This certainly is a bridge chapter, linking the hobbit's desperation at the Morannon to their final journey to Kirith Ungol. It introduces Faramir, who will be an important figure in Book V -- until he is conveniently shoved under the table in the final book, but we'll leave that for another time -- and gives us more details on the Southrons, the Haradrim.
I mentioned my fond memories of this chapter at the end of my last post. Basically I remember that one of the first times, or possibly the first time that I read this chapter, it was lying on the couch in the front room of my childhood home, on a Sunday after (or possibly before?) church with the full summer sun streaming in through the window onto the couch and me lying there. It was beautifully warm, and I didn't have a care in the world, and I laughed at Sam's banter with Gollum. It's a fond memory, and one of the memories that adds up to my love of The Lord of the Rings; that feeling of peace and contentment and wonder at delving into an exciting and absorbing fantasy world.
But... today the chapter leaves something to be desired. I see less banter in Sam's little chat with Gollum and more, as Jacob put it, "casual abuse." Also, the off-handed racism of the various races and cultures at play here sticks in my craw. More on each of these topics below. Aside from that, this is a harmless chapter. We're reminded again of Frodo's otherworldly connections; his ordeal in bearing the Ring has, in a way, purified him. It's telling that the "inner light" that signifies his connection with the Valar is only switched on when he's sleeping. Most likely, his daytime battle with the opposing forces detailed in previous chapters blocks that connection too much at other times. Tolkien's descriptions of Ithilien are beautiful, as well, even though I prefer more grandiose landscapes (craggy mountains or rolling oceans), myself.
Now, on Gollum and Sam. Sam is just terribly cruel to the poor wretch here. He sends him off to find them some food, knowing full well that he will be preparing the food in a way that Gollum will be unable or at least unwilling to eat. He threatens him with physical harm when Gollum refuses to do as he asks, perhaps in a misguided dominance tactic. And finally, after his threats and verbal abuse ("you're hopeless", for example) he tries again to get Gollum to do as he asked. It's small wonder that Gollum slunk off into the brush after that exchange. Sam is just completely unwilling to see past his own cultural standards; so unable to visualize Gollum's point of view about anything. And here the hobbits are almost totally in Gollum's hands. Doesn't Sam realize that Gollum could try to kill or betray them at any opportunity? Or does he trust so implicitly the oath that Gollum made on the Ring, that he disregards all reason in belittling, disregarding, and abusing him? It baffles me. It is of course both realistic and necessary to the plot, but it's still frustrating.
Finally, the racism. It must be mentioned. The Haradrim are "dark," the Gondorians are "pale-skinned." The Haradrim are "ever ready" to serve the Enemy, the Gondorians are stalwart defenders against his evil. I suppose it could be argued that Sam's internal monologue about the dead Haradrim soldier redeems Tolkien somewhat, but unfortunately, Sam's questions about whether the man was coerced or tricked into fighting against the white good guys is not answered by the text. In the next book the racism will compound, as the Easterlings and other servants of Sauron are pervasively described as "swarthy" or otherwise dark-skinned (and let us never forget that orcs have black skins and other "good" people, like the Rohirrim, are fair-skinned Nordic knock-offs). I know, it was another time, but I just have to wonder what went through Tolkien's mind when he wrote that into the story. It jerks me out of my immersion in Middle-earth, when I read it this time around. Others have written about Tolkien's (probably unconscious) racism at length elsewhere; I don't have anything else to say about it. I just think it bears mentioning.
Looking forward to more Faramir in the next chapter. Right now all my mind summons about him is the Jackson films' true bastardization of his character in the second film.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
"The Black Gate is Closed" - Ben's Thoughts
Eric's right, there's just not a lot to this chapter. The main entrance to Mordor is about as grim and insurmountable as one would expect; we've seen the trope so many times now in so many different fantasy tales that it's almost cliche at this point. The evil overlord blockades himself in his chosen land or kingdom; a blasted, desolate wasteland that serves to counterpoint the proud, warrior state of the main military protagonists (Gondor in LOTR), and the idyllic, tranquil homeland of the protagonists themselves (the Shire). Of course, it's all symbolism, because once you start to think about Mordor, the realism falls apart. What do these vast armies of orcs and men eat? I think there's a throw-away line in "Return of the King" about how Sauron has farmer-slaves tilling the soil for his armies in the inner depths of the land, but that really doesn't and cannot explain all the infrastructure the Dark Lord has in place here. It's all right, though, because symbolism.
I suppose I've been spoiled by more recent series I've read where the antagonists are flawed human beings, rather than evil godlike overlords. I feel like those kinds of villains teach me more about myself and what I might be capable of, in the extreme instance, that Sauron and his ilk. But they call this sort of book "high fantasy" for a reason; the protagonists are struggling against an idea, more than an actual individual.
Like Jacob highlighted, the chapter devotes a large portion of its text in bringing home to the reader just how much the hobbits are in over their heads. They had no idea what they were going to do when they reached Mordor; they didn't know anything about it at all. This seems like an egregious oversight on Gandalf and Elrond's part. Didn't they even consider the possibility that Frodo might get separated from Aragorn or Gandalf at some point? Didn't they sit the hobbits down and have lessons with them in Rivendell? Like, Geography 101; Political Science 101; crash courses on diplomacy and negotiation with southern cultures (Easterlings, Haradrim, Gondorians, and the like) with an emphasis on culture and military structure. Nope -- instead they allowed the hobbits to frolic around the valley looking at birds and butterflies while the big important folk planned the adventure. Sigh. At the same time, though, this circles back to what I was saying earlier about the hobbits struggling against an idea, not against actual realistic antagonists. It's not a flaw (no matter how annoying) that the hobbits are clueless about how to accomplish their quest. For one, the text itself points out, as Jacob observed, that both of them figured it was hopeless anyway, but just didn't want to dwell on it. And two, the more naive the hobbits are, the more triumphant it will be when they triumph over Sauron, the ultimate planner (heck, he's been planning this conquest for 3000 years and he still manages to screw it up).
Jacob also reminds us about the inherent melancholy of LOTR. Absolutely -- this is a major theme of the book and one that will be brought sharply into focus in "King" after being forgotten, largely, since the Fellowship left Lorien. That is, even if the heroes triumph, entropy will come into full effect; the hold the Elves have over the land will be broken (because the Three Rings, tied to the One, will stop working); and men will slowly forget about them thereby. No matter what happens, it's a net loss for the good guys.
I do have to disagree about the timeliness of the poem in this chapter, though. I'm a fan of Tolkien's poetry and have championed it in a number of chapters where it's been written off as "boring" by everyone else, but here I feel like it's completely out of place. Have Sam sing it in the next chapter, where they actually meet the oliphaunt and the tone is a little lighter. It just doesn't belong here. I don't buy it as a spur for Frodo to finally decide to follow Gollum to Kirith Ungol, either. Sadly, unless I'm misremembering, most of the best poems are already past us, and those from here on out are just tedium. Poetry watch -- stand by.
On to Ithilien. I remember really enjoying the next chapter as a boy -- I'm excited to see whether it holds up.
I suppose I've been spoiled by more recent series I've read where the antagonists are flawed human beings, rather than evil godlike overlords. I feel like those kinds of villains teach me more about myself and what I might be capable of, in the extreme instance, that Sauron and his ilk. But they call this sort of book "high fantasy" for a reason; the protagonists are struggling against an idea, more than an actual individual.
Like Jacob highlighted, the chapter devotes a large portion of its text in bringing home to the reader just how much the hobbits are in over their heads. They had no idea what they were going to do when they reached Mordor; they didn't know anything about it at all. This seems like an egregious oversight on Gandalf and Elrond's part. Didn't they even consider the possibility that Frodo might get separated from Aragorn or Gandalf at some point? Didn't they sit the hobbits down and have lessons with them in Rivendell? Like, Geography 101; Political Science 101; crash courses on diplomacy and negotiation with southern cultures (Easterlings, Haradrim, Gondorians, and the like) with an emphasis on culture and military structure. Nope -- instead they allowed the hobbits to frolic around the valley looking at birds and butterflies while the big important folk planned the adventure. Sigh. At the same time, though, this circles back to what I was saying earlier about the hobbits struggling against an idea, not against actual realistic antagonists. It's not a flaw (no matter how annoying) that the hobbits are clueless about how to accomplish their quest. For one, the text itself points out, as Jacob observed, that both of them figured it was hopeless anyway, but just didn't want to dwell on it. And two, the more naive the hobbits are, the more triumphant it will be when they triumph over Sauron, the ultimate planner (heck, he's been planning this conquest for 3000 years and he still manages to screw it up).
Jacob also reminds us about the inherent melancholy of LOTR. Absolutely -- this is a major theme of the book and one that will be brought sharply into focus in "King" after being forgotten, largely, since the Fellowship left Lorien. That is, even if the heroes triumph, entropy will come into full effect; the hold the Elves have over the land will be broken (because the Three Rings, tied to the One, will stop working); and men will slowly forget about them thereby. No matter what happens, it's a net loss for the good guys.
I do have to disagree about the timeliness of the poem in this chapter, though. I'm a fan of Tolkien's poetry and have championed it in a number of chapters where it's been written off as "boring" by everyone else, but here I feel like it's completely out of place. Have Sam sing it in the next chapter, where they actually meet the oliphaunt and the tone is a little lighter. It just doesn't belong here. I don't buy it as a spur for Frodo to finally decide to follow Gollum to Kirith Ungol, either. Sadly, unless I'm misremembering, most of the best poems are already past us, and those from here on out are just tedium. Poetry watch -- stand by.
On to Ithilien. I remember really enjoying the next chapter as a boy -- I'm excited to see whether it holds up.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
"The Passage of the Marshes" - Ben's Thoughts
The almost plodding pace of Book IV always managed to capture my attention more than the ebbs and flows of Book III, and this chapter is an example why. Tolkien slowly describes the magnitude of the forces arrayed against the hobbits in their journey to Mordor, and at the same time, makes it clear that they have no idea what they are doing. The tension builds, and builds, and by the time we have Black Riders soaring overhead on leathery wings and Smeagol/Gollum on the ground, plotting against the duo, the reader is on the edge of his seat. Not to mention the soul-crushing struggle Frodo is engaged in on a constant basis over mastery of the Ring; the marshes and their environmental threat; and the simple fact that quite aside from being caught, killed, or tortured by the forces of Sauron (and therein dooming the entire world), the duo may not have enough food to even reach the mountain, let alone return back from it. The stakes seem incredibly high; far higher than those present with Aragorn & Co. Their conflicts are almost laughable in comparison.
Eric and Jacob both highlighted the fascinating Gollum section, which leaves the reader wondering just who "She" might be (and shaking their heads as Sam, who immediately dismisses the question out of hand). But what grabbed me this time around was the description of Frodo's struggle with the Ring. It's been years and years since I read LOTR last, and since that last time I've had heaps and heaps of personal responsibility heaped upon me in my own life. Not that I think that's necessarily comparable to dual malevolent forces struggling for dominance of your soul, but I would say that I think most of us can understand ongoing situations of continual stress and pressure, whether from jobs, family members, education, you name it. Frodo's day is one of continual concentration; continual defense against the assault on his will and spirit, both externally from "the Eye" and quasi-internally from "the Ring". The reader practically rejoices when Frodo, at the end of the chapter, wakes to find his burden made lighter, just for a time, by the "fair vision" he enjoyed while dreaming, and the rest he was able to capture.
Finally, I also appreciate the sense of history that Tolkien invests the chapter with. Frodo and Sam are trudging through the battle plain where Sauron was defeated by the combined armies of Men and Elves 3000 years previously, where ultimately Sauron's physical form was destroyed and the Ring was seized by Isildur. There certainly is some circular symbolism here: the Ring is returning to the place where it was seized and created. What is depressing is that the corpses have no affiliation, once dead -- the Elves and Orcs, both at once, are "all foul, all rotting, all dead. A fell light is in them." Their struggle, their battle, is forgotton; they are just present, as shades or figures, with less power than even the Barrow-wights encountered in Book 1. A grim contrast to the honor heaped upon the dead after the battles by the Rohirrim in the last book. Tolkien provides this counterpoint, I think, to once again highlight the fact that war, in and of itself, brings no joy, creates no life; it only ends it.
I'm back! I'm going to try to catch up to you guys by writing one post every day this week. We'll see if we can get back on schedule with the posts.
Eric and Jacob both highlighted the fascinating Gollum section, which leaves the reader wondering just who "She" might be (and shaking their heads as Sam, who immediately dismisses the question out of hand). But what grabbed me this time around was the description of Frodo's struggle with the Ring. It's been years and years since I read LOTR last, and since that last time I've had heaps and heaps of personal responsibility heaped upon me in my own life. Not that I think that's necessarily comparable to dual malevolent forces struggling for dominance of your soul, but I would say that I think most of us can understand ongoing situations of continual stress and pressure, whether from jobs, family members, education, you name it. Frodo's day is one of continual concentration; continual defense against the assault on his will and spirit, both externally from "the Eye" and quasi-internally from "the Ring". The reader practically rejoices when Frodo, at the end of the chapter, wakes to find his burden made lighter, just for a time, by the "fair vision" he enjoyed while dreaming, and the rest he was able to capture.
Finally, I also appreciate the sense of history that Tolkien invests the chapter with. Frodo and Sam are trudging through the battle plain where Sauron was defeated by the combined armies of Men and Elves 3000 years previously, where ultimately Sauron's physical form was destroyed and the Ring was seized by Isildur. There certainly is some circular symbolism here: the Ring is returning to the place where it was seized and created. What is depressing is that the corpses have no affiliation, once dead -- the Elves and Orcs, both at once, are "all foul, all rotting, all dead. A fell light is in them." Their struggle, their battle, is forgotton; they are just present, as shades or figures, with less power than even the Barrow-wights encountered in Book 1. A grim contrast to the honor heaped upon the dead after the battles by the Rohirrim in the last book. Tolkien provides this counterpoint, I think, to once again highlight the fact that war, in and of itself, brings no joy, creates no life; it only ends it.
I'm back! I'm going to try to catch up to you guys by writing one post every day this week. We'll see if we can get back on schedule with the posts.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
"The Window on the West" - Jacob's Thoughts
"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory." (pg. 355).Faramir at this moment becomes I think a mouth-piece for Tolkien's own attitudes towards war; it feels a companion piece to the contemporaneous "Helm's Deep," which, as we previously discussed, likewise considers war to be an inglorious slog, no matter how just the cause. "Helm's Deep" shows it, while "The Window of the West" is the commentary, it seems. Tolkien seems intent on ensuring that his fellow Englishmen do not learn the wrong lessons from WWII.
Yet overall, this chapter overall feels an odd one to parse; in terms of modes for providing info-dumps and back-story, I can think of worse vehicles than an interrogation of world-weary Frodo by enigmatic Faramir (already one of the most likable, intriguing, and fleshed-out new characters we've met in awhile). Really, the verbal chess match between Frodo and Faramir, two fundamentally decent men who nonetheless have strong reason to distrust each other, is the highlight of the chapter; theirs is an oddly noble form of conversational combat, such that when Frodo ultimately loses thanks to Samwise running is big fat mouth off about Boromir and the One Ring at the end, it still doesn't feel quite like a defeat. Quite the contrary, it appears to seal the bond between the two men.
It would seem that Frodo has at last, however briefly, found a kindred spirit who can, in his way, understand what it means to resist the awful temptation of the Ring as he, and that is no small thing (no offense to Sam, but he feels the perennial outsider looking in with all things Ring related; he can love and serve Frodo, but that is not the same as understanding him). It appears that it takes a genuine love of freedom and people, along with a real abhorrence for war and destruction, to refuse the power that the Ring represents.
Nevertheless, so much of what Frodo and Faramir discuss here are things that we've already read ourselves just a short while ago. All this needless rehashing and review was a problem that plagued Book III as well, what with characters recounting the time they last recounted things that they already recounted about, in an irritatingly recursive fashion. This chapter could've definitely used a pruning.
As for locus of their conversation, Boromir: once again, the son of Denethor is more interesting in death than he ever was in life. A cipher much like most the Fellowship throughout Book II, we get a much fuller feel for the complexity of the man in Frodo and Faramir's eulogies and note-swapping, than we ever got when he was still walking amongst the living. It would appear that I was wrong to assume that Tolkien was in a rush to push Boromir off the stage at the start of Two Towers; it wasn't that Tolkien didn't particularly feel like eulogizing him, but rather that Tolkien knew that Boromir would be back, and what's more, would be even more influential dead than alive.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
"The Black Gate is Closed" - Eric's Thoughts
Tolkien seems to obliquely be hinting at something in this chapter. Can't quite put my finger on it . . . perhaps it's that it's difficult to get into Mordor . . . yep. I think that's what he was trying to say.
What really needs to happen is Middle Earth needs a U.N., so that the forces of good can have Mordor join, and then they could work things out. Why not a little diplomacy? Did anyone think of that? I guess the only problem with that is that Mordor would probably get a veto vote, being a world super-power and all.
The U.S. could probably take that Mordor nonsense on, though. We wouldn't need Frodo to infiltrate into Mordor, to cast away a puny ring. We'd nuke the orcs! And the good thing is, since Mordor is already the equivalent of nuclear fallout, there would be no collateral impact to the environment.
Perhaps that is what the ring itself symbolizes--nuclear technology. Using the power corrupts, and leads to another tyrant. But, wait, I guess that metaphor is no good, cause that would make us the bad guys. Shoot.
Let's try again. Err, oh shucks. Who am I kidding? I just don't have much to say about this chapter. Frodo, Sam and Gollum see an impassable wall, Gollum suggests an alternate route, and off they go. The wall represents an obvious hurdle the protagonists must overcome. It is a literal obstacle. (I suppose sometimes chapters really aren't built for commentary.)
I guess one thing I could say is that entering into the land of evil is a common trope. You have to go into the villain's lair to do the deed. Here, Mordor is becoming more real than ever, and you get a sense what a horrible place this is. Tolkien does a great job of establishing mood. I enjoyed the chapter. But I don't have much to say about it.
What really needs to happen is Middle Earth needs a U.N., so that the forces of good can have Mordor join, and then they could work things out. Why not a little diplomacy? Did anyone think of that? I guess the only problem with that is that Mordor would probably get a veto vote, being a world super-power and all.
The U.S. could probably take that Mordor nonsense on, though. We wouldn't need Frodo to infiltrate into Mordor, to cast away a puny ring. We'd nuke the orcs! And the good thing is, since Mordor is already the equivalent of nuclear fallout, there would be no collateral impact to the environment.
Perhaps that is what the ring itself symbolizes--nuclear technology. Using the power corrupts, and leads to another tyrant. But, wait, I guess that metaphor is no good, cause that would make us the bad guys. Shoot.
Let's try again. Err, oh shucks. Who am I kidding? I just don't have much to say about this chapter. Frodo, Sam and Gollum see an impassable wall, Gollum suggests an alternate route, and off they go. The wall represents an obvious hurdle the protagonists must overcome. It is a literal obstacle. (I suppose sometimes chapters really aren't built for commentary.)
I guess one thing I could say is that entering into the land of evil is a common trope. You have to go into the villain's lair to do the deed. Here, Mordor is becoming more real than ever, and you get a sense what a horrible place this is. Tolkien does a great job of establishing mood. I enjoyed the chapter. But I don't have much to say about it.
Sunday, November 15, 2015
"Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit" - Jacob's Thoughts
I don't have nearly as much insight to provide into this chapter, in no small part because the chapter doesn't provide me much to reflect upon. It is primarily a table-setting chapter, one that sets us up the chess-board for the next round of chapters. We can sense that the tension is starting to brew warmer between Sam and Gollum, what with Sam's casual abuse of the poor creature he still doesn't trust, as well as Sam's blithe disregard for Gollum's warning that starting a cooking fire will draw unwanted attention--which of course is exactly what Sam does. Goodness, Sam, you don't have to like Gollum, but could you at least listen to him once in awhile?! He hasn't made nearly as many unforced errors as you ridiculous Hobbits have.
Really, Sam is incredibly lucky that it was Men whom his cooking-fire attracted to their position--it could have easily been orcs, and then it's game-over for our heroes. So, Sam and Frodo are OK for now, but they have now been cut off from their guide Gollum, and though my memories of Book IV are hazy, I can already tell that this apparent abandonment and betrayal of the poor wretch, however unintentional, will have serious ramifications for their relationship, and sets up a fiercer showdown to come between Sam and Gollum.
But again, this is all in the future; for now, all that really happens of note is Frodo and Sam have been put in the path of Faramir, which also portends bigger things--as is shown (a little on the nose, if you ask me), by Sam's much-wished-for Oliphaunt rampaging through the forest right by them.
One final note on Frodo's sudden embrace of honesty-is-the-best-policy when he gives his full biographical data to Faramir: is this a sign of Frodo's growing maturity (the whole "Mr. Underhill" schtick went over so poorly at the Prancing Pony that he figured the truth would be less clumsy this time 'round), or a sign of his growing pessimism and resignation in this quest, such that he scarcely bothers to disguise himself anymore, for what does it matter?
Really, Sam is incredibly lucky that it was Men whom his cooking-fire attracted to their position--it could have easily been orcs, and then it's game-over for our heroes. So, Sam and Frodo are OK for now, but they have now been cut off from their guide Gollum, and though my memories of Book IV are hazy, I can already tell that this apparent abandonment and betrayal of the poor wretch, however unintentional, will have serious ramifications for their relationship, and sets up a fiercer showdown to come between Sam and Gollum.
But again, this is all in the future; for now, all that really happens of note is Frodo and Sam have been put in the path of Faramir, which also portends bigger things--as is shown (a little on the nose, if you ask me), by Sam's much-wished-for Oliphaunt rampaging through the forest right by them.
One final note on Frodo's sudden embrace of honesty-is-the-best-policy when he gives his full biographical data to Faramir: is this a sign of Frodo's growing maturity (the whole "Mr. Underhill" schtick went over so poorly at the Prancing Pony that he figured the truth would be less clumsy this time 'round), or a sign of his growing pessimism and resignation in this quest, such that he scarcely bothers to disguise himself anymore, for what does it matter?
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
"The Passage of the Marshes" - Eric's Thoughts
This chapter is about Gollum, and it's about the terrain. As the hobbits approach their goal, they cross through the land of the dead. As The Hobbit explains, out of the frying pan, into the fire. As they exit the land of the dead, they cross into poisonous pits--and eventually at the gates of Mordor itself.
Similarly, as the terrain grows more treacherous, so does their host Gollum. The reader learns that Gollum intends to serve the precious, but also will not allow it to fall into His hands again. Gollum is experiencing what literary critics call "internal conflict." That means, by the way, that Gollum feels conflicting emotions.
So, our little helpful guide through the marshes turns out to not necessarily be a reformed angel at all. Not that the reader is surprised by this. Tolkien ups the suspense by making it ambiguous whom Gollum serves. Does Gollum serve Frodo? Hardly likely. But at the same time, the conflict itself makes Gollum sympathetic, because the reader understands that part of Gollum wants to help Frodo. The reader wants Gollum to triumph over his lust, and even hoping, knows that tragedy is the only outcome.
As Jacob right points out, the characters of Sam and Frodo tease out this internal tension within Gollum. Just as Gollum is evil, so he is good. For now, the good in Gollum has sway over the evil. Just by a hair. Frodo sees the good within Gollum. Sam sees only the bad.
Sam is right, of course. But Frodo's mercy is what allows evil to undo itself. Gollum is the product of the Ring--and is ultimately what destroys the Ring.
Similarly, as the terrain grows more treacherous, so does their host Gollum. The reader learns that Gollum intends to serve the precious, but also will not allow it to fall into His hands again. Gollum is experiencing what literary critics call "internal conflict." That means, by the way, that Gollum feels conflicting emotions.
So, our little helpful guide through the marshes turns out to not necessarily be a reformed angel at all. Not that the reader is surprised by this. Tolkien ups the suspense by making it ambiguous whom Gollum serves. Does Gollum serve Frodo? Hardly likely. But at the same time, the conflict itself makes Gollum sympathetic, because the reader understands that part of Gollum wants to help Frodo. The reader wants Gollum to triumph over his lust, and even hoping, knows that tragedy is the only outcome.
As Jacob right points out, the characters of Sam and Frodo tease out this internal tension within Gollum. Just as Gollum is evil, so he is good. For now, the good in Gollum has sway over the evil. Just by a hair. Frodo sees the good within Gollum. Sam sees only the bad.
Sam is right, of course. But Frodo's mercy is what allows evil to undo itself. Gollum is the product of the Ring--and is ultimately what destroys the Ring.
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