Lord of the Rings

I have read LotR many times over the years, in fact it is I think the book I have read the most in this world, which i suppose makes it my favourite book, albeit closely followed by half a dozen others (shout if you want to know or take a gander at my favourites shelf).
I have always enjoyed it, understatement, but for some reason this re-read is more special than ever. I had almost forgotten how much was different from the films, and despite having read LotR once before since the films, I seem to be getting more from the book this time than ever before.

The Fellowship of The Ring 5 stars ⭐️

As part of a buddy read, I have just completed the first book of the trilogy, and have given it 5 ⭐️. As anyone who actually reads my reviews will know, I very rarely need to use spoilers as I leave other people to read the book themselves, so you will find no or few spoilers in this review. The (first) book weaves an amazing tale with incredible characters in a well constructed world. The characters and situations make you smile, laugh and even cry as the journey begins, the Fellowship is put together and at the close of this book, so cruelly broken. Having somehow forgotten the differences to the film, I thoroughly enjoyed the differences, especially Tom Bombardil and the river daughter, and surprisingly I enjoyed all the poems, some brought tears to my eyes, is it the first time I have really read them ??

February 2019 brings...

The Two Towers 5 stars ⭐️

And so here we are 20th Feb 2019 and I've finished Book 2. I must admit I had wondered if after such a gap from reading LotR and watching the films so many times if I would enjoy the book(s) as much, I think I can now 2/3rds of the way through safely say that somehow the film experience has made me love the book more (if that is possible).
Again I think the book well outshines the film although the people I see inhabiting the characters are those from the films. There are again differences which , yes, once again I prefer in the book; the way the film is split up so we follow both parts of the journey (understandably) is not as good if one is reading all of LotR as following the Aragorn/Legolas/Gimli side first and then the Frodo/Sam side second; also I never believed that Sam would abandon Frodo on the stair nor that Frodo no matter how exhausted would have sent Sam away, so it is good to be reacquainted with the fact that, that particular episode never happens; also I do not understand why in the film Treebeard has to be tricked to act rather than the Ents deciding to act as they do in the book.  Various other small differences occur but I will leave you to discover.
Suffice to say the story continues apace and one falls in love with the characters even more. One is there fighting alongside them or willing them on when the going gets tough. The poems and rhymes again were a revelation to me and made the story even more enchanting, enthralling and yes again emotional. It is slightly unsettling to be sitting on one's sofa on a Wednesday afternoon, fire lit, surrounded by ones three cats, sipping from a giant mug of coffee and finding tears streaming down ones face as you attempt to read what has become of the valiant loyal Sam or how Gandalf was returned to Middle Earth as the leader of his order. Most unsettling, hmm is it age ??
And now I must again wait until next month to start book 3, such willpower ha ha.

The Return of the King 5 stars ⭐️ (just)

So here we are in March and the final book of the trilogy, and what an epic finale it is. Again different to the film, but yet again immeasurably superior.
I put "just" in my marking of 5 stars and I think it is only just a five star read. Nothing is really "wrong" with this book, it just isn't as good ad the previous 2 in my opinion. Yes the battles are more epic, the journeys are more dangerous, the stakes are even higher (the safety of the the world) and the finale in Mordor is unbelievably dramatic but for some reason, despite being truly emotional about many scenes, yes there were tears rolling down my face, I still felt it was for some reason just not quite as good.
That said it was still amazing writing, both tense and dramatic, with pure poetry scenes littered throughout the book (Faramir and Eowyn in the House of Healing) (the decision by Arwen Evenstar to accept a mortal life with Aragon) (Sam's determination to get to the top of Mount Doom) and enough cliffhangers to last a lifetime.

Overall 5 stars ⭐️

"Here ends this tale, and with the passing of Arwen Evenstar, no more is said of the days of old. "

And so for this year and maybe the next few, I come to the end of this unbelievably emotional reunion with my favourite book. I think it reaffirms my view that the films are good, but the book is another level and just truly awesome. I look forward to both discovering even more in my next read and being reduced to an emotional wreck yet again.

⤷ The Fellowship of the Ring
⤷ The Two Towers
⤷ The Return of the King

n  Bulgarian review below/Ревюто на български е по-долуn
The pilgrimage of Frodo, Sam and their fellows lasted for a year, and it happened so that it took me nearly as long to see them home to the Shire. Well, people say good things happen slowly, so I don’t regret the journey one bit.

Something crosses my mind that Terry Pratchett has shared in ‘A Slip of the Keyboard‘. He was 12 or 13 when he read ‘The Lord of the Rings’ for the first time. His parents left him at some neighbors’ house to babysit their children while all the adults went visit somebody. To pass the time Terry (who as all boys wasn’t very keen on reading) got absorbed in the ‘LoTR’ and suddenly the Shire had spread out in his imagination and the edges of the shabby carpet turned in the Shire’s borders and beyond them adventures were awaiting. So, Terry Pratchett read all night long and for the whole next day too. He read the novel for 26 hours (with some small breaks, of course – the bladder of a 12-year-old is not a water-skin after all). In the years to come he continued to reread the book each year. This is how it goes, brilliant minds resonate in accord.

When I was almost finished with the novel I realized that ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is actually an allegory of the human life. There is a spirit of idyll in the Shire, days are lazy and sometimes tinted with mischievousness, and Gandalf’s visits are sheer feasts – that looks very much like childhood perhaps. Then you step outside the hobbit hole and the limits of the known and you plunge into adventures – you had been yearning so much to lose those familiar faces for a while and see if some glorious song might be sung for you too. The journey starts jolly, one repast follows another (the food in the first part is indeed quite abundant – Tolkien himself says that ‘If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world’), you sing songs, admire everything new and your eyes are as big as pancakes as you try to perceive all novelties that happen to you – I suppose that’s the period of youth. After that though you slowly realize that you carry a truly heavy burden on your shoulders, that you have responsibilities and failure means too much, it means the world. Songs are noticeably fewer, you sing once in a blue moon and it’s only to give yourself courage and to remember the past when things used to be simple, and not to enjoy yourself. And like in life there are glimpses of hope, but also precipitous collapses in pitch-dark depths, you are sometimes alone among the multitude and sometimes there is a friend to lend you a helping hand, and you put one foot in front of the other and keep going because you know that nobody is going to wage that battle for you. And you rely on the flickering hope that one day you could sigh ‘I’m finally back’.

There is some very sweet melancholy seeped through Tolkien’s world or at least I felt it that way. The verdure and meadows in the Shire, to fight for the world, but also for your tiny homeland, though it will never be the same, to do all you are capable of for what you know is good and right even if you won’t be there to enjoy it yourself…
‘It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.’

Choose a dauntless pony (let his name be Bill for example) or a proud steed as Shadowfax and ride through the Middle-earth. There be wonders.

Who can say where the road goes?
Where the day flows?
n  Only Timen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Около година продължи странстването на Фродо, Сам и техните (за)другари, така се случи, че кажи-речи толкова ми отне и на мен, за да ги изпратя обратно до Графството. Е, хубавите неща нали ставали бавно, та никак не съжалявам.

Подсещам се нещо, което Тери Пратчет споделя в n  A Slip of the Keyboardn. Бил на 12-13, когато прочел „Властелинът на пръстените“ за пръв път. Родителите му го оставили у някакви съседи да бави децата им, докато всички възрастни отишли някъде на гости. Тери (който като всяко хлапе от мъжки пол тогава хич не бил по четенето), уж да минава времето, се захласнал във „Властелина“ и изведнъж във въображението му вече се било ширнало Хобитово, а краищата на протъркания килим в стаята били границите на Графството, отвъд които чакали приключения. Та така, Тери Пратчет чел цяла нощ, а след това и през целия следващ ден. Прочел романа за 26 часа (с малки почивки, разбира се – все пак пикочният мехур на едно 12-годишно дете не е мях). След това в продължение на години го препрочитал по веднъж годишно. Така е то, умовете на гениалните хора резонират в съзвучие.

Към края на романа осъзнах, че „Властелинът на пръстените“ е всъщност алегория на човешкия живот. В Графството витае дух на идилия, дните са изпълнени къде с леност, къде с някоя лудория, а идването на Гандалф е същински празник – нещо като детството може би. По-нататък прекрачваш прага на хòбитовата дупка и изобщо границите на познатото и се впускаш в приключения – ей, така си жадувал да се отърсиш от тези познати лица и да видиш може ли някоя и друга славна песен да се съчини и за теб. Пътуването започва бодро, още не си станал от трапезата и сядаш на нова (наистина в първата част хапването е доста на корем – ненапразно и самият Толкин твърди ‘If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world’), пееш песни, любуваш се на новите неща и очите ти са грамадни като палачинки в стремежа ти да обемеш всичкото това ново, което ти се случва – това ще да е периодът на младостта. По-нататък обаче постепенно осъзнаваш, че на плещите си носиш истински тежко бреме, че имаш отговорности, че провалът вече означава твърде много, означава всичко. Песните вече са осезаемо по-малко, пееш си от дъжд на вятър и то по-скоро за кураж и за да си спомниш миналото, когато нещата бяха простички, а не за да се веселиш. И тъй както в живота има моменти на надежда, но има и стремглави пропадания в непрогледни глъбини, понякога си сам сред гмежта, а понякога има приятел, който да ти подаде ръка, и правиш крачка след крачка, и продължаваш, защото знаеш, че тази битка е твоя и няма кой да я води вместо теб. И се осланяш на мъждукащото упование, че един ден ще можеш въздъхвайки да кажеш „Е, върнах се“.

Някаква много сладка тъга е пропита в Толкиновия свят или поне аз така го усетих. Зеленината и ливадите на Графството, да се пребориш за света, но и за малкото си родно кътче, макар че никога вече няма да е същото, да направиш каквото е по силите ти за това, което знаеш, че е правилно , дори да не можеш да му се порадваш после самичък…
„Често се налага да бъде тъй, Сам, когато над щастието натегне заплаха – някой трябва да се откаже от него, да го загуби, за да го запазят останалите.“

Изберете си едно сърцато пони (да се казва примерно Бил) или пък горд жребец като Сенкогрив и препускайте из Средната земя. Очакват ви чудеса.

Who can say where the road goes?
Where the day flows?
Only Time

I was forced to read this book. Each member of my first book club had an opportunity to choose the book we read. When one of the members chose The Lord of the Rings I was not happy. Fantasy is not my genre! But I was a good book club member and read it anyway.

I loved it! There were times when I did not want to sleep because I wanted to finish just one more page or chapter. Tolkien creates whole worlds, languages, species, and histories. It is epic in its scope. Somehow he manages to entertain, make you think, and visualize the world he describes.

It taught me a lesson about being open to new things, because sometimes by being open you can be richly rewarded.

As I’ve already written three joke reviews of these books (which you can find here, here, and here, if you’re interested), it seems high time for me to sit down and actually write an earnest review.

I should say, first of all, that I am among the group of unfortunates who watched the movies before readings the books; so when I sat down to read The Lord of the Rings, I already knew the characters and the plot. No doubt that this negatively affected my experience of the books, for the movies followed Tolkien pretty closely. I should also say that I really do love the movies. I don’t think they’re cinematic masterpieces or brilliant works of art, but I enjoy them immensely nonetheless. Perhaps, in movies, I look much more for entertainment than for art; I don’t think Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or The Big Lebowski are wonderful works of art, but I do think they’re wonderful movies.

In books, on the other hand, I tend to look more for artistry than for entertainment. This may be just an old-fashioned or snobbish preference, but the fact remains that I know much more about how books are made than movies, so I can be a more intelligent critic. Plus, books have been around for far longer; some of the greatest minds in history have written books, and this necessarily raises the bar. So I think I’m not altogether unjustified in applying more critical standards to the books.

Let me sum up my opinion in one sentence: I think these books have serious flaws, and lovely merits. And I’ll try to tackle them in that order. Yet, it is easy, far too easy, to criticize Tolkien—so much so that I even hesitate to do it. But here it goes.

Tolkien is simply not a novelist. Being a novelist requires, not only that you are a good writer and have a fertile imagination, but that you have certain skills. Writing nonfiction is not good practice for fiction. In nonfiction, you write with only one voice and one perspective—your own. A novelist, on the other hand, must be able to dive deeply into diverse psychologies and personalities. To be a novelist is, in fact, very much like being an actor playing a role; writing nonfiction, on the other hand, is much more like being a politician delivering a speech.

Tolkien was not an actor. His characters (at least, his protagonists) are all remarkably similar. They are all terribly nice, polite, courageous, kind, gentle, good-hearted, and respectable. They only rarely get angry, and are never mean. They sometimes make mistakes, but most often are astonishingly competent. Although many of the characters come from different backgrounds and cultures—and many from different species—there is almost no infighting between the protagonists. In the movies, the characters often get frustrated, angry, or distraught; but the emotional tone is far more even in these books, and that tone is of quiet fortitude and good-natured bravery.

One of the things that I found most stifling about the books was the almost total absence of humor. There is whimsy, yes; there is silliness, sure. But there is no wit, no spice, no savor. And it’s not only that there isn’t any wit, but it’s that wittiness seems entirely foreign to Tolkien’s whole mentality; I can’t imagine Tolkien enjoying one of Wilde’s epigrams or Voltaire's satires. So by the time I reached the end of each volume, I felt a desperate need to laugh; and my joke reviews were, in that way, the most honest reviews I could have written. I felt like I had just sat through a very long concert of chamber music—which was very good music, after all—and needed a relief from the stuffiness and the seriousness.

There are many other criticisms that one could make of these books, but I'll try not to spend too much time on them. For one, they are far too boyish. I don’t mean that there aren’t enough female characters—there are many great books with few female characters—but that the books are written for boys. I’m saying this as a former boy who still enjoys a good superhero or adventure story, that it just got to be too much; I felt like I had to go read Pride and Prejudice or something as a tonic. Another obvious flaw is that the world Tolkien creates is, in many ways, lacking in dimension. There are several kingdoms, several types of creatures, and a long mythological history. But are there any religions? Is there any intellectual life? Are we supposed to simply accept that Aragorn is the one true king, and that his reign will be beautiful and just and wonderful? And what are the common people doing? How is their lot? In short, there’s an awful lot that is simply swept under the rug; and all vanity, intrigue, ignorance, and struggle, which for me characterizes almost all social and political life, is almost entirely absent from the world of our protagonists.

Much of Tolkien’s flaws as a novelist and a maker of worlds can be attributed to his oft-mentioned dichotomous understanding of good and evil. For Tolkien, good and evil are two points, fixed and immutable, and you are either standing on one spot or the other. Yes, some characters waver—Boromir is the prime example of this. But note that the reader is never unsure of what goodness is; the characters sometimes are tempted by power, but we are never in doubt what is the right and wrong thing to do in any situation. This is why the protagonists all sound and act so similarly—there isn’t much wiggle-room in Tolkien’s conception of goodness. And this is also why there isn’t any religious, cultural, or political tensions among the protagonists. Tolkien’s idea of goodness is uniform; the idea of pluralism, relativism, or even of uncertainly regarding anything moral, is totally foreign to Tolkien.

This struggle between pure good and pure evil also makes for bad literature. After all, the greatest works of literature are often riddled with ambiguity. Homer is exciting because you both root for Achilles and for Hector; Milton’s Satan is fascinating because he is so sympathetic, and yet so spiteful; and people will argue about Hamlet until the sun explodes. Even more humble examples show the importance of ambiguity: Mr. Rochester is charismatic, but also brutish and selfish; Mr. Darcy is an uptight snob, but sincere. I’m sure we could have a very interesting discussion about the likability of Holden Caulfield, Jake Barnes, or Jay Gatsby. But could we have that discussion about Aragorn or Gandalf? I don’t think we could, and that’s what feels so suffocating. Tolkien almost forces his view of the story upon us; there isn’t really much room for different interpretations (which is also partly why I wrote my reviews the way I did, to show how bottlenecked is all criticism of these works).

But on the level of pure writing style, Tolkien is far from incompetent. His prose is doughty, plucky, and pleasingly quaint. At his best, Tolkien’s writing has an oaky, rustic charm; but at his worst, Tolkien’s writing can be stiff and wooden. I found Tolkien’s descriptions of battles particularly soporific, probably because they often lacked concrete detail. Consider this passage, chosen almost at random:

The next day, though the darkness had reached its full and grew no deeper, it weighed heavier on men’s hearts, and a great dread was on them. Ill news came soon again. The passage of Anduin was won by the Enemy. Faramir was retreating to the wall of the Pelennor, rallying his men to the Causeway Forts; but he was ten times outnumbered.

That is, I think, a fair sample of the way Tolkien narrates battles. It has a nice ring to it, certainly; but it is neither strongly visual nor kinesthetic. It is devoid of concrete detail; it feels too much like I’m being told about the battle, and not enough like I’m there experiencing it. (As a side note, I was surprised that the battle scenes weren’t more impressive, given that Tolkien served as a soldier.)

Despite these flaws, the tone of these books does have a wonderful uniformity; it takes a lot of skill to maintain a single tone for such a long time, and Tolkien accomplishes it masterfully. There are no jarring transitions or incongruous passages, but all is of the same cloth. This makes reading these books often feel much more like reading an epic poem or a myth, than a novel. And, as I’d like to suggest, this is how these books should be read: as myths, not novels.

To complete my earlier statement, Tolkien is simply not a novelist; he is a myth-maker. As novels, I think The Lord of the Rings fail utterly; but as myths, they utterly succeed. Much of this has to do with Tolkien’s background in languages; as Manny notes, the names of the characters have been given so much thought, that they stick in the mind effortlessly, and yet retain a kind of exotic charm. (The only exception to this is Mt. Doom—I’m not sure why he opted for such a comic-book name.) Like characters out of an oral poem, the protagonists of these books are heavy, flat, and heroic. Aragorn would be just as much at home in the world of Beowulf as in Middle Earth.

I can’t exactly say why myths are so emotionally satisfying. Joseph Campbell attempted to answer that question in his Hero with a Thousand Faces; and, indeed, the plot of The Lord of the Rings corresponds very closely with Campbell’s monomyth. For Campbell, myths help us get in touch with our unconscious dream-world, to reconnect with that childlike sense of wonder and fantasy that is so often excluded from our daily lives. Well, I’m not too sure what lies at the heart of myths; but clearly something in these books speaks powerfully to many readers. We all love feeling like we’re heroes on a quest, fighting dangerous monsters at every turn, relying on only our own cleverness and strength. We all love beating the bad guys and experiencing the triumphant thrill of victory.

But in the end I didn’t love these books. They are interesting samples of modern myths; but what I think ultimately holds them back is Tolkien’s refusal to really confront the themes he is writing about. In Homer’s poems, killing is sometimes heroic, but death is always ghastly and horrible; in these books, Tolkien can write about the death of thousands of orcs and men without really coming to grips with the horror of the situation. He does not delve deeply into the nature of good and of evil, but takes them as givens. In short, I don’t think he lives up to his material; and that's a shame because his material is so interesting and rich. Tolkien the story-teller was not the equal of Tolkien the myth-maker.

As a parting thought, I’d like to suggest that Tolkien’s real gem was his first book: The Hobbit. Bilbo is a much more compelling protagonist than Frodo. And I think Tolkien is at his charming best when he is writing of hobbits, dwarves, and forgetful wizards. In The Lord of the Rings, I consistently thought his most silly characters were his best realized: Treebeard and Tom Bombadil were far more memorable than Legolas or Gimli. Paradoxically, when Tolkien was writing his most whimsical characters, the books seemed the most serious; nobody but Tolkien could have imagined Gollum in all his ghastly splendor. It is here that I think his real genius lay, and that is why I think The Hobbit is a better book—and doubly grand for being twice as humble.

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Just came across this review by Edmund Wilson, that I largely agree with:

http://jrrvf.com/sda/critiques/The_Na...

(The formatting is a bit dodgy.)

can be summarised as: walking, walking, walking, bit of fighting with orcs, walking, walking, walking, anguish, walking, walking, walking, bit more fighting with orcs, walking, walking, walking.

Prima rilettura del capolavoro di Tolkien, capolavoro perchè è un'opera così particolareggiata, così densa di sfumature e ideata per essere un'epica avventura dove Tolkien non si focalizza solo su un solo personaggio rendendolo l'eroe incontrastato, ma qui il tutto è protagonista, anzi il lettore stesso lo è. Poi vi sono le appendici e si capisce all'istante di non aver letto una "semplice" storia, ma una storia di storie di altre storie all'interno di un universo, tutto creato da un uomo solo: Tolkien.
La prima volta che lo lessi, mi aveva letteralmente sbalordito, perchè la scrittura è molto ricercata, i personaggi sono molteplici e splendidamente caratterizzati, ma all'epoca non avevo ancora letto "Il Silmarillion". Ora, avendo "Il Silmarillion" che gironzola ancora nelle mia testa, la lettura si è rivelata qualcosa di ancora superiore, riuscivo a collegare molti degli eventi narrati come se fossero parte della Storia e sogghignavo affascinato e con ancora più coinvolgimento della prima volta. Mi son sempre chiesto come Tolkien fosse stato in grado di creare una storia così grandiosa, quella de "Il Signore degli Anelli", ma quella che avevo letto era solo una parte. Quindi Tolkien è un "semplice" essere umano o è un Valar o addirittura Eru in carne ed ossa?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnVlN...

Very popular and influential fantasy novel. Although alternatively a non-multi-media version of the same concerns and inspirations as Wagner's Ring cycle.

I read it six and half times by the age of thirteen, at which point I was reasonably sure that I knew what was coming next. I didn't come back to it after that because I read Maxim Gorky and then Dostoevsky and learnt that books could be explosive, shocking and powerful in other ways, you know like the old Heiniken beer strap-line -'refreshes the parts other beers do not reach'.

After the Simarillion it seems odd how little of that prior history that Tolkien brought to bear on the Lord of the Rings, curious since he had been writing those other stories since he was a teenager, his creativity it seems could be compartmentalised at times in interesting ways. And what was the point of the elvish (and other) languages that could have been used to powerful verfremdungseffekt, but no, everything significant happens in English in the story.

I am happy that I read this in the transition from childhood to teenage years, but it has come to exemplify pretty everything that I dislike about fantasy as a genre, such as a map being a substitute for a plot and narrow emotional range. Moving from this to say Njal's Saga is a step change in sophistication (for a start the latter has women  ok technically there are female characters in Lord of the Rings but in comparison to other books with characters of both genders they are pretty flat and functionless). Equally though the map driven plot is a good way to tap into creativity, if the characters must travel from A to Z through B ( a forest) and C (mountains) etc you can see how the book begins to write itself - how will the characters react in the forest, who might they meet there, what is the forest like (Spooky? Beautiful? Flora and fauna?)

Watching the films some of the changes annoyed me hugely, but above all particularly noticing how much work the film score does I was reminded of another fantasy of my own - that many films would be better with out dialogue, just the music and the occasional card with explanatory text like in Silent films.

As I’ve mentioned, I am a huge fan of both fantasy in general and the films specifically. My first read through the series occurred during my high school years and, I’m sad to say, was not very enjoyable. I saw the movies before reading the series and I think this did much to set my expectations up for an entirely different type of story-telling. In the last few months my husband and I played through Lego Lord of the Rings and it got me to thinking that maybe now, after getting both a bachelor’s and master’s degree in English literature, I’d be ready to read through the series again with an open mind.

What can you say about this book that has not already been said? What a huge creative power Tolkien had, that he could create such beautiful worlds (especially the Elves and the Ents are sublime). Basically, of course, it's about the classic struggle between good and evil, about real friendship and sacrifice, perseverance and courage. But it remains well-balanced and beautifully laced with a layer of sophisticated humor and introspection, a blissful panoramic epic that in many ways is reminiscent of the Iliad and the Odyssey, but with its own, slightly medieval references.

Some minor critical comments?: 1. the many songs of course are specific to those imaginative worlds, but unfortunately "work" not so well in ours; 2. women hardly come into the picture and if they do, they hardly transcend the archetype of the virtuous courtly Lady; only in the annexes Tolkien corrects this image slightly.

Ultimately, it is the diversity in the world of the Ring that most enchanted me: all those kinds of people, elves, hobbits, orcs, wizards, etc. with their own language, customs and history, their great and small flaws and defects. It's a rich variety which engenders wonder and interest. The most hopeful message the book gives is that Tolkien illustrates that even those different types beings can find "common ground" and make life more livable. What a glorious performance!

Concedetemi un po' di autobiografismo, perché Tolkien non può essere recensito.

Era il gennaio del 2002 quando gli amici del liceo mi invitarono a vedere un film d'avventura. Il Signore degli anelli, questo il titolo della pellicola, e per le mie conoscenze letterarie d'allora poteva benissimo essere la biografia di un gioielliere. Andai tuttavia a vederlo con loro, entrando in sala senza alcuna idea di ciò che avrei dovuto aspettarmi.
Due ore e mezza dopo, uscii dalla sala con la bocca ancora aperta.
Diciotto ore dopo tornai a vederlo da sola.
Avevo finalmente ricondotto il titolo del film a un volume ingiallito e dalla rilegatura scassata che vagava periodicamente in giro per casa (la storica edizione Rusconi), continuamente prestato e restituito reciprocamente tra mio padre, mio nonno, mia zia e mio zio -di chi fosse quella copia, poi, mai si è saputo con certezza- da vent'anni a quella parte. La lettura, però, dovette attendere la trasposizione cinematografica de Le due torri, quando cioè compresi che non avrei mai potuto aspettare un anno per conoscere la fine della trilogia.
Sono trascorsi quasi dieci anni dall'uscita del primo film, rivisto innumerevoli volte insieme ai suoi seguiti; un'altra volta ho letto il libro dopo la prima; una copia l'ho regalata a una persona per me importantissima, riuscendo a invogliarla al mondo della letteratura e del fantastico, e quella persona importantissima a sua volta mi ha fatto dono dell'edizione illustrata che ho appena finito di leggere. Adesso la copia ingiallita la sta leggendo mio fratello minore, e dopo essere passata tra le mani di mio nonno, mio zio, mia zia, mio padre, mie, credo sia giunto il momento che vada a lui.

Il viaggio della vita

Indescrivibile l'immersione in un mondo pulsante di vita e potenzialità di esistenze; di leggende che riverberano dal passato e si proiettano in epoche che mai vedremo né contempleremo neanche con la forza del pensiero.
L'abbandono del proprio nido famigliare, porto sicuro che protegge dai tumultuosi mari dell'ignoto, dischiude un mondo in continua evoluzione che muore e rinasce nel perpetuare dei secoli.
E si combatte il male con il poco che si ha, passo dopo passo e scelta dopo scelta, con la resistenza di chi non può e non deve scendere a compromessi; una lotta che logora nel profondo e si annida in noi, per ricordarci eternamente il prezzo della meta e l'importanza del percorso sostenuto per raggiungerla.

Assodato che Tolkien stesso rifiutasse allegorie e metafore di qualunque tipologia (la letteratura, in sé, non cela necessariamente fini morali o necessità di critica), la rielaborazione profonda e stratificata della mitologia nordeuropea - in misura minore celtica e irlandese - diventa esercizio della riscrittura di una personale epica capace di plasmare un mondo a sé stante, esistente tanto quanto il nostro: genealogie capillari e ramificate, lingue e pronunce, susseguirsi di ere e una mitologia interna, da cui la stessa storia attinge per mettere in moto la narrazione, sono tutte caratteristiche che rendono Il signore degli anelli un'opera cardine della letteratura, non ascrivibile nella comoda etichetta fantasy.
Se, per mia personale inclinazione, sono oramai quasi tre anni che considero Il libro Malazan dei Caduti l'opera fantasy preferita per modernità di prosa e contenuti affrontati, serve onestà intellettuale nel riconoscere a Tolkien l'indubbia paternità di stilemi all'interno del genere e, aspetto ancora più importante, un metro di paragone forse definitivo nella rigorosità del worldbuilding.
Pietra miliare.