Tolkien and Allegory

I picked up a book and very quickly put it back down. It goes by the title Finding God in The Lord of the Rings, and it's written by Kurt Bruner and Jim Ware. It is a book that provides some Christian meditations on The Lord of the Rings. I think I remember trying to start it before, and this is the second time the attempt has ended in failure. Part of me is bummed that it didn't pan out, especially since it's such a short book and it would have been nice to get it knocked off the "haven't read" collection in my possession and added to the book bracket for this month.

Alas. I'm not actually that troubled, as the thought comes to mind that, you know, there are an awful lot of other books about The Lord of the Rings out there that I'd much rather read.

All that aside, I read enough of the book to find something to write about. Here is the quotation of the part that inspired this little reflection:

"The Lord of the Rings is not, as some have suggested, a covert allegory of the gospel. Tolkien clearly denied that idea. We must not turn this wonderful adventure into something it was never intended to be...Tolkien was telling a story, not proclaiming a message. His Christian worldview pushed itself up of its own accord. It is not our goal to declare Tolkien's intentions, but rather to explore the inference of his imagination, an imagination that could not help but reflect Christian themes." (Introduction, pp. xiii-xiv)

Oh boy. Oh boy.

My Frustration

My frustration with this assessment of Tolkien's work is that, I think people conflate the term "allegory" with any deeper meaning in a work of fiction. 

I will concede that Tolkien very clearly stated that his work was not allegory, and that, depending on your definition of allegory, that could shape your perception of the work. I will NOT concede that there is only one definition of "allegory." 

While is seems that some people, like Bruner and Ware, believe allegory means any sort of message that is deeper than the bald face of the adventure itself, there are definitely definitions of "allegory" that mean different things. The best take I've ever encountered on this subject is that there is such a thing as a formal allegory, where specific characters are supposed to have exact counterparts in a moral message (for example, in Medieval plays, there was a character named "Everyman" who was meant to represent, literally, every single human working out his or her salvation on earth), and there's no way that Tolkien could have meant his work to be this formal allegory. I'm not sure who stated this idea, but it may have been Joseph Pearce.

So, problem solved. There can be deeper meanings in LOTR because allegory can have differing definitions. This is not the end of my reflection, though. I'd like to take the lines quoted above and dig a little deeper into why it's problematic.

A Problematic Line of Thinking

I've complained to several people recently that I'm tired of Catholics referencing Tolkien's essay "On Fairy Stories" as one of the end-all-be-alls in exploring creativity as a gift from God, but here I am, about to reference that exact work. I should have known this would happen, and you shall now call me "The Pot" for having called the kettle black and doing that which I have criticized.

Tolkien talked about fairy tales, or "fairy stories," as he calls them, having elements that reflect Gospel truths, not least of which is the "eucatastrophe," or the unexpected happy turn of events when things looks least likely to end well, which is a sort of representation of what happened with the Resurrection. When it looked like all hope was lost for man's salvation, for God had been killed, He rose from the dead and defeated the final enemy. Tolkien certainly makes use of the "eucatastrophe" in LOTR, and it will probably be one of the finest examples of such a device in literature, no matter how many Catholic fantasy authors pay homage to it or try to recreate it in their own works.

I have spent time outlining all this information about eucatastrophes because it directly contradicts the idea stated by Bruner/Ware that "Tolkien was telling a story, not proclaiming a message." If the eucatastrophe of Gollum biting the finger from Frodo's hand and resulting accidental destruction of the Ring is not, in essence, a proclamation of the tale of the destruction of sin and death and the salvation of the world through Jesus' death and resurrection, then I don't know what proclaiming a message would look like. The sharing of this story is evangelization, in its own subtle way. It doesn't contain the entirety of catechesis, but it sure sums up some of the essential points of Christian faith.

Even if I'm completely wrong, I find it hard to believe that people who definitely don't believe there's deeper meaning to LOTR would take the time to write a book full of reflections on said non-deep-meaning work to help readers encounter God. The Christian ideas they draw from LOTR are not there in spite of Tolkien's attempts to keep the story surface level. Rather, they are there because Tolkien is a masterful writer who wove in so many of the things he had to say about sin, suffering, death, life, and redemption in the light of revealed Truth.

September 2023 Book Bracket

September Book Bracket

I was surprised and quite pleased at just how many books I read or completed this month, especially considering that school was in full swing and half the books were physical texts.

 

Frodo's Journey, by Joseph Pearce

This work of literary criticism explores the themes found beneath the surface in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.

Why I picked it up: This book was for my brother; it came in late, so I figured, what's another week or two? I want to read this. 

My impressions: This book is more like a collection of essays than an actual analysis of Frodo's journey from Hobbiton to the Cracks of Doom. The essays are good for taking a look at what is going on allegorically (yes, I mean that), even going into what kind of allegory Tolkien was working with. The beginning was quite strong, and Pearce does a fine job of pointing out connections between the story and different aspects of the Catholic faith. However. This is a book by Joseph Pearce. That means that there's going to be a lot of connecting of dots that maybe have no connection at all, and making claims based on circumstantial evidence or pretty close meanings of names in different languages or even the sound of certain syllables or letters used in certain names. That aspect of his writing bothers me - but the overall themes that he points out are pretty solid. All in all, this book is good for the Catholic fan of LOTR if they are able to swallow the extra, unsubstantiated content that Pearce includes.

The Lord of the Rings, by J. R. R. Tolkien**

The epic trilogy following Frodo and his company as they attempt to save the world from the evil Sauron by destroying a powerful ring.

Why I picked it up: My book-club-of-two gal pal agreed to make this the next book we'd read...which made sense, since our last two books were the previous two in this trilogy.

My impressions: This series is beautiful. the careful writing immerses one in the world, but the story is the real draw. It hits all the right notes, speaks timeless truths, and keeps me coming back for more. Everyone should at least try reading this book once in their life.

The Mindful Catholic, by Gregory Bottaro

A Catholic psychiatrist explains mindfulness and makes a case for why Catholics should practice it.

Why I picked it up: Someone offered to get it for me because the author was coming to speak at my alma mater.

My impressions: Unfortunately, I can't give a clear account of my thoughts on the book alone because the experience was influenced both by the talk given by the author as well as a word of warning from my spiritual director - apparently, this book is raved about by some, but frowned upon by others because it could be dangerous to those who are not well catechized. In any case, I found the explanations of what physiologically goes on in the body during stress responses to be very good, as well as descriptions of mindfulness exercises and what mindfulness is...mostly. What wasn't so great was that the book felt like it said it wasn't just another self-help book, when in reality, I think it kind of is. I tried some of the exercises, and I don't know if they were really that helpful or not - I probably should try it more consistently before I reach that conclusion...if I can be convinced that it is, in fact, okay for Catholics to practice it. I'm not convinced there's a hard-and-fast answer (see https://www.catholic.com/qa/mindfulness-meditation-and-the-church for more information). I certainly disagreed with some of the author's views in his talk, which he may have gone into in greater depth in one of the appendices, but I decided not to read that section. I don't recommend this book to others - there's enough gray area to make this a book I'm not comfortable telling other people they might want to read it. In its place, I'd heartily recommend Fr. Jacques Phillipe's Searching For and Maintaining Peace - which I'm rereading right now myself.

The Vanderbeekers of 141st Street, by Karina Yan Glaser**

The five Vanderbeeker children dedicate themselves to convincing their landlord to like them and renew his lease of the brownstone to their family.

Why I picked it up: I deferred my hold through the library for this audiobooks at least three times before I decided I just needed to make time for it when it became available to me again.

My impressions: This was a pretty great book, minus three things. The first is the opening scene, where the parents are breaking the news to their children that they have to move, and the kids assume they're about to learn their parents are getting divorced. This doesn't end up being the case, but it felt almost as if the exchange is maybe supposed to be a little funny? Or to show that the worst possible scenario isn't happening? In any case, it struck me as very sad and not the right note for the start of a book that really ends up being pretty great in most ways. The second thing is the use of "fudge" as a replacement word for a certain term, and the third is a seemingly underlying condolence of vengeful thinking or seeking vengeful retribution, with one instance of a child imagining she's stabbing someone's eyes as she uses toothpicks in a science project. Other than these three things, the book is very enjoyable. The kids are all well-developed in their personalities, and we come to love their home and neighbors almost as much as they do. It was cool to have a story set in a very urban city, in a very urban home - having a multi-family brownstone residence is quite a different setting than most books of this type that I've read, where the story takes place in a single-family home There is some obsessing over middle school dances and miscommunication between the older girls, and a boy of interest to one of them, but the book doesn't focus on middle school romance. One girl gets very upset with a sibling, and I don't agree to her shunning of the erring sibling until they reconciled - I think the parents should have stepped in and facilitated that more quickly, but I don't really know anything about parenting. This might be a great book for reading aloud as a family, especially around the Christmas holiday.

The Reluctant Dragon, by Kenneth Grahame**

When the villagers call in St. George to battle a dragon that has moved into the area, a shepherd's son must negotiate peace by means of a fake battle to save his friend, the dragon, who has no interest in anything but quiet living.

Why I picked it up: This book has been on my to-read list for ages and I kept seeing recommendations for it in different places. I was tickled to find out this short story is actually in the public domain, so I listened to it via Librivox.

My impressions: To be entirely honest, I don't get the appeal of this story. I think it's one of those stories that is delightful if you encounter it as a kid, but it didn't do much of anything for me. The characters were likeable or silly enough, depending on who they were, and there was a plot, but neither was exciting enough to draw any real investment from me. It was nice to check it off my list, but it's not one that I'm going to be telling anyone they need to read. I think the only concerns anyone could have about the story is that St. George is depicted as using some unidentified choice words with his horse, and the dragon is depicted as a good guy. Michael D. O'Brien would probably not approve of the taming of the dragon image, but I don't think there's anything actually problematic with this story. It should be fine for any readers wanting to pick it up.

Consoling the Heart of Jesus, by Fr. Michael Gaitley, MIC

This book contains a do-it-yourself Ignatian-style retreat on how we can learn to love and console Jesus' Sacred Heart.

Why I picked it up: I read another book by Fr. Gaitley earlier this year, You Did It To Me, and at some point I decided I needed to read this book for spiritual reading.

My impressions: Well, it was a Fr. Gaitley book! So there were some parts I didn't love, like the ultra down-to-earth, conversational writing style and some of those acronyms to help aid memory. However, there were also some great stories and takeaways. The main ideas I wanted to remember were jotted down in my prayer journal so I can come back to it later. It was a great refresher on being reminded of my need to trust in Jesus, and it taught me a lot. Some of the Ignatian-inspired meditations were great for imagining and praying through. This is a book where, if you actually want to get something out of it, does need to be treated as a retreat resource or meditation material. You have to try to meditate at some points if you hope try to gain something by reading it at all. I read only the first half of the book because that was the actual book part - the rest of it was appendices. This could be a good read for the people who would benefit from the topic (mercy, consoling Jesus) or enjoy Fr. Gaitley's books. It could be good for high schoolers as well as adults.

Bracket Play

The first round winners had an easy time of it. Fr. Michael Gaitley's work on consoling Jesus' heart definitely outstripped the psychological work on why Catholics should use mindful practices; the fictional work about a family about to be ousted from their home definitely had more heart and interest than the disappointing The Reluctant Dragon; and the original work The Lord of the Rings (which I said earlier would be judged as a whole work in just one month, instead of each of the three books being judged separately in individual months) blew Joseph Pearce's insights on that same work out of the water.

Bene. Tolkien's work, effectively, had a bye since there were six works, rather than the 8 that would have made a balanced bracket. Fr. Gaitley's book had some moments of real impact for me, so I had it winning over the Vanderbeekers book. However, the overtly theological book lost to The Lord of the Rings pretty easily. My only qualm was that a fictional book took the prize over a theological work, but the fantasy is definitely worthy of the prize. It's an incredible work that can reach so many more people than a theological book, which would likely be most appealing to those who are already Catholic. Everyone should at least try out The Lord of the Rings as a read sometime in their life, even if they don't like or finish it.

Books Attempted and Put Down

Gaudy Night, by Dorothy L. Sayers

Harriet Vane decides to return to her alma mater for the British equivalent of homecoming week, only to discover there's a mystery to be solved.

Why I picked it up: I've heard this book recommended for ages from different people; I heard a synopsis that made it sound pretty interesting; Dorothy Sayers is the focus of this year's local Inklings Festival.

Why I put it down: The tone was getting me down. The book was over 500 pages long, and I was in a state that I didn't want to keep pushing my luck. Besides, I was assigned Ben Hur to read, and I figure just one 500+ page book is plenty to attempt at any time. I could see myself coming back and maybe trying it again someday (once I've become that tough-minded reader I keep imagining I'll mature into), especially since I don't think I really gave it a true chance, but it's definitely not the book I need in my life right now.