Un imprescindible del género fantástico. Eso sí, verás la hierba crecer y las lunas pasar. No esperes acción trepidante a cada página. Lo mejor la comunidad del anillo y los valores de amistad y lealtad que transmite la novela.

Dear mister Tolkien,

thank you. Thank you for this wonderful place called Middle Earth. Thank you not only for its joyful lands but for the perilous ones too. Thank you for Aragorn, whom I shall call my own King till my last breath. Thank you for the most amazing friendship between an Elf and a Dwarf, for those four little Halflings, Hobbits, who had more courage than Men ever had. Thank you for showing us that even a small person can change the world. Thank you for creating a new genre of fantasy and for showing us, how important world building is for a story. I sincerely hope, that after my last breath, my journey to Middle Earth will begin.

THANK YOU.

With love,

your fellow reader.

Centouno

There was an old linguist called Tolkien
Who by setting strange creatures a-talkin'
Did prove to the world
A pen’s mightier than a sword
For even I wish I could speak me some Orckian

A sinistra... / A destra...


.

The BBC Big Read says it's the #1 novel ever, beating out the likes of Pride & Prejudice, Jane Eyre, and Harry Potter. Who am I to argue, it certainly was my first and favorite in the realm of fantasy literature. As an adult I've come to appreciate the traditional novel's more, from writers like the Bronte's, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and others. But the mysterious and magical land and inhabitants of Middle Earth will always have a welcome spot in my heart and mind.

OH THIS BOOK. I ABSOLUTELY LOVED EVERY PART OF IT. Well, almost every part. I'll start out with the only part I didn't like, then I'll squeal and blubber and fangirl.

The ending. I'm admitting it. I ABSOLUTELY DETESTED THE ENDING. I went through ALL of that, and the characters went through all the torture, I really, really wish there had been a happy, peaceful ending. That ending made me want to throw the book out the window. Other than the ending, I ADORED the entire book. And also I love Elanor. And Sam and Rose. AND SAM AND BILL THE PONY. AND SAM AND FRODO. BASICALLY I ADORED SAM.

Let's see, where to start.

I officially want to be called a gammer when/if I become a grandma, guys. #nerdforever

Unfortunately, I only remembered to write down one favorite quote, but there were so many, people.

"And no one was ill, and everyone was pleased, except those who had to mow the grass."

And also I now understand this:


Also, I totally shipped Eowyn and Faramir, guys. ;) AND GIMLI AND EOMER'S FIGHT ABOUT GALADRIEL. XD SO MUCH AWESOMENESS. *deep breaths* And also the effect of the Entdraughts on Merry and Pippin. ;)

AND THE PARALLEL CHAPTER TITLES!!!! The first chapter of The Hobbit is "An Unexpected Party" and the first chapter of LotR is "A Long-expected Party". Oh, Tolkien, you are so clever!!! XD

Give me some time.

i am tempted to go out and buy a wobbly table just so I can put this book to good use.

A review of a book like this at this point is somewhat purposeless but I just want to add that it is perfectly understandable for generations already exposed to this book's descendants that are written more to the tone and vibe of their generation to respect this book, or maybe not even respect it, and not love it as Tolkien has fairly singular obsessions that may not be their thing. We do very much live in a generation, be it in books or music, or just attention spans, of taking all that other stuff out and just leave the cool shit. I'm here for that. I'm here for the input of all succeeding generations.

I'm also here for this book though and while the book stands up to me, even if it didn't, there are a handful of books, maybe less than a half dozen in each genre that you (or at least I) give a 5 stars because of how foundational they are both to the actual art being produced and what it did to carve out a market. All that 70s/80 epic fantasy, some of which were great, are almost completely indebted to Tolkien and their success was the blueprint that signaled to publishers, oh this is a thing we can put money in.

It's also almost the ultimate mixture for a very young kid obsessed with reading above their level and checks the boxes of classic and that fantasy we all love at once. I remember being in middle school and it was this series and Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum that obsessed me.

Aside, an odd story related to LotR, it actually revealed how bafflingly dumb some adults could be at an age where you still trusted adults and acknowledged their wisdom and experience and didn't think they were all like vile people on Facebook all day lol. I was walking home from the library having checked this book out again (because that's how we do) and I stopped by my best friend's house who lived across the street from me just to see if he was and wanted to play some ball (we lived at the mouth of a park with courts and the it was one of our town's prime spots for pick up games). His mother answered the door, saw the book, and said she'd go get my friend but I couldn't come in with that book because "it was a portal of evil". I don't know I used such language at the time but it may have been the first time I thought "you're the dumbest mofo I ever met" even before I knew the word. It's like it got downloaded into my brain from the experience points I just got from this encounter.

I remember the day vividly in the only way I could at the time, being somewhat of an already arrogant kid, and thinking damn if there are adults who become like this in the world I'm going to be hugely successful in whatever I choose to do if this is what I'm competing with. Thanks Tolkien.

The movies are great too. Incredible accomplishment. Almost impossible to believe. But the books are where I get my Glorfindel.

Note, Sept. 18, 2020: I just edited this review again, to delete the word "trilogy" since a reader made a comment objecting to it. (Strictly speaking, Tolkien did envision the LOTR books as a single long novel --which, in terms of plot structure, it actually is-- not a trilogy in the usual sense. It's just published in three volumes because its sheer length makes it unwieldy in one.)

Note, March 11, 2019: I just edited this review to insert an accidentally omitted word.

Actually, I read Tolkien's masterful Middle Earth fantasy corpus, beginning with The Hobbit in the early 70's and finishing the Lord of the Rings almost a decade later, before this anniversary edition came out. (I also read all four books to my wife in the early 80's; she loved them too!)

This body of work is, of course, the genre-defining classic of modern fantasy --especially epic, or "high" fantasy -- which popularized the genre as the publishing market force it is today, exerted enormous influence over practically all subsequent fantasy authors (including R. A. Salvatore and Terry Brooks), and set the conventions readers would come to expect: a pre-technological setting, an epochal struggle between good and evil whose outcome is determined by magical factors, and a demand for personal moral growth on the part of the characters thrust into a pivotal role in that struggle. And Tolkien's depictions of wizards, elves, dwarfs, dragons, etc. became the template for all subsequent portrayals of these creatures.

Part of the success of Tolkien's work derives from the breath- taking scope of his world-building, which reflects his day jobs as a philologist and medievalist; he created entire languages and folklores for his "Middle Earth," as well as a detailed, millenia-spanning history. But more importantly, as a devout Catholic, he embodied his deeply Christian world-view in the writing: his fantasy world (though he doesn't employ the kind of explicit Christian symbolism that C. S. Lewis does) is the scene of conflict between good and evil with world-altering significance, under a superintending Providence, in which the individual moral choices of both the high and the lowly have significance, and temptation is an ever-present danger.

Out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering above her. With a cry of hatred that stung the very ears like venom he let fall his mace. Her shield was shivered in many pieces, and her arm was broken; she stumbled to her knees. He bent over her like a cloud, and his eyes glittered; he raised his mace to kill.

One of the best books ever. Stirred the embers of more imaginations than can be measured. Found a way to reach something vital but ineffable inside millions of different souls. Presented the world with Sauron, his Nazgûl, and the Balrog to tip the scales of evil; Gandalf, Galadriel, and the stalwart gentlehobbit Frodo to lend ballast to those of good; whereas, with Tom Bombadil, who really knows what trippy trail that earth-bound spirit is blazing: and who the can top all of that? It first spoke to me when my fantastic fifth grade teacher chose The Fellowship of the Ring for our classroom reading period, and I've never looked back.

There are curiosities that abound within the trilogy, not least in that the opening chapters of The Fellowship of the Ring would not be out of place as a direct sequel to The Hobbit, whereas by the time we have reached Rivendell, the entire tone of the book has been altered: become more adult, more serious and darker, possessed of a sense of finality and portents of an end to wondrous things that comes to permeate the remainder of this questing original. By the time we get to the Scouring of the Shire at the close of the third book, it is understood that even the bucolic goodwill and perduring staidness of the Hobbit realm has been stirred, shaken, even broken in parts, and cannot go back to what it was. What's more, with every subsequent reading I found it more difficult to accept that the Nazgûl failed so miserably in their great and urgent task of taking back the Ring from Frodo, even with Strider/Aragorn in the picture; that these ferocious sorcerer-spectres were driven away—all nine at once, mind, which few men had ever proven able to withstand—with the Ring well within their grasp, well, it truly tests my suspension of disbelief. With that said, though, how many other parts of the story fail? Precious few, I think, particularly within the context of a transitional world linked to the ancient and primordial past only by the maintenance of Elvish magic, and that contingent upon the very survival of the One Ring that they would most wish to see utterly unmade. The trilogy represents a final outreach of the elder races ere the full and overwhelming dominion of Man; and the evil incarnate within such demi-gods as Morgoth and Sauron, its essence imbued within the very earth itself and permeating the susceptible souls of the new ruling race of free-choosing (and hence, free-damning) mortal (wo)men will in the future prove just as effective a corruptive and destructive force without the dominating presence of an avataric darkling lord to wield it from a centre of power.

But what interests me these days, more than the well-known story itself, is trying to suss what constitutes the enduring spell that TLOTR casts upon its legion of readers, whether experienced hands or rookies new to its peculiar fantastic delights. Is it a yearning to escape a world of routine and rational technodemocracy where everything seems sullied by the pursuit of the dollar and tomorrow will be but a twin of today, which was sibling to its brethren of the day before? A world absent of miracles and beauty that stirs the very body to fealty? Where lawyers abound to clarify the legal implications of every action that falls outside of the commonplace or expected? Where the rich are not bound by a noblesse oblige to fight to protect those who labour on their behalf, but hire those selfsame workers to do the fighting for them? Where the powerful rules that uphold modern science can be replaced by naught but the mystical exertion of a rich spirit's will - a Nietzschean surmounting of the barriers to controlling the energies of a nature that, to us, seems distant and out of sync? Where things like honor and blood ties bound people together with a lasting surety and strength that would be incomprehensible in our modern fragmented neighborhoods, where you can wander through blocks of crammed apartments and dirty houses without meeting with a single smile or nodding acknowledgement? Where evil, though ever lurking to tempt men away from the path of truth, could be traced to its roots in the rebellious uprising of cosmogonic spirits, blackened godlings whose lusts for chaos and dominance seeped into the human psyche through a process of corrupting what, in its original nature, was pure and fulgent? Beats me - but it's got to be something, because Tolkien's trilogy is one of those rare books that, it seems, will never be in danger of being removed from the presses.

In an irony-drenched and übersceptical postmodern civilization it must strike many as absurd that there exists an insatiable demand for this tripartite tale penned in the manner of an irascible, waddling county squire whose tropes and forms—slavishly reworked and rehashed in the reams of fantasy fiction that has been churned out since its initial publication—hearken back to the foundational mythologies of patriarchal oppression, class division, and romantic irrationality that it was both hoped and expected the postwar years would have superseded. I've read critiques from the likes of Moorcock - n  Epic Poohn - and, while able to understand why he dismisses it, simply cannot manage to summon any commiseration for the repugnance he feels. First and foremost, the tale grew out of the imaginative legends Tolkien had concocted as backdrop for his linguistic creations—and coming as he did from a proud and tradition-bound Roman-Catholic background; and pursuing as he did his studies in the philological field of Anglo-Saxon language and literature; and enjoying as he did various ancient and medieval mythologies and the fantastic weavings of influential forbears such as Dunsany, MacDonald, and Eddison; well, can there be any surprise that his brilliant questing trilogy evoked calls to Welsh faeries, Norse dragons, Scots trolls, Finnish hunters, comfortable and sturdy Midland farms, Gaelic heroes, and a loving but distant God beyond a host of angels whose essence devolves downward? It is hard to fault the man for pursuing his own personal passions and visions and putting them into a textual form for which he expected, at best, a modest return—why not swing, rather, at a public that—from the very first printing—lapped it up with all the eagerness of a thirsty tribe wandered in from an exodus amidst a particularly sere desert?

And therein lies the rub: it galls such as Moorcock that one generation after another yields en masse an avid affection and enthusiasm to what he considers a frivolous and archaic bit of stuffiness and prudery and dusty parochialism set to the service of an aulde England of division and oppression that it would be far better to have left behind. He wonders, as do others, at what can be hale about a tale that deftly avoids anything beyond the faintest intimations of sexuality and, for the most part, relegates women to a gender-specified subservience and passivity as Middle-Earth window-dressing; that appears to embrace the pernicious prejudice of the inherent superiority of white North European culture; that avoids any avowal of the economic, religious, or political structures and systems that must inevitably have been at play and working their damaging and divisive effects upon such a vast civilization; that fluffs and puffs with trite, sentimental songs and portentous magic and heavy-lidded memories the better to disguise the utter irrelevance and unseriousness of what is unfolding, the priggish and confining morality that puts everyone in their place—bowing to the gods and to one's social superiors—whilst upholding the aristocratic warrior as the virtuous ideal; that separates good and evil in a manner that provides a comforting and ready accounting for the myriad ills of the world, but which actually trivializes these ethical issues, especially in an age that witnessed the horrors of the holocaust and communist purges.

How can this be? How can an enlightened and post-capitalist postwar society continue to be enthralled by an updated version of timeworn mythologies—the latest of which ripened during the Dark Ages—shaped with the hammer of mothballed and morbid uppercrust morality of the sort that harumphs conspicuously and comes bearing bow-ties? Perhaps for some of the reasons I listed at the start of this review. Escapist fare has always been popular, but there seems to be as much, if not more of a hunger for the fantastic the more the trappings of the latter fade from our view. Modern society is one bound to the clock, ofttimes divided and parceled out down to the very minute; one in which we spend hours every day idling in a car, riding an elevator, waiting in queues, sitting at a desk, pushing a cart, with productivity and efficiency forever on the increase and a sense of who we are, where we are going, why we are on that journey, what we are meant to accomplish along the way and how we are to achieve these goals—with the very knowledge of our mortality, the ephemeral nature of all our achievements, staring us full-on in the face even when we deign to look away—eludes our grasp like the mists wafted forth on a humid spring morning.

To be taken away to an invented world wherein everything serves some manner of purpose and greater goods actually carry an immediate import and eternal consequence, where the enemy is implacable and can be neither appeased nor reasoned with but only defeated—Nazis in cloaks and armed with swords—and magic is suzerain over realms where twentieth-century science holds sway, where love is inflamed within the arterial passions of the romantic, perduring and encompassing though it progresses within tropes of courtship and calling interwoven with the streams of fate, where petty beings from the outliers of a world contested by mighty powers prove the enduring significance of the strength and fidelity of the individual will over seemingly stronger currents sourced within the misty recesses of time and bearing loftier lineages, where the freedoms cherished are not those currently stressed and promised by our political professionals and the bonds of honor hold straighter than those we perceive in our own lives, where those in power, though bowed beneath the weight of shadow-laden years, might yet endeavor to do what serves the world and not just their immediate self-interest; all of this must carry some powerful, primeval attraction that—combined with the aesthetic and geographical wonders of a travelogue, the eldritch presence of creatures and beings sown from human myth and fertilized by the author's potent demiurgical imagination, and the thrilling suspense of a chase/race to potentially the most apocalyptic of ends—finds a way to reach that part of the mind where such fantastic delights serve as satiating fare, and in which this popular escapism can be engirt with a morality now out of fashion but held necessary to burnish the imaginary with the gloss of both the good and the real—not to mention the fun.

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING (BOOK 1)

I have been slowly rereading The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien over the last few months and I’ve loved every moment of it. I read these fantasy books years ago, and I used to watch the films over and over again, so this is a series that has shaped my life.

The Fellowship of the Ring is a fantastic introduction to The Lord of the Rings. We begin the story in the Shire with Frodo and Bilbo Baggins. I love the Shire. It’s depicted in such a way that you can’t help but wish that you could live there!

It’s full of cheery hobbits who are eating, drinking, singing, growing crops, or smoking. It’s a relaxing life and makes for a wonderful few chapters.

If you read this book without knowing anything about the series then you might think that the ending of The Fellowship of the Rings doesn’t feel quite right – there isn’t an overarching plot as such.

That’s because you need to read the whole trilogy – or better yet, the full The Lord of the Rings book – as that is how the story is designed to be consumed. I’m not a fan of the structure of the individual books, but that doesn’t mean The Fellowship of the Ring is bad in any way!

The first part can feel a little slow, but as soon as Frodo, Pippin, Merry, and Sam leave the Shire, the story really does take off. The main threat of this book is the Nazgûl, and they are terrifying! They are chasing the ring and have the name “Baggins” to search with.

History, lore, and language in The Fellowship of the Rings are incredible. Songs and poems are often told, depicting grand adventures or love stories – tales that have been told over decades. The amount of worldbuilding that J. R. R. Tolkien managed to slip into dialogue and descriptions without having huge exposition dumps is frustratingly incredible.

If you don’t fall in love with the story, then you’ll fall in love with the characters or the world or its history or the complexity of names and language. There is so much to appreciate in this book that I don’t think I could ever reread it enough in my lifetime to soak in every last detail.

THE TWO TOWERS (BOOK 2)

-possible spoilers for The Fellowship of the Ring-

Two stories are written in parallel to one another, rather than chronologically, so this review for The Two Towers by J. R. R. Tolkien will be done in two parts.

The book begins (essentially) with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli following Saruman’s Uruk-hai
This plotline leads us to seeing and experiencing much more of Tolkien’s world than we had in The Fellowship of the Ring. This is where the story becomes epic – in every sense.

A lot of the information we get in The Two Towers is done through dialogue – whether that is the main characters talking to one another, or them overhearing other characters talking.

It’s a writing style that was a little jarring at first, but when the plot of The Two Towers starts to take over from what has been told (the “off-screen” scenes), it begins to pick up the pace and we are soon wrapped up in the adventure.

There are several moments of great character development with certain characters. It’s wonderful to see such complexity in the characters, and to watch as they grow and begin to fend for themselves.

There is a battle at one point (generalising so there are no spoilers) which is incredible. I’ve never read a battle depicted in such beautifully crafted language.

Unlike a lot of modern fantasy, the scenes are of course more classic, heroic scenes, rather than the brutal stuff we see in R. F. Kuang’s The Poppy War or George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire. The scenes are, however, filled with tension and sometimes it’s nice to feel like we’re witnessing an epic adventure from classical myths.

The second plot arc follows Sam and Frodo as they make their way to destroy the ring
This is the slower of the two stories in The Two Towers, but it’s still fantastic as we see even more of the world and experience the wonderful friendship of the two hobbits. I think we can all agree that Sam is the best friend we all want in our lives.

The complexity of Gollum’s character was surprising as so often in fantasy from this era, the villains are just evil, but Gollum is of two minds and there are moments where we see him from Frodo’s perspective where we not only feel sorry for him too, but might also trust him.

Overall, this book has one story arc (the Aragorn plot) that feels like a complete story and the other is more of a bridging arc (Frodo and Sam) for what is to come in The Return of the King.

We see so much more of the world than in The Fellowship of the Ring and it’s wonderful to experience both the complex present and deep histories through the eyes of our main characters.

THE RETURN OF THE KING (BOOK 3)

-possible spoilers for The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers-

The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien is one of the most satisfying and epic conclusions to a fantasy series. The plot splits off even more than in The Two Towers, so there are more arcs and characters to follow, and even more of the world to experience and explore.

Gandalf and Pippin’s storyline in The Return of the King is one of my favourites. Denethor – the Steward of Gondor – is an incredible character – he’s incredibly loyal to the world of men, but he’s broken and that is his greatest flaw.

I was surprised by how much I respected him, even with the events that occur. Pippin, however, manages to surpass all expectations and develops into a real heroic character through the threats that he faces.

Merry, like Perrin, also develops very quickly into an unlikely heroic character. Tolkien seemed to want his heroes to be the little guys who were full of honesty, love, and loyalty. The hobbits often surpass even Aragorn in their bravery and heroic accomplishments.

Despite Aragorn being such a strong character in the previous two books, the first third of his arc in The Return of the King was almost a disappointment in comparison.

His victory felt cheap, but he soon redeemed himself in the final third. Again, I do believe that this was supposed to be the case, with the hobbits becoming the more heroic characters. His actions after the battle at Minas Tirith really did do an incredible job of showing that he deserves the respect, loyalty, and love of his people.

Sam and Frodo’s final journey is surprisingly character driven. The plot might be driven by the events of the world around them, but it is their character arcs which make their scenes feel so real.

Frodo struggles against the power of the ring, and Sam’s loyalty to Frodo – as well as his resistance to the ring – is a remarkable work of characterisation. Their story is one of strong friendship and love – something that I feel that many books could continue to learn from.

The finale goodbyes are surprisingly emotional, but the way Tolkien wraps up every arc in The Return of the King in a satisfying conclusion is wonderful. It may not feel as realistic as some more modern fantasy, but because of the style this book is written in, it feels right.

To have it done any other way would feel jarring – this is a heroic story of epic proportions, so it’s just right when our heroes find the peace they deserve.

Those books that balloon into virulent, lethal pop-culture viruses that feast on disinterested bystanders. You try to flee them by hiding in a disused warehouse under a soiled mattress in the Democratic Republic of Congo, but Frodo and his friends will find you eventually and pull you into their lair of medieval gimps called Bilbo and Bongo on an implausibly long and homoerotic quest for a misplaced ring. Did they look behind the sofa? Under the fridge? This whole quest could have been avoided! But here’s what I resent about Lord of the Rings. I have been physically, cosmically unable to avoid it. And that hurts. One thing I pride in life is my ability to avoid participating in popular culture in its many-tentacled forms. Since the creation of Dungeons & Dragons and the games it spawned I have been on countless pointless quests for rings. How many rings did I pick up in Sonic the Hedgehog? Millions. Computer programmers adopted this book as their bible, and the subsequent two decades of game innovation (which I addictively participated in) took their “plot” templates from Tolkien. When I left this world, a series of blockbusting films filled up the media pipes like fast-acting carbon monoxide being pumped into my front room year after year as the endless insufferable saga to find a missing fucking ring droned on and on infecting comedies, dramas, films and books with reference after reference after reference. How dare you, Lord of the Rings, invade my cultural happy place so brutally, you ubiquitous beardy bastard? Why can’t you leave me alone? Your ubiquity has devalued any artistic merit the books might have had for me completely. Happy now?

Nevertheless, here are my little LOTR reviews of each volume:
• The Fellowship of the Ring
• The Two Towers
• The Return of the King


Lego Legolas!