Part two of Blogging the Silmarillion picks up with the end of chapter 1 of the Quenta Silmarillion (“Of the Beginning of Days”) and continues through the end of Chapter 5 (“Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalie”).

———-

“There cannot be any ‘story’ without a fall—all stories are ultimately about the fall—at least not for human minds as we know them and have them.”

–J.R.R. Tolkien, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

If the opening chapters of The Silmarillion introduce us to the first painful split on Arda—the evacuation of the godlike Valar from Middle-earth to Valinor, a sort of heaven on earth—in the following chapters the sunderings both multiply and grow more acute. First, we’re introduced to the divisions between Men and Elves: both are Children of Ilúvatar, but have some important differences. Next comes a series of painful rents that occur when the Elves dissolve into various groups, sometimes freely and other times against their will. Finally, there’s the little matter of death, the king of all sunderings.

Why is The Silmarillion so concerned with these small separations (adding up to a great fall) from the early paradise of Middle-earth? I believe the reason is twofold. First, we know that Tolkien constructed his legendarium to create either a foundational myth for Middle-earth and/or for England itself. He needed to provide an explanation for how magic went out of Middle-earth, and how it evolved (devolved?) to become the humdrum, human-populated England or latter Ages of Middle-earth that we know today. Each step away from Ilúvatar/the Valar/Valinor/the Elves is a distancing from this magic time, and a step closer to the prosaic age of Men.

Secondly, remember that Tolkien was suffused in death from his earliest days. Both his parents died when he was young, and two of his best friends were killed during World War I. How to make sense of this tragedy? Spend your life creating a grand myth to explain it. The Silmarillion provided him with a stage on which he could grapple with its mystery and create a myth for death itself.

(Continue reading this post)

Blogging The Silmarillion: Series introduction

In part one of Blogging the Silmarillion, I’m sharing my thoughts on the first two sections of the book, “Ainulindalë,” and “Valaquenta,” as well as Chapter 1 of section three of the Quenta Silmarillion, “Of the Beginning of Days”.

The Silmarillion begins with “Ainulindalë,” which means “Music of the Ainur.” This is Tolkien’s creation myth. As I re-read this chapter, I was struck by its affinity with John Milton’s Paradise Lost, both in terms of its imagery and characters, and in its thematic similarity to the Christian fall of man. The language is also similar, biblical and epic and “high.”

In “Ainulindalë” we learn that Ilúvatar is the creator of the known universe, including Middle-earth. This place of wizards, heroes, orcs, dragons, and dark lords, has an omnipotent, single creator. This is an incredibly important fact. We can guess at the presence of a creator in The Lord of the Rings, but only barely. For example, Sam, journeying with Frodo in the heart of Mordor and at the nadir of his faith and endurance, senses the presence of something greater beyond this world, buoying his spirit and giving him the strength to continue:

“Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”

Though we don’t have a name for which to assign Sam’s divine revelation, upon re-reading The Silmarillion I realized that this is Varda (Elbereth), whose face radiates the light of Ilúvatar. It’s always been one of my favorite moments in Tolkien, and The Silmarillion helped me understand why.

(Continue reading this post)

James Maliszewski

Yesterday, James Maliszewski, proprieter of the Grognardia website, as well as a Friend of the Cimmerian, wrote up a thoughtful birthday post regarding Tollers. Primarily, the entry is concerned with the influence of the appendices for The Lord of the Rings upon James’ early role-playing gaming career. It’s a worthy piece and I advise the RPG-inclined to check it out.

However, while not exactly a quibble, I think it worth mentioning that Tolkien did not in reality “box in” or over-explicate his sub-creation of Middle-earth as much as some surmise. If one excludes The Silmarillion and considers only The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, then JRRT left vast areas of his world unexplored and saw fit to let many metaphysical questions remain unanswered. The only region given a thorough going-over was north-western Middle-earth and even that had large areas about which little was revealed, whether in the tales themselves or in the appendices.

In contrast, Robert E. Howard had Conan personally visit many more far-flung regions (though it appears Aragorn came close to matching the Cimmerian in his own wanderings). In Howard’s (barely) post-Hyborian Age yarn, “Marchers of Valhalla,” he had Hialmar’s Æsir war-band nearly circumnavigate the globe on foot. In addition, while no official ‘appendix,’ REH’s “The Hyborian Age” essay goes a long way towards fulfilling that function. 

Just something that occurred to me.

Last time, I spoke of a positive barbarian group of Middle-earth in the Dúnedain. This week, in celebration of Toller’s eleventy-eighth birthday, I’ll look at some of his Men of Darkness, the Haradrim: exploring their appearance, history, culture, historical and Howardian analogues, and their motivations for aligning with Sauron. Far from the faceless, generic “bad guys” a surface analysis would suggest, the Haradrim are very human, and the monster they became in the Third Age was created not just by Sauron, but by the protagonists’ own ancestors. A stark rebuttal of the black-and-white morality some critics level on Tolkien’s peoples, the Haradrim have a long and complicated history.

(Continue reading this post)

Nevertheless it was the work of his heart, which occupied him for far longer than The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings. The better-known works are in a way only offshoots, side-branches, of the immense chronicle/mythology/legendarium which is the ‘Silmarillion.’

–Thomas Shippey, J.R.R. Tolkien, Author of the Century

Few works of fantasy are as maligned and misunderstood as J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion. As the late Steve Tompkins noted, it’s a work that seemed to have been much-purchased upon its 1977 publication but is anecdotally little-read, and is certainly the subject of many strong opinions, both positive and negative. Wikipedia sums up a good portion of the critical response to The Silmarillion upon its release as follows:

Some reviewers, however, had nothing positive to say about the book at all. The New York Review of Books called The Silmarillion “an empty and pompous bore”, “not a literary event of any magnitude”, and even claimed that the main reason for its “enormous sales” were the “Tolkien cult” created by the popularity of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The School Library Journal called it “only a stillborn postscript” to Tolkien’s earlier works. Peter Conrad of the New Statesman even went so far as to say that “Tolkien can’t actually write.”

Putting the ridiculousness of “Tolkien can’t actually write” and “a stillborn postscript” aside, there is some truth to the difficulty of reading The Silmarillion. Tolkien scholar Tom Shippey remarks in The Road to Middle-Earth that “it could never be anything but hard to read.” It’s not hard in terms of diction or structure, but rather, as Christopher Tolkien explains in Part One of The Book of Lost Tales, because it “lacks mediation of the kind provided by the hobbits (so, in The Hobbit, ‘Bilbo acts as the link between modern times and the archaic world of dwarves and dragons’).”  The second reason is because it is not written as a novel. There is no main character in the foreground through which the story is relayed.

Prompted by the 118th anniversary of Tolkien’s birthday and the dawn of the New Year, it’s my intention over the next several weeks here at The Cimmerian to blog about The Silmarillion. I’m re-reading it in its entirety after the interval of several years and thought it would be enjoyable to write down my thoughts, impressions, and observations, and hopefully in the process make a small case for why it’s well-worth reading. I did something similar recently over at The Silver Key while re-reading The Lord of the Rings, and had a lot of fun with it. Please note that I am no self-appointed scholar or expert on Tolkien, just a fan. Writing about that which I read helps to further my own understanding and appreciation of the material.

(Continue reading this post)

First editions of The Lord of the Rings published in 1954 and 1955 by George Allen & Unwin.

On this weekend that we are honoring what would have been The Professor’s eleventy-eighth birthday I’m going to discuss Tolkien collectibles –a subject so vast that I will only be able explore it in the most general terms. From books to action figures to replica movie props to artwork, there are countless items of Tolkien-related memorabilia on the market. With such a vast array of choices there are interesting items available for collectors on any budget, from first editions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings that run tens of thousands of dollars to “Frodo Lives” buttons from the 1970’s that cost a few bucks.

There are a number of online references and resources for Tolkien collectors. One of the most useful is TolkienCollector.com which has page after page of useful information in numerous different categories, including a detailed description of the differences between the various editions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit-Movie.com site has a page dedicated specifically to collecting books and has a basic listing of prices.

(Continue reading this post)

A Whimsicality on a Whimsical Character

You’re from what newspaper? You want to write the story of my life? Oh.

No, no, it’s not a problem at all. Come in. Here let me take your coat. Go into the sitting room. There’s a fire going and it’s much warmer.

I have to admit that I’m a little surprised that you’re interested in me. I’m not as famous as some of the other characters my Creator brought to life. I admit that honestly. You wouldn’t know it to look at me today but there was a time I reached incredible heights. It seems like only yesterday that I was almost a legend; so I’m only too happy to relive those days. Sadly, there are many today who don’t know my rich history or how distinguished I was.

Just sit down over there. Yes, yes, clear off that chair. You can move those books and all that memorabilia over a little. No, not too close to the fire. Better put them on the mantle. I’ll pour you a cup of tea. It’ll fortify you against the snow and the bitter cold outside.

(Continue reading this post)

Two pieces of Hobbit-related news for your perusal: apparently, Something is Coming, and casting is underway… including a female role.

Unlike The Lord of the Rings, the dramatis personae of The Hobbit was pretty much of exclusively male composition. The film trilogy boosted the presence of Arwen to mixed reaction, and the roles of Galadriel and Éowyn were slightly expanded. It’s possible that this casting call could be for a minor role–perhaps as the voice actress of one of the many animals in the book, which could certainly be interpreted as female–but as the report mentions, such an early announcement indicates a featured role, rather than a lesser one.

(Continue reading this post)

Earlier this year, Leo Grin reported on the debut of The Hunt for Gollum, a fan film chronicling Aragorn’s search for the fallen hobbit during the Watchful Peace prior to the outbreak of war. It was well-received, and is probably one of the finer examples of fan cinema in terms of technical achievement. However, like Leo, I have to lament the fact that it wasn’t truly a Lord of the Rings adaptation, but a New Line Cinema Lord of the Rings fan film: the cinematography, costume, music and character design was exactly like in the films.

It’s really hard to criticize the Lord of the Rings film trilogy. The sheer amount of love, effort and perseverance which went into production from every member of the crew is breathtaking and infectious, practically unprecedented, and the sort of thing we rarely see in such a project. It undoubtedly led people to seek out more Tolkien to read, and though Jackson, Boyens & Walsh took some unfortunate, unnecessary and downright infuriating liberties with the script, they were certainly more respectful and appreciative of Tolkien than, say, Paul Verhoeven was with Robert A. Heinlein, whose first few chapters of the novel Starship Troopers left him “bored and depressed”–not that it would stop him from adapting it. Or John Milius was of Howard. I tend to swing between two extremes: on the one hand, great appreciation of the score, cinematography, creature design and environments; on the other, dislike of the additions and alterations of the script, plot and characters. When it reached the highs, it was stratospheric: when it plumbed the depths, it was subterranean.

(Continue reading this post)

According to Michael Moorcock, J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings has endured solely because it’s comfort food. So proclaimeth the author of the Elric stories in his seminal essay “Epic Pooh.”

Well, I’m here to knock a little stuffing out of his puffed-up essay.

“Epic Pooh” criticizes The Lord of the Rings on the weakness of its prose style. It also attacks Tolkien’s underlying themes and ideas. It accuses him of failing to challenge the reader and offering artificial happy endings instead. According to Moorcock Tolkien is guilty of glorifying warfare, of failing to question authority, and for ignoring the problem of death. He makes other spirited attacks of the work (and the author) as well.^[*]

The first argument is highly subjective, a matter of taste for which I have little argument. Moorcock is entitled to dislike Tolkien’s prose, and if he finds it too coddling, removed, or just plain sub-par, that’s fine. I happen to enjoy it very much, but different strokes for different folks and all that.

But once you get past its criticisms of style, “Epic Pooh” fails rather epically as a critique of Tolkien’s themes. Let me explain.

(Continue reading this post)