My suspicion is that to really get the most out of LOTR, as with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, you either have to read it at a certain age or at a certain time. I have no real grudge against either, but I don't dig them the way some people do.
You did say "at a certain age or at a certain time" -- as for the latter factor, I suppose the reviewers I mentioned "had to" read
LotR at a time determined largely by their adult responsibilities and the deadline for their review.
But actually I don't entirely disagree with the comment.
It eventually reminded me of C. S. Lewis's remark about Spenser's
Faerie Queene:
"Beyond all doubt it is best to have made one's first acquaintance with Spenser in a very large -- and, preferably, illustrated -- edition of
The Faerie Queene, on a wet day, between the ages of twelve and sixteen, and if, even at that age, certain of the names aroused unidentified memories of some still earlier, some almost prehistoric, commerce with a selection of 'Stories from Spenser', heard before we could read, so much the better. [Those who have had this good fortune] will never have lost touch with the poet. His great book will have accompanied them year by year and grown up with them as books do; to the youthful appreciation of mere wonder-tale they will have added a critically sensuous enjoyment of the melodious stanza, to both these a historical understanding of its significance in English poetry as a whole, and an ever-increasing perception of its wisdom."
Those sentences fit my experience of
LotR, to which also (with
The Hobbit and
The Little Grey Men) I'm indebted for some of my boyhood development of attentiveness to nature.
Here's something I posted a couple of years ago for a different thread:
I think Tolkien scholar John Rateliff gets closer than just about anyone to a key element in Tolkien's way of writing. I quote from an essay by him in TOLKIEN STUDIES #6.
Rateliff:
first I want to draw attention to Tolkien’s own description of how his prose works, of what he was trying to achieve. In one of the endnotes appended to “On Fairy-stories,” he includes the following revealing passage setting forth his narrative method, in which he makes clear his goal of writing in such a way as to draw in his readers, making them participate in the creation of the fictional world by encouraging them to draw on their own personal memories when reading one of his evocative passages:
[quoting Tolkien:]..... If a story says “he climbed a hill and saw a river in the valley below,” the illustrator may catch, or nearly catch, his own vision of such a scene; but every hearer of the words will have his own picture, and it will be made out of all the hills and rivers and dales he has ever seen, but specially out of The Hill, The River, The Valley which were for him the first embodiment of the word. ....
Rateliff continues:
Tolkien’s contrast here of a single image presented to the passive viewer with the internal personalized visualization of a reader, who thus participates in the (sub)creation of the work, is of a piece with his championing, in the Foreword of the second edition to The Lord of the Rings, of what he calls applicability: his refusal to impose a single authorial or “allegorical” meaning on a work.8 I would argue that the style in which he chose to write, which he painstakingly developed over several decades until it reached its peak in The Hobbit and Farmer Giles of Ham and The Lord of the Rings and some of the late Silmarillion material, is deliberately crafted to spark reader participation. That many readers do get drawn in is witnessed by the intense investment so many people have in these books, the strong personal connection they form with the story, the almost visceral rejection of illustrations or dramatizations that do not fit their own inner vision of the characters, the returning to reread the books again and again to renew our acquaintance with the imaginary world.
[Rateliff quotes a Tolkien passage and a John Bellairs passage. He comments:]
note that in the passage from Tolkien, he does not describe every detail—what color were the rocks? who was on either side of Frodo as he sat huddled against the bitter cold? But Tolkien does tell us everything we need to know, in general terms with just enough specific detail to bring the scene home, to guide the reader’s imagination, to draw on our own memories of being cold and frozen, exhausted and miserable. We do not need to know what Frodo looked like, because we are looking through his eyes; too much detail would actually limit the applicability......
.....
he often describes a scene not as you would experience it but as you would remember it afterwards. That is, his prose assumes the tone of things which have already happened, as they are stored in our memory. Thus the “walking bits,” which have so annoyed impatient readers who are only reading for the plot, do not in fact detail every day of Frodo’s year-long journey but instead are rendered down to a relatively few vivid images, such as would linger in the memory long after the event. After you have read these passages and think back on them, they very strongly resemble your actual memories of similar events (in fact, the very ones that provided the mental images that flashed through your mind when reading them) : a general recollection of where you were and what you were doing anchored by a few sharp, vivid, specific details that stand out. Thus the memory of reading the story gains the associations of events in the reader’s own life, because the one has already drawn upon the other.
See the discussion here:
Child-like fascination