Well, here goes:
Ok, this urban vs. rural issue is quite interesting and I'll try to write a separate post about it, if you're interested.
It's not so much a question of whether I'm interested or not, but rather one of time. I'd be interested in joining such a discussion, but I'm not sure how much time I'll be able to devote to it and that, of course, decides the quality of my posted arguments.
As for Moorcock, I have a feeling that even if he read LOTR he didn't read it carefully, didn't try to understand it and analyze it as it is but instead applied his own ideas about what in his opinion is wrong with fantasy (and some other books he disliked). He dislikes nostalgia but doesn't notice optimism. Or maybe he does and think it's too cozy - a bit contradictory, is it?
What Moorcock seems to be objecting to is a false or forced optimism based on a return to an idealized past which, in reality, never existed. It's a somewhat naïve view of the past shared by many such retrospective writers (Morris -- as mentioned by Moorcock; Machen; Lovecraft -- yes, I know, I'm a big fan of HPL, but this sort of thing showed his own refusal to acknowledge, in his fiction and, to be honest, many of his letters, what the past was truly like; Buchan; etc., etc., etc.) This -- and the point about Tolkien's anti-urban stance -- are stated quite succinctly by John Clute in his "The Repossession of Jerry Cornelius":
Sf, which is the least urban of genres, likes to tell us how to live in the Wild West in case the need arises, and loves to show us how to hate Utopian city-states constructed by Utopian city-haters who live in suburbs behind hedges.
What I'd say Moorcock objects to in Tolkien is that sort of stance; which explains why it is that
LotR is "deeply conservative": for all that it is purportedly about change, what you really have is the
reestablishment of a traditional form of government, one which is bound to ideals of a mediaeval (feudal) or at best a late monarchical kind, rather than one which represents a liberal democratic principle wherein the people have more than a nominal voice. The optimism may be there, but it once again resides in having the people's "betters" decide what is best for them, rather than in the people themselves being presented as adults who can deliberate and act concerning such issues themselves.
I suppose Moorcock doesn't realize that Tolkien's goal was to create mythology for England (together with languages and history). And any mythology deals with the past and has legends of the Golden age of men, a time of learning, peace and prosperity that was lost to the humankind later. So yes, there's always a sense of longing for that golden age.
This is what I was referring to, in part, with my statement about Tolkien being a "lapsarian" writer. I'd say this is very heavily influenced by his religious views as well; but essentially, religious or not, he was a deeply conservative man in many ways (his views concerning Catholicism vs. the Anglican church being a very good example). This sort of mythology, at its heart, presents humanity as corrupt, debased, "fallen" from grace, etc.; which, as Moorcock notes, is at base thorougly misanthropic, even anti-human (and certainly anti-humanist) view -- hence his complaints about the hypocrisy inherent in such. Romanticism celebrated humanity and its potential; it was deeply humanistic in its approach, hence his comments about
LotR being, essentially, an "anti-Romance".
As for Tolkien creating a "mythology for England" -- Moorcock, I am sure, was quite aware of that aspect of it. As noted, he knew Tolkien (and Lewis, for the matter of that), and in fact liked them personally -- it was their writing and their politics and philosophies which he took issue with. Betwen that and the fact that this aspect of Tolkien's work has been bruited about for decades, and in all sorts of venues, it would be difficult for him not to know this -- especially given the fact he has been in debates with people about this issue since at least the 1970s....
On the other hand, myth also serves as a source of inspiration with valiant and noble deeds (and cautionary tales, too).
Interestingly, this is a point that Moorcock makes quite frequently himself in his fantasy: that while it might be best were we to be able to discard the "need" for myth altogether, it is unlikely we ever will; therefore, it is better to celebrate those myths and legends which evoke our noblest qualities, and to use them to create a world in which such qualities are, at least, more prevalent.
So nostalgia goes hand in hand with hope for the future, that things will get better and a new golden age will come (even if after the last big battle with evil).
Again, this is the rub: nostalgia and such hope are, in many ways, antithetical; for the hope that things will get better by returning to patterns of the past -- patterns which, after all, led to the very conditions creating the problems we (or the protagonists in the fiction) struggle with now -- is both naïve and, in the end, self-defeating. Hope, indeed, lies in learning from the lessons of the past and in creating new conditions celebrating
humanity (in the philosophical or ethical sense of the term) and our ability to build, create, and expand; not to withdraw into a nostalgic recapitulation in the mistaken impression that this is the way to a more humane, liberal future.
It's too bad Moorcock's own prejudices get in the way of enjoying Tolkien's great achievement. Or maybe he simply dislikes the writing style and tries to rationalize it.
That's a very debatable point, on different levels. One, as noted in my earlier post, is that his comments on Tolkien and his work vary depending on the context. Here, he is concerned with the political and philosophical (as well as literary) aspects of the novel; aspects he finds deeply suspect. In other contexts, such as
Fantasy: The 100 Best Books (written with James Cawthorne), his comments, while not uncritically admiring, are much more generous; and in an earlier mention (recently reprinted in the first of the Del Rey Elric volumes), he has considerable praise for LotR -- though he was a young man when this was written, and his political views were not quite so thoroughly thought-out then, or his statements might have been more reserved. And, to be honest, quite a few of fantasy's best writers of the period were not fans of Tolkien's work: Poul Anderson seemed to vacillate at times between admiration and reserve; Harlan Ellison, while recognizing the importance of the book in the field, nonetheless had serious problems with it; Fritz Leiber, while not expressing critical disdain for it, made it clear that it was certainly not to his taste; and so on.
I read both versions of the essays so they're a bit confused in my head now. I could give you more examples of factual errors, such as calling Sauron representation of Chaos (nothing can be further from the truth, he's in fact quite the opposite, the ultimate totalitarian and controlling regime).
Perhaps that is in the earlier version of the essay (as I said, the link isn't working for me, and I'd have to dig out my copy of Moorcock's
Wizardry and Wild Romance to take a look at that version of the essay); I certainly don't recall it being in this version. The closest I can see are:
If the Shire is a suburban garden, Sauron and his henchmen are that old bourgeois bugaboo, the Mob - mindless football supporters throwing their beer-bottles over the fence the worst aspects of modern urban society represented as the whole by a fearful, backward-yearning class for whom "good taste" is synonymous with "restraint" (pastel colours, murmured protest) and "civilized" behaviour means "conventional behaviour in all circumstances".
and
because Tolkien cannot really bring himself to get close to his proles and their satanic leaders
Hardly calling Sauron the representation of Chaos.
Speaking about death: again, miraculous resurrection and near-death experience is part of mythology (and religion), and it reinforces the idea that the end of the flesh is not the death of the spirit, that there's something else "beyond the circles of our world". Tolkien doesn't overuse it or break his own rules: Gandalf is of maiar and can be sent back (Sauron's physical body was destroyed at least twice) while Frodo is only given a brief respite and rest (much earned) but still dies like all other mortals.
According to Tolkien himself, the question of life and death is one the most important in literature. You don't have to agree with his ideas but you can't say he doesn't take death seriously.
That is what I was getting at when I said that such views may not ignore death, but they certainly belittle it; for they rob it of its greatest sting: its
permanence, and what that means in terms of being human. To ignore or, in Tolkien's case, to deny by such views as you present above, that aspect of it -- that fear of the dark associated with it not as a temporary thing, but as nonexistence, nonbeing -- cannot help but weaken the impact of death itself.
As for the comment about Frodo -- perhaps I'm just dense, but.. where do you get the idea of Frodo dying?
