or roaming militias, they just simply...scatter. (Where to? Tolkien appears as uninterested in saying as he is in discussing Sauron now that he's dead).
There's an off-hand reference to the forces of Man entering into Mordor to destroy some fortresses, but no reports of armed resistance from the denizens therein, nor of mass-surrender, nor of all those countless slaves being liberated. Rarely has such a massive war had such a clean and decisive finale, with so little messy fall-out.
Don't get me wrong, if any set of characters deserved a completely happy ending, it's these folks. But it's almost a little too neat; Frodo's missing finger is the absolute extent of their losses, they even get their clothes and gifts from Galadriel back--and it might as well have been with a bow on top. I know we still have that delightful little detour, "The Scouring of the Shire," to look forward to, but at the moment all I really see coming is the longest denouement ever, and there's not really a whole of lot of dramatic tension therein.
Sure. I guess.
Probably anything and everything was going to feel like a come-down after "Mount Doom"; nevertheless, after all of this struggle and set-backs and existential threats, the end of the War of the Ring can't help but feel rather perfunctory. It just sorta...ends. Frodo and Sam are promptly picked up by Gandalf and the Eagles. Sauron rises as a great shadow and promptly disperses to the winds--as opaque and incomprehensible as he ever was--as does the massive Mordor military alliance. The Orcs do not carry forth under new leadership, or break apart into a series of Rump States or guerilla fighters or roaming militias, they just simply...scatter. (Where to? Tolkien appears as uninterested in saying as he is in discussing Sauron now that he's dead).
There's an off-hand reference to the forces of Man entering into Mordor to destroy some fortresses, but no reports of armed resistance from the denizens therein, nor of mass-surrender, nor of all those countless slaves being liberated. Rarely has such a massive war had such a clean and decisive finale, with so little messy fall-out.
Don't get me wrong, if any set of characters deserved a completely happy ending, it's these folks. But it's almost a little too neat; Frodo's missing finger is the absolute extent of their losses, they even get their clothes and gifts from Galadriel back--and it might as well have been with a bow on top. I know we still have that delightful little detour, "The Scouring of the Shire," to look forward to, but at the moment all I really see coming is the longest denouement ever, and there's not really a whole of lot of dramatic tension therein.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
"Mount Doom" - Jacob's Thoughts
I don't know if I can do this chapter justice.
Even already knowing the end from the beginning, and especially after so many chapters of frankly shaky plotting and poor pacing, the way that Tolkien finally wraps together all of the moving pieces of not only The Lord of the Ring, but his entire Middle Earth mythology, in such a resoundingly satisfying manner--and that without sacrificing the intimacy, humility, and humanity of his central characters--is nothing short of astounding. If, after all of our many searing critiques of Tolkien's many literary shortcomings, there were any question as to why Lord of the Rings remains the most widely beloved fantasy series of the 20th century, the answer must be that readers are willing to forgive a lot in a story if the climax is strong--and boy does Tolkien have a crackerjack climax!
I think what makes this chapter work so memorably is the strength of its contrasts: the meekness and weakness of the Hobbits contrasted against the apocalyptic grandiosity of their mission; the Hobbits' relentless hopelessness in the first half of this chapter contrasted with Sauron's absolute terror in the second; the complete darkness of Mordor (such that Galadriel's light won't even work anymore--an excellent detail) contrasted with the complete victory of the finale.
And then there's Gollum.
We've all read the books before and we've all seen the movies, so at this point Gollum's role in the final destruction of the Ring is so much a part of the cultural air we breath that it may be easy to forget just what a fantastic twist it really is. For the question that permeated near the entirety of Book IV is whether Gollum is good or bad, friend or foe, redeemable or irredeemable, an asset or a liability; back in "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol," I posited that "what is most fascinating is that Tolkien's eventual answer to this question will be--Yes." Now here at Mount Doom, I find that the answer is also, simultaneously, "No." Gollum never finds redemption, never gets better, never wins release, his story ends as bitter and tragic as it began--but his selfishness and monomania is also what saves the world in the end! Even more of a Christ-analogue than Strider, Gollum suffers immeasurably so that the rest of us might be redeemed--he is the Judas who ensures the Atonement who is also still Jesus. It is an enormously complex ending to that particular character arc, one that complicates any easy good-vs-evil narrative in wonderful ways!
What I also noticed this time round is how those same fraught questions of good and evil apply to Frodo and Sam as well! Frodo finally succumbs to the seductive power of the Ring in the fatal moment--he fails guys, he fails!--but that same seductive power is also what finally gets Gollum to inadvertantly destroy it, too; what was wicked in both Frodo and Gollum is also what saves Middle Earth--it is the Ring that finally trips over its own feet in the end.
Likewise Sam, who had held the Ring the briefest of them all, fails to kill treacherous Gollum when he finally has the chance, because he finally has some faint inkling of the horrible weight Smeagol had carried in his heart all these long ages--earlier, Sam had even briefly transformed into a sort of Gollum when he has that conversation in the dark with himself!--which, again, also ensures that Gollum lives to fulfill his part in the defeat of Sauron. The one time Sam finally chooses to be the least bit kind to Gollum is the time he gets a rock to the head for it--but, again, is also how he completes the quest. Gandalf once said that the mercy of Bilbo would determine the fates of many--so, too, did the mercy of Samwise Gamgee.
Perhaps, if we're going to locate any sort of moralizing lesson in Lord of the Rings at all, it is this: not only is no one person completely good or completely bad, but often our goodness and our badness are made up of the same thing. What obsessed and poisoned Gollum is also what allowed him to save the world; the naivety of Frodo that allowed Gollum to betray him is also what allowed Gollum to destroy the Ring when Frodo betrayed himself. Our weaknesses are our strengths; our virtues are our vices.
Like I said earlier, what makes this chapter work is it's contrasts--and nowhere are contrasts more extreme than in the human soul, on wonderful display throughout this chapter, even wider and broader and deeper than the depths of Mount Doom.
Even already knowing the end from the beginning, and especially after so many chapters of frankly shaky plotting and poor pacing, the way that Tolkien finally wraps together all of the moving pieces of not only The Lord of the Ring, but his entire Middle Earth mythology, in such a resoundingly satisfying manner--and that without sacrificing the intimacy, humility, and humanity of his central characters--is nothing short of astounding. If, after all of our many searing critiques of Tolkien's many literary shortcomings, there were any question as to why Lord of the Rings remains the most widely beloved fantasy series of the 20th century, the answer must be that readers are willing to forgive a lot in a story if the climax is strong--and boy does Tolkien have a crackerjack climax!
I think what makes this chapter work so memorably is the strength of its contrasts: the meekness and weakness of the Hobbits contrasted against the apocalyptic grandiosity of their mission; the Hobbits' relentless hopelessness in the first half of this chapter contrasted with Sauron's absolute terror in the second; the complete darkness of Mordor (such that Galadriel's light won't even work anymore--an excellent detail) contrasted with the complete victory of the finale.
And then there's Gollum.
We've all read the books before and we've all seen the movies, so at this point Gollum's role in the final destruction of the Ring is so much a part of the cultural air we breath that it may be easy to forget just what a fantastic twist it really is. For the question that permeated near the entirety of Book IV is whether Gollum is good or bad, friend or foe, redeemable or irredeemable, an asset or a liability; back in "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol," I posited that "what is most fascinating is that Tolkien's eventual answer to this question will be--Yes." Now here at Mount Doom, I find that the answer is also, simultaneously, "No." Gollum never finds redemption, never gets better, never wins release, his story ends as bitter and tragic as it began--but his selfishness and monomania is also what saves the world in the end! Even more of a Christ-analogue than Strider, Gollum suffers immeasurably so that the rest of us might be redeemed--he is the Judas who ensures the Atonement who is also still Jesus. It is an enormously complex ending to that particular character arc, one that complicates any easy good-vs-evil narrative in wonderful ways!
What I also noticed this time round is how those same fraught questions of good and evil apply to Frodo and Sam as well! Frodo finally succumbs to the seductive power of the Ring in the fatal moment--he fails guys, he fails!--but that same seductive power is also what finally gets Gollum to inadvertantly destroy it, too; what was wicked in both Frodo and Gollum is also what saves Middle Earth--it is the Ring that finally trips over its own feet in the end.
Likewise Sam, who had held the Ring the briefest of them all, fails to kill treacherous Gollum when he finally has the chance, because he finally has some faint inkling of the horrible weight Smeagol had carried in his heart all these long ages--earlier, Sam had even briefly transformed into a sort of Gollum when he has that conversation in the dark with himself!--which, again, also ensures that Gollum lives to fulfill his part in the defeat of Sauron. The one time Sam finally chooses to be the least bit kind to Gollum is the time he gets a rock to the head for it--but, again, is also how he completes the quest. Gandalf once said that the mercy of Bilbo would determine the fates of many--so, too, did the mercy of Samwise Gamgee.
Perhaps, if we're going to locate any sort of moralizing lesson in Lord of the Rings at all, it is this: not only is no one person completely good or completely bad, but often our goodness and our badness are made up of the same thing. What obsessed and poisoned Gollum is also what allowed him to save the world; the naivety of Frodo that allowed Gollum to betray him is also what allowed Gollum to destroy the Ring when Frodo betrayed himself. Our weaknesses are our strengths; our virtues are our vices.
Like I said earlier, what makes this chapter work is it's contrasts--and nowhere are contrasts more extreme than in the human soul, on wonderful display throughout this chapter, even wider and broader and deeper than the depths of Mount Doom.
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