At this point, is it even possible to say anything original about a book that has been enjoyed by so many millions for decades? A book with heaven knows how many reprints and translations, adaptations, video and tabletop games? A book that has inspired countless pieces of art, fan fiction and role-playing adventures, not to mention effectively kicking off the modern high fantasy genre and establishing the archetypes of many flora and fauna of the modern fantasy setting?
Probably not.
So, instead, I’ll grace the internet with any new reactions I had on this reread. As a result, this will not be a book review, and will probably make zero sense and be of zero interest to anybody who hasn’t read the book themselves. For you people, take a look at the loaf of bread I baked yesterday.
For everyone else, I’ll start with with two opening statements.
Firstly, let it be known that The Lord of the Rings, in my opinion, is the greatest piece of literary work ever to have been written and the Fellowship of the Ring is my favourite of the three. I’ve revisited this book five or six times and it gets better with every reread. By my standards, five rereads is a lot. By the standards of true Tolkien buffs, I’m more ignorant than a cave troll. So if any of these opinions offend you, just know they’re coming from a fellow fan and, no, I don’t think I could write anything better. Please don’t send the Nazgul round.
Secondly, I put it to you, reader, that my copy of Fellowship is the most delicious piece of literary work ever published, after being carried around Epsom Common for an afternoon in a rucksack with a leaky tin of chilli olives. The delightfully fragrant smell was the only thing getting me through chapter seven, to be honest.
Finally. Spoiler warning. Probably.
Let’s go.
Tom bloody Bombadil
Sweet mother of Galadriel. Tom is a pain in the arse. If I worked with Tom in the office, his toxic positivity would guarantee me sitting as far away as possible. Even if it meant sitting near the printers and being shoved into every five seconds.
Not only is his dialogue irritating, but he adds zero substance to progress the plot. He seemingly gets introduced in the Old Forest purely to save the hobbits from a disgruntled tree, only to say hey, if you need help again let me know. One chapter later, the hobbits immediately find themselves in a convenient pickle and Tom’s like oh, good job I was nearby to help you, eh? Anyway, I’m afraid I can’t help ever again. Enjoy the rest of the books!
His inclusion seems to grate against Tolkien’s writing superpowers. Tolkien is a wizard at making fleeting references to things in Middle Earth and letting our imaginations do the rest. Or at least setting something up earlier to become significant later in the plot. Tom’s presence does neither of these. He appears, he helps, he leaves.
And, he undermines the significance of the ring by being completely unaffected.
My opinion on Tom was never warm, but with each reread, he goes further down the Christmas card list.
And the songs.
Oh my goodness, the songs.
This deserves it’s own section.
The songs
The best thing about rereading the books is that I can skip over the songs without feeling guilty. These belong in the appendices, not front and centre. The odd couplet within the prose is fine, but some songs can be measured in pages, and sometimes appear at the worst possible time in the story.
I’m going to mention pacing separately next, but the songs are a good example of how Tolkien’s pacing is problematic throughout the book.
Take the scene at the Prancing Pony in chapter nine, for example. We’ve just met the mysterious Strider and the tension is building as Frodo realises his pissed up hobbit mates are oversharing. He needs to think fast, keep his identity and mission a secret, and remove himself from the situation as quickly as possible. What does he do? He breaks into two pages of song, completely killing the pace and the tension.
This happens again a few chapters later. I’m not a natural-born ranger, but if I was Strider at the moment Sam busts out eight verses in the woods while being stalked by the undead, I’d have hit him with a big stick.
The pacing
You could argue it’s naïve to judge a book written more than seventy years ago by modern storytelling standards. But I have opinions, this is the internet and comments are turned off, so here goes.
If Fellowship was written today, the editor would surely go back and say no, no, no, fix the pacing. Some scenes are packed and need slowing down a bit, others thin (like butter scraped over too much bread). The passage of time in general is a bit wonky, in my opinion. Then there are those instances, like the songs, that seem plonked in right when the story is building to something bigger.
Should it take seventeen years from Bilbo’s birthday to Frodo leaving the Shire, and then the other two and a half books covering about six months?
Should I be reading for nearly an hour to say goodbye to Galadriel?
Equally, I would give my right arm to flesh out more from the Moria chapters. Think of all the unexplored caverns and rooms the Fellowship could have discovered, each one uncovering another piece or lore from a time otherwise forgotten. And let’s be honest, it’s the lore that brings you in.
The Council of Elrond
It’s all been a bit negative so far, hasn’t it? You wouldn’t think Fellowship was, once again, an absolute pleasure to read based on what I’ve written to this point. I suppose it’s easier to criticise something you love than compliment something you hate. In any case, let’s change the tone for a moment.
The Council of Elrond is my favourite chapter. I didn’t have a favourite until this reread – now I do.
You know that stereotypical scene from a classic murder mystery? The one where they’re all gathered in the drawing room while the lead protagonist reels off paragraphs of exposition before the big ah ha moment? This is that scene for me.
This chapter pulls together all the threads of history from various perspectives into one complete narrative, it reveals to us the significance of the ring and establishes the severity of the peril that lies ahead. It’s the defining chapter of the story, and every time I read it I feel like it’s the first time.
The adventure really starts here, which is an odd thing to say considering we’re more than halfway through the book at this point, but I’ve already written enough about pacing.
The idioms and phrases of Middle Earth
I paid more attention to the idioms and phrases the characters would come up with on this reading. I’m currently creating a character for The One Ring RPG, and I want to mimic some of the language used in Tolkien’s book, just for the pleasure of it.
I’ll probably write something separate on these, but here are some of my favourite examples so far:
Positive(ish)
Sworn word may strengthen quaking heart. (Gimli)
Deep roots are not reached by the frost. (Bilbo)
Neutral
When heads are at a loss, bodies must serve (Boromir)
The wolf that one hears is worse than the orc that one fears (Boromir)
Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger. (Gildor)
Short cuts make long delays. (Pippin)
Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall. (Elrond)
Let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming. (Legolas)
One must tread the path that need chooses. (Gandalf)
It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish. (Sam)
Negative
- Well, if this isn’t a plague and a nuisance (Pippin)
- It never rains but it pours. (Butterbur)
- Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens. (Gimli)
- I feel as though I was caught between a hammer and an anvil (Frodo)
The bridge of Khazad Dum
Only on this read did I fully empathise with people reading this for the first time 50 years ago, with only the Hobbit as previous reference material. Gandalf!
The absolute cornerstone of the story (and the Hobbit) popping his clogs in an instant must have been so heartwrenching.
Economics and logistics of Middle Earth
I bet that headline wasn’t on your bingo card.
I know I’m not the only one who goes on thought tangents reading Lord of the Rings, given the number of questions I see answered on In Deep Geek. That’s what’s so great about about Tolkien’s work; the way he eludes to things outside the main story and paints such a vivid picture of a living world beyond.
I spent more time than is healthy thinking about economics and logistics. Here’s one thread I went down.
One. The elves eat bread, right? We know at least of Lembas. So that must mean they grow some form of crop. If you’re an elf, how do you grow crops? The elves of Mirkwood and Lorien live forests; the elves of Rivendell live in a mountain gorge. Neither of those biomes facilitate effective agriculture.
Also, the elves are meant to be discreet and hidden from the enemy. The idea that their settlements would be surrounded by acres of farmland to sustain the population might be a dead giveaway, no?
And if the forest elves do farm, are they land clearing? That doesn’t seem very elf-like.
Ok, so maybe they trade for it. What would they trade for it? And with who? And surely that can’t be ideal for national food security. The head of the elvish Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs must live a life of constant anxiety if he’s entirely dependant on trade for food.
And wham, just like that, it’s three days later and you haven’t shaved, eaten or stood up.
The hobbits are gormless
The fate of Middle Earth rests on the shoulders of these halflings, and yet it’s a miracle they made it more than ten yards. A few feats of gormlessness they managed to achieve in book one alone:
- They get imprisoned by an immobile tree.
- They fall asleep and get captured by barrow wights (OK, a bit of this is on Tom, you’d think he’d maybe warn them about the spell of deep sleep in the unnatural fog).
- Pippin throws a stone down a well, seemingly out of simple curiosity, alerting orcs and ultimately getting the guide killed.
- When Frodo and Sam realise they’re being stalked by Gollum, they decide ‘No need to trouble Strider’ is the best course of action. Really, guys?
Final comment
Despite all my criticisms, I cannot wait to start reading this again. It’s just gets better every time.
Except Tom, obviously.
