There's nothing wrong in principle with writing a long book about a magical world that doesn't exist. Fantasy writers like JRR show us alternative worlds that, at their best, can make us see our own world afresh. That is what art is supposed to do, and that's why we love it.
Unfortunately, since I've been old enough to drive I've found it hard to get a lot of value out of Middle Earth. When I was ten I thought the elves were way cool. It was nice to know that there were genuinely good folks around. Now I want to know what makes them so good. Apparently, they just are. What if you, dear reader, happened to be born an orc? What would you have to do to be accepted in polite society? How would you get on at dinner parties? Could you and I be friends? I don't think so. Orcs aren't like real-estate agents or Frenchmen, essentially well-meaning people whose deeds may be worse than their hearts. Orcs are bad twenty-four seven. It's what they do. Needless to say, there'll be no Marshall Plan for Mordor after the War of the Ring. Mordor was never the land of Bach and Beethoven, a cradle of learning and civilization that just happened to be tragically seduced by megalomaniac twerp. Nope, Mordor is bad through-and-through. There's no point in nurturing democracy or a post-War economic miracle. It'd be a waste of time. Me, I find a world of Goethe-reading concentration-camp guards vastly more terrifying - and way more interesting - than a world threatened by nasty orcs and ring-wraiths.
What about our heroes? Frodo and Sam are hobbits. They are homely by instinct and like food and drink, but they prove hardy and brave on adventures. Gimli is a dwarf. He is gruff but lovable, and likes caves and stonework. Legolas is an elf. He is beautiful and good, and likes trees. Aragorn is the heir of Isildur. He is grim and noble, but kindly. And so on. That's all you need to know about these guys, and that's all you're going to find out. The narrative seems to come down to will-they-or-won't-they. If they don't, that's bad news for Middle Earth. But it's not clear what's at stake for the rest of us.
What about the writing? Don't get me wrong, no one likes a good epic or heroic narrative more than me, and if that means archaizing language, so be it. But it's hard not to giggle when the characters start to get their word order mixed up or use words like `fell' and `fain' and `ere'. Maybe if the diction were consistent it would sound less silly, but the register often changes without warning from Quite Sensible (when plebeian races like hobbits are talking) to Frightfully Lofty (usually when important and powerful folks are talking with each other). Somewhere in the vast appendices at the end Tolkien claims he's faithfully representing the changes in register and formality that occur in Middle Earth languages. I guess that's OK, but it still sounds silly. All the more so when the narrator himself unaccountably parrots the ham-fisted diction of his characters. (`And she answered as one that likes not what is said.')
I hesitate to diss the great man for two reasons. First, Tolkien-bashing is a favourite sport of black-skivvy-wearing literary hipsters. It's a way of showing you belong with other arty nobbers, and it's annoying. Second, there's no denying the man's achievement. To create a world as vast and coherent as Middle Earth virtually ex nihilo is a spectacular feat of the imagination. The sense of wonder that Middle Earth, with its magicky atmosphere and breathtaking landscapes, inspired in me as a kid has never quite left me. These days I find it all rather dull and long-winded, but if you find yourself as captivated as I used to be, then good luck to you. Happy reading.
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