Chapter 1: The Taming of Sméagol
Eric's Thoughts (9/8/15)
The character of Smeagol/Gollum is iconic, and makes a much delayed entrance into the book here. Riddles in the dark was one of my favorite chapters in the Hobbit.
When Gollum finally appears, I realized how notable Gollum's absence for over half the book was. It's amazing what Gollum does to pepper up a story where some of the chapters have really dragged. The entrance is delayed, but when it comes it's a true delight. It's foreshadowed properly as well--Gandalf and the Company mention that someone is following them numerous times throughout the book.
There's one scene worth mentioning before Gollum. I still remember the rope scene, where Sam bemoans the loss of the rope by tying it. He gives it one last tug lovingly, and the rope falls. Frodo jokes (and half says it seriously) that he was foolish to trust Sam's knot. Sam takes it as a personal affront. It's a lovely scene, and something that really helps to establish character. Sam becomes one of the best developed characters in the story, and it's scenes like this that really help flesh him out.
Gollum's reputation, of course, precedes himself. When Gollum appears, the Hobbits overpower him, and Gollum weeps. Frodo takes pity on Gollum, and follows Gandalf's advice and shows mercy. Sam, of course, doesn't trust Gollum, and makes that very clear. This is another great way that Tolkien brings characterization. Frodo (foolishly) seems to trust Gollum whole-heartedly, and Sam doesn't buy Gollum's act for a moment.
When Gollum wishes to swear on The Precious, Frodo's corruption shows for a moment. Frodo will not allow it. Period. It's little things like that over the course of the book that hint at Frodo's final decision at Mount Doom.
One thing I always wondered: would Sam had claimed the Ring as his own? Sam, with Frodo the whole time, seems completely immune to the Ring. Even when Sam is reluctant to hand the Ring to Frodo later on, it's not because Sam wants the Ring for his own. It's because Sam is concerned about handing another dose of heroin to a junky who demands it.
Jacob's Thoughts (9/16/15)
Interesting pronoun shifts here--almost as though Tolkien himself was unsure of quite how to properly denominate Book IV's signature creature. First is the fact that there doesn't appear to be any clear moment when we shift from calling the guy "Gollum" to "Sméagol". What's more, the two names continue to be used interchangeably, making it all the more difficult to properly track when we're referring to the ring-obsessed demon or the age-old former-hobbit hidden underneath--which of course compounds the confusion Frodo and Sam are likewise feeling about this creature.
Then of course there is just the problematic term "creature" itself--is this a man or a beast? Tolkien himself can't seem to make up his mind--Gollum/Sméagol is referred in turn as "it" and as "he/him," with little apparent rhyme or reason. Our erstwhile anti-hero is in turn dehumanized and rehumanized from paragraph to paragraph, sometimes sentence to sentence. Somehow these endless pronoun shifts have unsettled me more about this character than all of the arid wasteland of Mordor.
Dual-identities is of course the overriding them of Gollum--as Tolkien likewise makes explicitly clear, Sméagol is Frodo's mirror image, in both the sense of his opposite and his monstrous double. Has René Girard ever commented on Lord of the Rings? The famed French philosopher probably thinks such "pop" literature was beneath him, which is a shame, cause Gollum/Sméagol seems custom built for Violence and the Sacred. For the 1972 study likewise focuses upon monstrous doubles, mimetic desire for the same scarce resources (in this case, the single Ring of Power)--and of course likewise features a "Pharmakos", the Greek root of our English word Pharmacology. "Pharmakos" is loosely defined by Girard as simultaneously the poison and the cure (like the Ring that both poisons and extends life), which has absorbed all the potential for vengeance and violence of the larger community, and must become the sacrificial scapegoat cast out from society in order to short-circuit the never-ending cycle of retributive violence.
In Girard's model, the scapegoat, since it is the sacred talisman that prevents the spread of self-destructive communal violence, even eventually came to be worshipped, and at last deified, which is thus the ancient root of monarchy. Hence, Louis XVI was ironically correct to claim divine right for his kingship--which divinity he was literally fulfilling as the sacrificed Pharmakos during the Reign of Terror. The Pharmakos, then, is both what you desire and what repulses you--the monstrous double.
In one sense, the Ring is clearly the Pharmakos here--it has absorbed all violence and desire for power into itself, and consequently everyone desires it even as they fear it. It is the scapegoat that must be destroyed to short-circuit the endless cycle of violence. But Gollum is a Pharmakos, too--and as we all recall of from Return of the King, he is the one who will be killed to bring about this necessary sacrifice of the Ring. Here is where Tolkien, despite all his other vaguely-drawn characters, makes a key insight into human nature--those who repulse us do so precisely because of how much they are like us, not from how different they are. Frodo comes to recognize this as well: he sees in Gollum what he could be, indeed what he is already becoming. The tragedy of Gollum isn't that his addiction got the best of him, but rather that he succumbed for the rest of us, so we wouldn't have to. To quoth Isaiah, "There is no beauty in him that we should desire him." By his stripes we are healed.
Ben's Thoughts (10/27/15)
Jacob delved deeply into some Gollum-y psychoanalysis; I'll stick to commenting on the beauty and depth of this chapter. It's very refreshing to return to Frodo and Sam. I feel like Tolkien, as well, must have breathed a sigh of relief when he wrote about the Hobbits. Frodo and Sam are written with neither the goofy joviality of Merry and Pippin, nor the almost bombastic epic style of Gandalf and Aragorn. Instead, the prose here is calm and down-to-earth, almost jarringly anachronistic thanks to Sam's vernacular (probably the weakest part of these chapters, in my opinion), and manages to delve deeply into the minds of both Frodo and Sam to the benefit of the reader. Notably, we do stay out of Gollum's mind; Tolkien does provide sharp descriptions of Gollum's mannerisms and even facial expressions that provide clues about his thoughts and feelings, but Tolkien chooses not to express his point of view at this point. A wise decision, in my opinion, but we will get to dig inside Gollum's mind in later chapters.
First a few words on the beauty of this chapter. When I was a kid I think I rushed through the early sections to get to the plot-advancing confrontation between Gollum and the hobbits. However, I did myself a disservice through skimming because I missed some of the most beautiful description Tolkien has provided to date. The way he describes the storm, for example, is simply stunning:
Just a few thoughts on the plot: Frodo is really trusting in the power of the Ring to bind Gollum to his promise at the end of the chapter. This seems... unwise, especially since he himself acknowledges how dangerous touching one's life to the Ring can be: "It is more treacherous than you are. It may twist your words. Beware!" This seems to be another clue that by declaring himself the Master of the Precious, Frodo is already far deeper under its sway than the reader can outwardly discern. Frodo when weilding the power of the Ring is nowhere close to where Gandalf or Sauron himself would be if he claimed it, but still is an imposing figure: "A tall stern shadow, a mighty lord who hid his brightness in grey cloud."
Finally, it's interesting to note the parallels, as Jacob has done already to some extent, between our trio. Each share notable characteristics. Gollum and Frodo are both, as Jacob noted, affected by the power of the Ring and have a connection that Sam cannot fathom therein. Frodo and Sam are linked by friendship and their roots in the Shire, although here Tolkien's notions of class and gentry come back to the forefront with the clear superior-subservient relationship between "Mr. Frodo" and Sam (remember, Frodo is gentry and Sam is working-class -- although it is worthwhile to remember that Sam, while older than Merry and Pippin, is younger than Frodo by something like twenty years). And finally, Sam and Gollum share Frodo as their master, superior, and leader, and one must wonder whether Sam's animosity towards Gollum stems in part from the sense that the two have an unseen connection that he will never share.
Love Book IV and these chapters. Looking forward to the rest.
The character of Smeagol/Gollum is iconic, and makes a much delayed entrance into the book here. Riddles in the dark was one of my favorite chapters in the Hobbit.
When Gollum finally appears, I realized how notable Gollum's absence for over half the book was. It's amazing what Gollum does to pepper up a story where some of the chapters have really dragged. The entrance is delayed, but when it comes it's a true delight. It's foreshadowed properly as well--Gandalf and the Company mention that someone is following them numerous times throughout the book.
There's one scene worth mentioning before Gollum. I still remember the rope scene, where Sam bemoans the loss of the rope by tying it. He gives it one last tug lovingly, and the rope falls. Frodo jokes (and half says it seriously) that he was foolish to trust Sam's knot. Sam takes it as a personal affront. It's a lovely scene, and something that really helps to establish character. Sam becomes one of the best developed characters in the story, and it's scenes like this that really help flesh him out.
Gollum's reputation, of course, precedes himself. When Gollum appears, the Hobbits overpower him, and Gollum weeps. Frodo takes pity on Gollum, and follows Gandalf's advice and shows mercy. Sam, of course, doesn't trust Gollum, and makes that very clear. This is another great way that Tolkien brings characterization. Frodo (foolishly) seems to trust Gollum whole-heartedly, and Sam doesn't buy Gollum's act for a moment.
When Gollum wishes to swear on The Precious, Frodo's corruption shows for a moment. Frodo will not allow it. Period. It's little things like that over the course of the book that hint at Frodo's final decision at Mount Doom.
One thing I always wondered: would Sam had claimed the Ring as his own? Sam, with Frodo the whole time, seems completely immune to the Ring. Even when Sam is reluctant to hand the Ring to Frodo later on, it's not because Sam wants the Ring for his own. It's because Sam is concerned about handing another dose of heroin to a junky who demands it.
Jacob's Thoughts (9/16/15)
Interesting pronoun shifts here--almost as though Tolkien himself was unsure of quite how to properly denominate Book IV's signature creature. First is the fact that there doesn't appear to be any clear moment when we shift from calling the guy "Gollum" to "Sméagol". What's more, the two names continue to be used interchangeably, making it all the more difficult to properly track when we're referring to the ring-obsessed demon or the age-old former-hobbit hidden underneath--which of course compounds the confusion Frodo and Sam are likewise feeling about this creature.
Then of course there is just the problematic term "creature" itself--is this a man or a beast? Tolkien himself can't seem to make up his mind--Gollum/Sméagol is referred in turn as "it" and as "he/him," with little apparent rhyme or reason. Our erstwhile anti-hero is in turn dehumanized and rehumanized from paragraph to paragraph, sometimes sentence to sentence. Somehow these endless pronoun shifts have unsettled me more about this character than all of the arid wasteland of Mordor.
Dual-identities is of course the overriding them of Gollum--as Tolkien likewise makes explicitly clear, Sméagol is Frodo's mirror image, in both the sense of his opposite and his monstrous double. Has René Girard ever commented on Lord of the Rings? The famed French philosopher probably thinks such "pop" literature was beneath him, which is a shame, cause Gollum/Sméagol seems custom built for Violence and the Sacred. For the 1972 study likewise focuses upon monstrous doubles, mimetic desire for the same scarce resources (in this case, the single Ring of Power)--and of course likewise features a "Pharmakos", the Greek root of our English word Pharmacology. "Pharmakos" is loosely defined by Girard as simultaneously the poison and the cure (like the Ring that both poisons and extends life), which has absorbed all the potential for vengeance and violence of the larger community, and must become the sacrificial scapegoat cast out from society in order to short-circuit the never-ending cycle of retributive violence.
In Girard's model, the scapegoat, since it is the sacred talisman that prevents the spread of self-destructive communal violence, even eventually came to be worshipped, and at last deified, which is thus the ancient root of monarchy. Hence, Louis XVI was ironically correct to claim divine right for his kingship--which divinity he was literally fulfilling as the sacrificed Pharmakos during the Reign of Terror. The Pharmakos, then, is both what you desire and what repulses you--the monstrous double.
In one sense, the Ring is clearly the Pharmakos here--it has absorbed all violence and desire for power into itself, and consequently everyone desires it even as they fear it. It is the scapegoat that must be destroyed to short-circuit the endless cycle of violence. But Gollum is a Pharmakos, too--and as we all recall of from Return of the King, he is the one who will be killed to bring about this necessary sacrifice of the Ring. Here is where Tolkien, despite all his other vaguely-drawn characters, makes a key insight into human nature--those who repulse us do so precisely because of how much they are like us, not from how different they are. Frodo comes to recognize this as well: he sees in Gollum what he could be, indeed what he is already becoming. The tragedy of Gollum isn't that his addiction got the best of him, but rather that he succumbed for the rest of us, so we wouldn't have to. To quoth Isaiah, "There is no beauty in him that we should desire him." By his stripes we are healed.
Ben's Thoughts (10/27/15)
Jacob delved deeply into some Gollum-y psychoanalysis; I'll stick to commenting on the beauty and depth of this chapter. It's very refreshing to return to Frodo and Sam. I feel like Tolkien, as well, must have breathed a sigh of relief when he wrote about the Hobbits. Frodo and Sam are written with neither the goofy joviality of Merry and Pippin, nor the almost bombastic epic style of Gandalf and Aragorn. Instead, the prose here is calm and down-to-earth, almost jarringly anachronistic thanks to Sam's vernacular (probably the weakest part of these chapters, in my opinion), and manages to delve deeply into the minds of both Frodo and Sam to the benefit of the reader. Notably, we do stay out of Gollum's mind; Tolkien does provide sharp descriptions of Gollum's mannerisms and even facial expressions that provide clues about his thoughts and feelings, but Tolkien chooses not to express his point of view at this point. A wise decision, in my opinion, but we will get to dig inside Gollum's mind in later chapters.
First a few words on the beauty of this chapter. When I was a kid I think I rushed through the early sections to get to the plot-advancing confrontation between Gollum and the hobbits. However, I did myself a disservice through skimming because I missed some of the most beautiful description Tolkien has provided to date. The way he describes the storm, for example, is simply stunning:
"The skirts of the storm were lifting, ragged and wet, and the main battle had passed to spread its great wings over the Emyn Muil; upon which the dark thought of Sauron brooded for a while. Thence it turned, smiting the Vale of Anduin with hail and lightning, and casting its shadow upon Minas Tirith with threat of war. Then, lowering in the mountains, and gathering its great spires, it rolled on slowly over Gondor and the skirts of Rohan, until far away the Riders on the plain saw its black towers moving behind the sun, as they rode into the West. But here, over the desert and the reeking marshes the deep blue sky of evening opened once more, and a few pallid stars appeared, like small white holes in the canopy above the crescent moon."I felt compelled to quote the whole passage because it does so much: it provides a sense of location for the reader, while reminding them of the struggle of the other characters taking place elsewhere, while orienting the reader as to the exact time of the present setting (because we have gone back in time some weeks from where we left Gandalf and Pippin), while reminding the reader of the ever-present danger of Sauron, while being just a lovely passage in and of iself, chock full of imagery and metaphor. The Professor's done it again, students.
Just a few thoughts on the plot: Frodo is really trusting in the power of the Ring to bind Gollum to his promise at the end of the chapter. This seems... unwise, especially since he himself acknowledges how dangerous touching one's life to the Ring can be: "It is more treacherous than you are. It may twist your words. Beware!" This seems to be another clue that by declaring himself the Master of the Precious, Frodo is already far deeper under its sway than the reader can outwardly discern. Frodo when weilding the power of the Ring is nowhere close to where Gandalf or Sauron himself would be if he claimed it, but still is an imposing figure: "A tall stern shadow, a mighty lord who hid his brightness in grey cloud."
Finally, it's interesting to note the parallels, as Jacob has done already to some extent, between our trio. Each share notable characteristics. Gollum and Frodo are both, as Jacob noted, affected by the power of the Ring and have a connection that Sam cannot fathom therein. Frodo and Sam are linked by friendship and their roots in the Shire, although here Tolkien's notions of class and gentry come back to the forefront with the clear superior-subservient relationship between "Mr. Frodo" and Sam (remember, Frodo is gentry and Sam is working-class -- although it is worthwhile to remember that Sam, while older than Merry and Pippin, is younger than Frodo by something like twenty years). And finally, Sam and Gollum share Frodo as their master, superior, and leader, and one must wonder whether Sam's animosity towards Gollum stems in part from the sense that the two have an unseen connection that he will never share.
Love Book IV and these chapters. Looking forward to the rest.
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