Arrogant critics?

Except elves, who just go away to somewhere else...

Right. So I think a lot of Tolkien's nostalgia appears similar to the conservative appeal to a golden time of rural England -- a pig for every peasant, rosy-cheeked apples playing on the green, all that stuff. You don't have to read it that way (and I don't normally) but I think it's a viable criticism.

Often people may regard that sort of nostalgia with suspicion, for obvious historical reasons. It's depressing, quite apart from anything else, to think that now we live in cities we've lost our chance at happiness. That isn't, again, to say that Tolkien deserves such criticism, but is to move such critiques beyond the simplicity of a focus on race, sex and class. I think there are lots of ways to address Tolkien without simply seeing him through a veil of prejudice. He may simply not be your cup of tea. I don't understand that, but I'm prepared to admit it's up to you :)
 
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True, but we don't see where they go. They and their works fade as far as Middle Earth (us) is concerned.
 
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Venusian Broon said:
Walter Scott strode the start of the 19th century as a literary colossus who influenced practically every writer after him. ....They probably would be shocked at how marginalised and mostly forgotten he is today.
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Yes, and shouldn't that call into question the opinions and procedures that drive literary studies and literary fashion-making today? Of course it doesn't because so many such people belong (or aspire to belong) to terribly conformist literature departments or communications media, etc.

I've actually read Scott a bit. I don't think Ivanhoe, the one with which people are somewhat acquainted, is Scott at his very best; not his English medieval novels so much, but rather you want to read his novels of the relatively recent Scottish past, such as Waverley, Old Mortality, The Heart of Midlothian, etc. and novels such as The Bride of Lammermoor. Btw it seems to be a good idea to start with Chapter 2. He does get off to a leisurely start, and of course we are in a hurry to get to the next thing whatever we are doing (which is one of the interesting things about our habits of sloth)....

You also have to come to grips with his use of dialect. For people raised on sight-reading methods this may be the killer. if you were taught to read by phonics you may have a better chance of grappling successfully with the dialect and even coming to see how good it can be (e.g. the old butler in The Bride of Lammermoor). I suppose it was Scott who helped a century of writers to see the literary possibilities of the use of dialect, so important even a century or so later in something like Kipling's superb story "The Wish-House."
 
Very well said ExT, modern mind control wants to go back and fix the past up with erzatz ketchup.*
 
I guess it isnt that different to writing history books so the show a nice rosy glow to the current state/system, so it doesnt surprise me. It does sadden me though.
 
Venusian Broon said:
Sorry Baylor - the future is a distant country - I'd hate to hazard a guess as to what is remembered well.

Walter Scott strode the start of the 19th century as a literary colossus who influenced practically every writer after him. They were so enamoured of him look at the massive pile of gothic stones that they built to commemorate his death: Scott Monument - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

They probably would be shocked at how marginalised and mostly forgotten he is today. Today we choose to remember different authors of the time.

Such fading could easily happen to Tolkien, who had nowhere near the same influence as Scott on literature.
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Ivanhoe and Rob Roy still seem to have some popularity even today.:)
 
Hex said:
That isn't, again, to say that Tolkien deserves such criticism, but is to move such critiques beyond the simplicity of a focus on race, sex and class. I think there are lots of ways to address Tolkien without simply seeing him through a veil of prejudice. He may simply not be your cup of tea.
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Quite. It is entirely possible to dislike Tolkien, even strongly, without being some sort of churlish ignoramus or PC nutcase. If someone told me that Tom Bombadil was irritating or that the book was full of unnecessary songs that slowed the story down - and intelligent people have told me both - I would regard those as totally valid criticisms (and neither is a "diversity" argument). Personally, I don't think Tolkien's prose is in itself that great. There were better prose stylists working at the time, some of them in SFF. I can't prove that.

I end up thinking the same thing about a lot of these sorts of discussions. A valid opinion, honestly held and reasonably argued, is almost impossible to argue against. Critic X says that Song A is beautiful etc. Critic Y says that Song A slows down the pace and draws unnecessary attention to the author. They're both arguable. Take your pick.
 
It's amazing that critics we disagree with are always arrogant, churlish, and uninformed... yet critics we agree with are always smart, well-read, articulate, and have a valid argument. Even when it's the same critic.
 
This debate over the validity of critical judgement is certainly not a new one. From Thomas Love Peacock's Headlong Hall (1815), a gathering of poets and literary critics remonstrate with Mr Escot, the deteriorationist, at the table of Squire Headlong:
Headlong Hall said:
Mr Escot. Unluckily for the rest of your argument, the understanding of literary people is for the most part exalted, as you express it, not so much by the love of truth and virtue, as by arrogance and self-sufficiency; and there is, perhaps, less disinterestedness, less liberality, less general benevolence, and more envy, hatred, and uncharitableness among them, than among any other description of men.

(The eye of Mr Escot, as he pronounced these words, rested very innocently and unintentionally on Mr Gall.)

Mr Gall. You allude, sir, I presume, to my review.

Mr Escot. Pardon me, sir. You will be convinced it is impossible I can allude to your review, when I assure you that I have never read a single page of it.

Mr Gall, Mr Treacle, Mr Nightshade, and Mr Mac Laurel. Never read our review! ! ! !

Mr Escot. Never. I look on periodical criticism in general to be a species of shop, where panegyric and defamation are sold, wholesale, retail, and for exportation. I am not inclined to be a purchaser of these commodities, or to encourage a trade which I consider pregnant with mischief.

Mr Mac Laurel. I can readily conceive, sir, ye wou'd na wullingly encoorage ony dealer in panegeeric: but, frae the manner in which ye speak o' the first creetics an' scholars o' the age, I shou'd think ye wou'd hae a leetle mair predilaction for deefamation.

Mr Escot. I have no predilection, sir, for defamation. I make a point of speaking the truth on all occasions; and it seldom happens that the truth can be spoken without some stricken deer pronouncing it a libel.

Mr Nightshade. You are perhaps, sir, an enemy to literature in general?

Mr Escot. If I were, sir, I should be a better friend to periodical critics.

Squire Headlong. Buz!

Mr Treacle. May I simply take the liberty to inquire into the basis of your objection?

Mr Escot. I conceive that periodical criticism disseminates superficial knowledge, and its perpetual adjunct, vanity; that it checks in the youthful mind the habit of thinking for itself; that it delivers partial opinions, and thereby misleads the judgment; that it is never conducted with a view to the general interests of literature, but to serve the interested ends of individuals, and the miserable purposes of party.

Mr Mac Laurel. Ye ken, sir, a mon mun leeve.

Mr Escot. While he can live honourably, naturally, justly, certainly: no longer.

Mr Mac Laurel. Every mon, sir, leeves according to his ain notions of honour an' justice: there is a wee defference amang the learned wi' respact to the defineetion o' the terms.

Mr Escot. I believe it is generally admitted that one of the ingredients of justice is disinterestedness.

Mr Mac Laurel. It is na admetted, sir, amang the pheelosophers of Edinbroo', that there is ony sic thing as desenterestedness in the warld, or that a mon can care for onything sae much as his ain sel: for ye mun observe, sir, every mon has his ain parteecular feelings of what is gude, an' beautifu', an' consentaneous to his ain indiveedual nature, an' desires to see every thing aboot him in that parteecular state which is maist conformable to his ain notions o' the moral an' poleetical fetness o' things. Twa men, sir, shall purchase a piece o' grund atween 'em, and ae mon shall cover his half wi' a park——

Mr Milestone. Beautifully laid out in lawns and clumps, with a belt of trees at the circumference, and an artificial lake in the centre.

Mr Mac Laurel. Exactly, sir: an' shall keep it a' for his ain sel: an' the other mon shall divide his half into leetle farms of twa or three acres——

Mr Escot. Like those of the Roman republic, and build a cottage on each of them, and cover his land with a simple, innocent, and smiling population, who shall owe, not only their happiness, but their existence, to his benevolence.

Mr Mac Laurel. Exactly, sir: an' ye will ca' the first mon selfish, an' the second desenterested; but the pheelosophical truth is semply this, that the ane is pleased wi' looking at trees, an' the other wi' seeing people happy an' comfortable. It is aunly a matter of indiveedual feeling. A paisant saves a mon's life for the same reason that a hero or a footpad cuts his thrapple: an' a pheelosopher delevers a mon frae a preson, for the same reason that a tailor or a prime meenester puts him into it: because it is conformable to his ain parteecular feelings o' the moral an' poleetical fetness o' things.

Squire Headlong. Wake the Reverend Doctor. Doctor, the bottle stands with you.

The Reverend Doctor Gaster. It is an error of which I am seldom guilty.

Mr Mac Laurel. Noo, ye ken, sir, every mon is the centre of his ain system, an' endaivours as much as possible to adapt every thing aroond him to his ain parteecular views.

Mr Escot. Thus, sir, I presume, it suits the particular views of a poet, at one time to take the part of the people against their oppressors, and at another, to take the part of the oppressors, against the people.

Mr Mac Laurel. Ye mun alloo, sir, that poetry is a sort of ware or commodity, that is brought into the public market wi' a' other descreptions of merchandise, an' that a mon is pairfectly justified in getting the best price he can for his article. Noo, there are three reasons for taking the part o' the people; the first is, when general leeberty an' public happiness are conformable to your ain parteecular feelings o' the moral an' poleetical fetness o' things: the second is, when they happen to be, as it were, in a state of exceetabeelity, an' ye think ye can get a gude price for your commodity, by flingin' in a leetle seasoning o' pheelanthropy an' republican speerit; the third is, when ye think ye can bully the menestry into gieing ye a place or a pansion to hau'd your din, an' in that case, ye point an attack against them within the pale o' the law; an' if they tak nae heed o' ye, ye open a stronger fire; an' the less heed they tak, the mair ye bawl; an' the mair factious ye grow, always within the pale o' the law, till they send a plenipotentiary to treat wi' ye for yoursel, an' then the mair popular ye happen to be, the better price ye fetch.
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Tolkien put so much love and detail and depth into works , he cared deeply about the shire , Middle Earth and pre worlds of the Silmarillion and all the larger then life characters that he imagined . He made us care about them as much as he did. This is why great. :)
 
Toby Frost said:
I don't think Tolkien's prose is in itself that great. There were better prose stylists working at the time, some of them in SFF.
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[Addendum sent about 25 minutes after the below was sent: Toby, I start by responding to your comment, but by the end of the message am thinking of hostile remarks made by others and not of your comment.]

Not sure what "in itself" means in this context. Tolkien's prose has been criticized, perhaps especially by writers for newspapers, but also has been highly esteemed by critics, prose writers, and poets, who regard him as resourcefully deploying a variety of styles according to the occasion -- merry, eerie, grave, etc. I suppose Ursula Le Guin may be as good a "stylist" as we have had in the past 50 years, and certainly she's on record ("From Elfland to Poughkeepsie") with praise for Tolkien's prose.

It's true that young readers as well as older ones can read it with much enjoyment, which probably could not be said of some authors who are noted for their styles. I do think Tolkien wanted to be accessible to young readers, such as my 11-year-old self.

I won't insist that Tolkien's writing is literally flawless, but I would invite anyone, the next time he or she reads LotR, to ask, if a passage comes up that seems unsuccessful to him or her, why Tolkien might have written thus. I suspect that, especially if the reader is acquainted with the British literary heritage, it may be found that Tolkien is more skillful than might have seemed to be the case. For example, some readers have objected to the comedy of the first chapter, with Bilbo's after-dinner speech and all. It has seemed to them mere self-indulgence on the author's part. But it is dramatically justifiable. It helps us to understand how Bilbo could have possessed the Ring for all these years without becoming possessed by it; he lives in a decent community in which people manage their "antisocial" feelings (such as envy) within unwritten bounds (certainly there are no State counselors to coach them), he himself doesn't aspire to use other people, and so on. More could be said about what is implied about the Shire and Bilbo but I'll leave it at that. The other thing to notice about the chapter is that it is in a literary line going back to Dickens's Pickwick Papers; take a look at how that book starts and compare it with this chapter of Tolkien. All right, someone might say: I checked and I grant that; but so what? Well, this helps us to see something of what I suppose some would call a "meta-narrative" in Tolkien's book, that it is not only a quest adventure but is also a work "about" British literature, an organic whole that yet draws upon things as disparate as the Victorian novel and medieval wisdom literature. It is this in large part because it is an expression of love, love for normal, "everyday" life, which in our time makes some people uncomfortable; they seem to prefer "rage" (directed at standard targets), or "edgy" works focusing on the bizarre (e.g. ingenious acts of violence, cf. William Burroughs), and so on. I suspect that in some cases they don't like Tolkien because he loves things that they have not experienced or not much, and they resent that. But it's not Tolkien's fault if someone has no trusted friends, or can't go for a walk in the woods, or has never had a worthy teacher, etc.
 
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In random fragments of thought: Pickwick Papers is the one Dickens I just cannot read -- it's so dull. I do, though, like Bilbo's wedding speech. Quite often when I re-read LOTR, I skip the Tom Bombadil section. Maybe I'd like it more now I'm older, but when I was a kid the only interesting bits about it were Old Man Willow and then the barrow wights.

I do, though, wonder if it's fair to assume that because someone doesn't enjoy reading about hobbits walking in the woods, you can necessarily accuse them of not having had those experiences themselves. Perhaps it's the opposite way round and people whose lives are full of trusted friends and worthy teachers aren't very interested in reading about them? And to be fair, reading about love is worthy but not all that exciting (at least, love as shown in the Shire -- Sam's love for Frodo is very different).
 
Generally speaking, I have problems with the argument that to truly “get” an author’s decisions you have get his references or antecedents beyond what the average reader would know, just because it’s such a good way of getting the author out of criticism. I’m reminded of a hardcore Tolkien fan I used to know who answered any criticism with “Ah, but if you’d read the Silmarillion, you’d see that…” My own feeling is that a book should work best on its own (perhaps there’s an exception for full-on parodies) and that the best books don’t require that kind of background knowledge to work. I also think that LOTR can’t be comprehensively defended by arguing that modern critics are either mean-minded, joyless people incapable of understanding positive emotion or else obsessed trying to pin claims of racism on the author. There are people like that, for sure, and there is a certain sort of (to my mind pretty worthless) criticism based on that attitude*. But they aren’t the majority.

Some while ago, a passage was quoted in one of the Lovecraft threads from “The Call of Cthulhu” on the grounds that it was an exceptional piece of writing. The poster put up a very good argument, analysing the structure, choice of words, cumulative effect and so on. But at the end of the day, to me the passage was very purple, and no analysis, however correct, would rescue it because its spell was broken (or had never taken effect in the first place) because of that purpleness. My own feeling on LOTR – brace yourselves – is that the prose is not consistently good enough to be called “great” over the course of three long novels. I can think of almost no lines that you see quoted from LOTR (as opposed to impersonated from the films) that sum up a thought or hit the target precisely in the way that the prose in 1984 does (and some of 1984 is actually quite clunky, to my mind). Nor has any of the prose stayed with me in the same way as chunks of poetic description have from Titus Groan. But I can’t say that that opinion is “right” in the way that I can’t say that the analysis of the Lovecraft quote was “wrong”.



*Personally, if I was to play that game, I’d write a thesis claiming that Tolkien nursed a crazed hatred of Cockneys – hence the orks. But I doubt anyone gets worked up enough about Cockney rights to care very much.
 
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Hex said:
In random fragments of thought: Pickwick Papers is the one Dickens I just cannot read -- it's so dull. I do, though, like Bilbo's wedding speech. Quite often when I re-read LOTR, I skip the Tom Bombadil section. Maybe I'd like it more now I'm older, but when I was a kid the only interesting bits about it were Old Man Willow and then the barrow wights.
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Oddly enough, this (TB) was the section I found myself reading particularly attentively recently. It's a maze of nature references and such...
 
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