One of my top ten favorite books
is Tom Shippey’s J.R.R. Tolkien, Author of the Century. As I have
mentioned elsewhere, Shippey followed in Tolkien’s footsteps in academia,
teaching not only the same subjects, but also occupying the same positions. If
you enjoy Tolkien, are a writer, are interested in storytelling, or love
language, I encourage you to order this book, finish what you’re reading while
it’s in the mail, and set aside an afternoon or weekend to read this book when
it arrives.
Shippey is so thorough and
organized that I cannot presume to review his book in anyway other than to
follow the outline he himself used to plan it.
Shippey begins with a foreword. For
all you impatient barbarians like myself who like to skip the foreword to get
to the action, don’t. It’s good. Really. In the foreword, Shippey begins by
establishing his claim that Tolkien is in fact, The Author of the Century. He
examines the impact that fantasy has had on the twentieth century, particularly
from the pens of what he calls “traumatized authors”, that is authors who were impacted
by the World Wars and the surrounding violence of the Twentieth Century in a deeply
personal way. Speaking of Tolkien in the
company of Orwell, Golding, and Vonnegut, Shippey writes
“Those authors of the twentieth century
who have spoken most powerfully to and for their contemporaries have for some
reason found it necessary to use the metaphoric mode of fantasy, to write about
worlds and creatures which we know do not exist…”
Shippey goes on to defend fantasy
as not only a valid literary genre, but as a valuable tool that Twentieth
Century writers used to communicate about and come to grips with the world they
saw around them.
In the first of the books six
chapters, Shippey explores The Hobbit. He looks at the beginnings of
Tolkien’s use of words and names as suggestions of stories, for Tolkien did not
merely translate or gloss over the materials he read. He studied them,
contemplated them, and tried to make sense of them. Why, for instance, is the
name ‘Gandalf’ in a list of dwarf names? The second part of the name means ‘elf’,
the first could mean ‘staff’. So, what was a ‘staff-elf’, and what was he doing
with a bunch of dwarves?
Shippey looks at how questions
like this helped to shape many of Tolkien’s inventions as he attempted to
harmonize the old stories. However, Shippey points out that Tolkien was not
merely intent on harmonizing the old stories with each other, but with today. Bilbo,
living in a shire with grocers and butchers and regular mail, moves in a very
different world than Thorin and the dwarves who live in the mountains, are
never without weapons, and speak of revenge upon an ancient dragon, and Shippey
shows how, though both speak different words and at times focus on different
things, they are surprisingly similar.
Shippey’s second chapter focuses on
the way Tolkien took inspiration from old stories and poems as he mapped out a
plot for LOTR. The best section in the chapter, and the one that taught me most
about writing, is fourteen pages on The Council of Elrond. Shippey breaks down
the turning point of the series, when it completes its transformation from a childhood
lark akin to The Hobbit to a heroic epic. “The chapter…breaks…most of
the rules which might be given to an apprentice writer” Shippey writes, “…though
it is fifteen thousand words long, in it nothing happens: it consists entirely
of people talking…it has an unusual number of speakers present (twelve) the
majority of them (seven) unknown to the reader and appearing for the first
time. Just to make things more difficult, the longest speech, which takes up
close on half the total, contains direct quotation from seven more speakers, or
writers, all of them apart from Butterbur and Gaffer Gamgee new to the story,
and some of them (Saruman, Denethor) to be extremely important to it later on.”
The Council of Elrond is a committee meeting, and it could easily have become
one of the most boring sections in modern literature. Shippey examines, in
detail, how Tolkien uses narrative structure and linguistic trends to keep interest
and show story. The jockeying between Boromir and Aragorn for example lays the groundwork
for the end of the book and the end of the series, while Gloin speaks in very
different ways from Gandalf, who speaks differently from Boromir.
Shippey’s explanation of how
these verbal cues work and how Tolkien uses them is fascinating and
demonstrates one of Shippey’s great strength: He is so knowledgeable and enthusiastic
about his craft that his writing is enjoyable and instructive. Like the committee
meeting it dissects, this chapter could easily devolve into a dry dissection of
syntax and word order, but Shippey’s explanations of what is communicated and
how that occurs makes this easily one of the most important passage in my
writing development.
In chapters 3 & 4, ‘Concepts
of Evil’ and ‘The Mythic Dimension’, Shippey examines how Tolkien built the
themes of heroism and despair, good and evil, and wisdom and rationalism into
his story. The wonderful thing about these chapters is that it is not just an
exploration of Tolkien’s writing, but an exploration of what lay behind what
Tolkien wrote and how it influenced him. From the pacifism of T.H. White during
World War II to the conflicts between Boethian and Manichean explanations of
evil and how they shaped Tolkien’s conception of the ring wraiths. The holistic
approach is highly instructive and shines a light on just how much detail and
study Tolkien had gathered over his life time.
In Chapter 5, Shippey seeks to
provide something of a guide to reading The Silmarillion, and if you
have ever attempted the Silmarillion and been lost among the names and
histories, this is the section for you. Any one of the stories contained within
the epic are worthy of great praise, from Turin’s battle with fate, to Gondolin’s
desperate search for security, to the valiant love story of Beren and Luthien
each one tells tales of the struggles and trials mankind has endured and caused
since the first stories were told. The way in which Tolkien brings them
together, each enlightening and building on the others, is truly astounding and
worthy of greater recognition. Shippey helps clear some of the fog that the
vastness creates, and explores how Tolkien used his epic work to provide
narrative depth to his works.
The explanation of narrative
depth was exceedingly instructive for me as I tried to develop my own writing.
A story that shows only those people and places who play a main role can seem
shallow, or two dimensional. Tolkien’s constant use of names, asides, and
casual references serves to create in the reader the impression that they are
passing through a small part of a wide, wide world rather than a narrow path
lined with card board cutouts. In Middle Earth, there is always another story
beyond that forest, under those mountains, or across that river.
In Chapter 6, Shippey explores
Tolkien’s shorter works; Leaf by Niggle, Farmer Giles of Ham, and Smith
of Wootan Major. Shippey’s commentary on these works is made all the more
valuable by the shared knowledge that he has with Tolkien. Since they taught
many of the same works and served in many of the same university departments,
Shippey understands not only many of the ancient references but also many of
the private jokes that Tolkien included in his shorter works. Farmer Giles
of Ham was written shortly after Tolkien completed The Lord of the Rings,
and is a light-hearted tale. In contrast, Leaf by Niggle and The
Smith of Wootan Major were written towards the end of his life. Leaf
is in many ways a self-critique, and an expression of Tolkien’s misgivings
about how much he had accomplished through his life. The Smith is, to
me, one of the saddest stories I have ever read, for given the time of its
composition, it seems almost to be Tolkien’s farewell to Faerie Land and the
stories in which he had spent so much of his life. Shippey’s explanation and
excavation of these stories adds so much to their reading, for Tolkien filled
them with asides and references to old stories, tiny translation problems with
ancient texts, and private jokes that few of us have found the time or
expertise to discover.
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The Afterward, (yes, you should
read that too), is a final conclusion to many of Shippey’s arguments about
Tolkien’s relevance as an author, his skill as an author, and his wisdom as a
professor. In doing so he attempts to answer many of the criticisms of Tolkien
from his more eloquent critics, and in the process, demonstrates that the point
of contention comes less from their objection to The Lord of The Rings.
Rather, much of the distaste stems from a deep disagreement about the fundamental
truths that underpin Tolkien’s writings. Professors and critics who have spent
their lives preaching pacifism, denying the existence of real evil, and ‘seeing
through’ any reasons for hope find Tolkien’s work in violation of everything
they have fought against and thus must denounce it. Shippey finishes with a brief
look at the impact Professor Tolkien has had on his successors in fantasy, and
imagines how the pipe wielding philologist might smile at what he started.
You can find Shippey's book here on Amazon. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
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