Chapter 7: Homeward Bound
Back in my teen years, when I still played RPGs, I recall that there was a peculiar sort of melancholy that came with wondering back to the start of the map. After so many hours of game-play and experience-points, you now find that all those formidable villains that gave you so much grief when you were still trying to get the hang of the controls are now pansies, push-overs. But there's little sense of achievement, no cock-sure swagger, that comes from re-exploring those first levels; on the contrary, there's a nagging sense of waste--partly from all the irretrievable time you blew playing video-games (time that was perhaps better spent studying Spanish or Greek history or volunteering at shelters or protesting wars), but also from the feeling that you've abandoned all forward momentum, that you are exhibiting a rather childish nostalgia for places that literally never were. You are not only not moving forward with the game, you are not moving forward with your life (that might be why I finally quit playing video-games).
That, I think, is the peculiar melancholy facing Frodo and company as they near the Shire. From our old friends Butterbur and Nob in the Prancing Pony, we learn that all's not well in the neighborhood. Commerce with the Shire has slowed to a stand-still, a sort of police state with checkpoints has arisen, and the people of Bree now lock their doors at night. Swiftly we learn that Saruman is likely behind it all. The Hobbits are initially non-plussed, because they have Gandalf with them to set it right--except that Gandalf declares that that's not his job anymore, that in fact he is going to catch-up with Tom Bombadil instead (because I guess Tolkien couldn't pass up one more chance for Tom to be completely useless). Besides, says Gandalf, "you will need no help. You are grown now. Grown indeed very high; among the great you are, and I have no longer any fear at all for any of you" (340). Don't you see, Hobbits? You have so many more experience-points now! The gang that once huddled in fear of Farmer Maggot have slain Shelob, Witch-Kings, Orcs, and faced the wrath of Mordor itself; nothing in the mere Shire can frighten them now. This should be a triumphant homecoming for them. But the knife-wound in Frodo's shoulder, the one that refuses to fully heal, says otherwise.
Now, I have some quibbles with Gandalf's reasoning here: first of all, if his mission on Middle-Earth is (vaguely) to "set things right again," then as long as Saruman is still around to wreck mischief, well then Gandalf still hasn't quite finished his mission, now has he. Nevertheless, there is still something charming about how Gandalf sets off our little Hobbit band to defeat the final Boss for themselves. It feels less that Gandalf can't be bothered to help than it is that he wants the Hobbits to see for themselves how much they've grown. That's how this whole series started, isn't it; in The Hobbit, Gandalf nudged Bilbo Baggins into a treasure-hunt with the Dwarves not so much because they actually needed his help than because he wanted to help Bilbo grow a bit, get out of his comfort zone, realize some of his potential. Frodo was forced into the Ring Quest by much more dire circumstance, but Gandalf's purposes with him are much the same: to not only save the world, but to help Frodo become more than he is, as well. It is a personal-growth that dates clear back to the episode with the Barrow-Wights, when Frodo realized:
"There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey" (Fellowship pg. 194).
Likewise, Gandalf sends the Hobbits back to the Shire alone, so that they can realize for themselves that they now have the inner-strength and confidence necessary to solve all their problems for themselves, and not always wait for Gandalf to bail them out. According to Joseph Campbell, that is the whole point of the Hero Cycle: for the hero to not only save the world, but to save himself, to achieve Apotheosis, resurrect, and ascend to a higher level. The Cycle, as implied by the very term, ends with the Hero returning home triumphant, to save his people, as these Hobbits now do. Like Odysseus in Homer's Odyssey, our heroes come home to clear out the usurpers.
But then, one of the frequent criticisms leveled against Campbell (besides his over-reliance on patternism, reductionism, and formula) is that, in myth, the Hero rarely if ever returns. Hercules does not return home to Greece once he ascends Mt. Olympus. Aeneus cannot return to Troy, or even to Dido. Odysseus cannot stay home in Ithaca but must travel inland with an oar o'er his shoulder to pay oblations to Poseidon. Luke Skywalker does not return to his Uncle's farm on Tatooine. Harry Potter never returns to finish his senior year at Hogwarts. And Jesus Christ does not return to the carpentry shop in Nazareth.
And Frodo cannot stay in the Shire, as we will find in a couple chapters. Hence the melancholy, that I mentioned earlier, of going back. Probably because we cannot go back, not really, not ever. The Hero Cycle is not a cycle at all. Frodo is re-visiting the Shire, but not actually returning. It's like revisiting your old home-town, or the house you were born in, your old High School . You can maybe enjoy a few fleeting moments of pleasant nostalgia, but anything more than that makes you restless, makes you feel arrested, like you're wasting time. You didn't undergo all that growth just to return to where you started.
"It seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded", says Sam as they approach the Shire; "Not to me," says Frodo, "To me it feels more like falling asleep again" (341). Not only can't we return home again, we shouldn't, either. The end-credits song that closes out The Two Towers film perhaps has it right: "You can never go home."
Ben's Thoughts (8/24/17)
Jacob touched on it briefly at the end of his post, but I want to highlight it a bit further: the differences between how the hobbits approach their "adventure," to use a somewhat inapplicable term. Merry says "it seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded." Frodo, however, says "To me it feels more like falling asleep again."
I never realized what that meant growing up. In every single one of my prior reads, I think I glossed over that line as a flippant joke in my hurry to get to the excitement of "Scouring of the Shire," like Frodo was saying that he sure was sleepy and won't it be great to get to a nice warm fireside again. Only this time around have I read that as it's truly meant: his prior life was a dream, and his real life was the adventure.
Of course, for Frodo, the truly heartbreaking thing about his "real life" is that it was full of trauma. The comment about "falling asleep" back into his old life is the second bookend to the chapter opener, where he reveals to Gandalf that "There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?" His experiences were all to horrifyingly "real" to him, and in the face of that trauma, the seemingly idyllic life of the Shire seems suddenly empty.
Merry and Pippin, and probably to a lesser extent, Sam, are returning to their lives in the Shire. Looking at the later chronologies, Merry and Pippin become civic leaders in their respective ethnic communities, and Sam becomes Mayor of the Shire many times over. Each of them marry and have many children. For them, their adventures were formative experiences, with "wishes come true" (as Sam states) along the way. Frodo, on the other hand, never marries, never has children, never engaged with the community, and swiftly leaves the Shire -- and Middle-earth in its entirety -- behind. He has a choice between a dream and a nightmare. He chooses escape instead.
The other joy of these chapters is revisiting our old stomping grounds to see how the community has reacted to difficult circumstances. In "Prancing Pony" way back in Book I, everyone was bewildered by the strange events and dangerous creatures come among them. Now, everyone's hardened -- Butturbur comes out with a cudgel, for heaven's sake. Hidden depths indeed, but it took hard lessons to get them there. The same will be shown in the following chapter, one of the best in the trilogy. Looking forward to it.
Eric's Thoughts (9/10/17)
Wherein herein lies a transitional chapter, wherein herein it only deserves a transitional analysis.
Homeward Bound (the chapter) could be best described by Homeward Bound (the movie), which assuredly everyone watched growing up. Remember that one? No?
I will summarize. There are two dogs and a cat in that movie (I think). The animals get lost. They have to find their way home. Antics ensue, including a porcupine attack to one of the dog's faces. (I'm pretty sure that happened. Anyone willing to (re)watch it to make sure?)
All right, maybe the chapter is not all that similar with the movie, but you get the point. The hobbits are bounding towards home -- i.e. they are homeward bound. Along the way they see Butterbeer, err, Butterbur. Him and Knob and Cobb are much more suspicious towards outsiders. Tolkien is doing this to show that the world the hobbits left behind has changed. As have the hobbits.
Gandalf leaves, again. (You may be be wondering: why is that wizard always running off at critical moments?? He did the same thing in The Hobbit! [Spoiler below***])
The chapter ends with a real cliffhanger as the hobbits approach home. Is everyone the way it was??? Can Sam go back to a peaceful life of gardening notwithstanding the visions that he saw in Lothlorien and Butterbur's ominous foreshadowing in Bree??? Dum - dum - dum!!!! We'll have to see!!!!
***Answer: Because that way the characters can develop without a crutch. The wizard / helper figure generally has to be taken out of the equation so that the hero can truly demonstrate his/her apotheosis. See Campbell.
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