I feel like I need to give it some kind of closure: what started off this past year as a New Year's Resolution/personal reading and writing project began with zeal and vigor, but ground to a halt with the onset of flu season at home: everyone went down. When? Why, fourteen days into 2013, of course, and thus ended the first noble attempt at a Tolkien 365 project, 14 days in. Still, two weeks? Not bad, I think.
We're a little over a month away from another New Year... maybe this time a slightly more tempered goal. "Tolkien 52"? Not quite the same ring, but I can work out another name for version 2.0.
Monday, November 25, 2013
NCTE
Went to the annual National Council of Teachers of English conference in Boston on Friday for the first time. Great experience! Highlights included a reading by poet Tino Villanueva from his book So Spoke Penelope, (followed by getting my book signed and having a short, friendly conversation with him about the joy of discovering Homer), an invigorating and incisive talk from Bruce Novak (Indiana University of Pennsylvania, Indiana) on "The True Common Core," which, his thesis goes, the Common Core State Standards skirt, and finally, roaming the exposition hall, visiting vendor booths, and getting free stuff (books, movie tickets, even a cafe latte!). It was like a small bubble of an alternate universe where there were perks to being an English teacher. Surreal, fun, informative, and energizing.
Friday, January 18, 2013
14. Growing with Books
Here's something I came across while preparing for class the other day:
Let us not divide the human race into Eloi and Morlocks: pretty children -- "elves" as the eighteenth century often idiotically called them -- with their fairy-tales (carefully pruned), and dark Morlocks tending their machines. If fairy-story as a kind is worth reading at all it is worthy to be written for and read by adults. They will, of course, put more in and get more out than children can. Then, as a branch of a genuine art, children may hope to get fairy-stories fit for them to read and yet within their measure; as they may hope to get suitable introductions to poetry, history, and the sciences. Though it may be better for them to read some things, especially fairy-stories, that are beyond their measure rather than short of it. Their books like their clothes should allow for growth, and their books at any rate should encourage it. ("On Fairy Stories," page 45, from Tree and Leaf in The Tolkien Reader, 1966)
Tokien's two novels can work well together to achieve this purpose. The Hobbit, written for children, with its whimsical tone and light hearted treatment of frightening things, along with its Hobbit's-eye glimpses of a large, ancient, and complex world, forms a training ground where young readers can grow familiar with Tolkien's setting in particular and with the "fairy-story" in general. Readers' accounts of how they discovered Tolkien often repeat a similar theme: discovery at a young age, and continual re-reading through maturity. (Neil Gaiman, for instance). They grow with these books and are likewise prompted to growth by them. Some of my students have reported similar experiences with Harry Potter, particularly the ones who grew up parallel to Harry as the books were published. They grew in maturity with Harry and also grew as readers as the books grew in length, depth, and complexity--as if a single, favorite childhood coat could grow with you into adulthood, comfortably worn and familiar.
My own introduction to Tolkien followed a similar path. I first read The Hobbit in the summer between fourth and fifth grades, in a hand-me-down paperback from my older brother. (I have a vivid memory of reading it while lying in the shade near the vending machines at our local public pool, a place more precious to me for summer reading than swimming, as poolsides still are for me now). In fifth grade, I remember wanting to go on to read The Lord of the Rings (this time in battered, flea market paperbacks that someone in my family had acquired for me). My teacher rightly expressed a concern that, however accessible The Hobbit was, the larger book might be a bit too challenging for me. I honestly can't recall whether or not I took her advice and waited until 6th grade. The only clear memory I have of my first reading of the trilogy was on a family weekend trip to the Adirondacks in the fall: I was lying in bed (a decrepit living room couch) in front of a dying fire late at night, everyone else asleep, in a lakeside cabin (the one pictured above). We took many such trips then, including ones I remember in both the fifth and sixth grades--this might have been either. I do know the chapters that kept me up were the final ones of The Two Towers, when Shelob attacks and Frodo is lost.
Indeed, the books were "beyond my measure," to use Tolkien's phrase. But they allowed for growth--re-readings, rediscoveries, and new realizations were numerous and continue to be--and most certainly encouraged it. And also true to Tolkien's point, I "put more in and get more out" than I did then. Every year that I teach The Hobbit, I'm amazed to see something new in that deceptively simple tale--the same one that I read and enjoyed as an almost-fifth-grader--that I haven't seen before.
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
Let us not divide the human race into Eloi and Morlocks: pretty children -- "elves" as the eighteenth century often idiotically called them -- with their fairy-tales (carefully pruned), and dark Morlocks tending their machines. If fairy-story as a kind is worth reading at all it is worthy to be written for and read by adults. They will, of course, put more in and get more out than children can. Then, as a branch of a genuine art, children may hope to get fairy-stories fit for them to read and yet within their measure; as they may hope to get suitable introductions to poetry, history, and the sciences. Though it may be better for them to read some things, especially fairy-stories, that are beyond their measure rather than short of it. Their books like their clothes should allow for growth, and their books at any rate should encourage it. ("On Fairy Stories," page 45, from Tree and Leaf in The Tolkien Reader, 1966)
Tokien's two novels can work well together to achieve this purpose. The Hobbit, written for children, with its whimsical tone and light hearted treatment of frightening things, along with its Hobbit's-eye glimpses of a large, ancient, and complex world, forms a training ground where young readers can grow familiar with Tolkien's setting in particular and with the "fairy-story" in general. Readers' accounts of how they discovered Tolkien often repeat a similar theme: discovery at a young age, and continual re-reading through maturity. (Neil Gaiman, for instance). They grow with these books and are likewise prompted to growth by them. Some of my students have reported similar experiences with Harry Potter, particularly the ones who grew up parallel to Harry as the books were published. They grew in maturity with Harry and also grew as readers as the books grew in length, depth, and complexity--as if a single, favorite childhood coat could grow with you into adulthood, comfortably worn and familiar.
My own introduction to Tolkien followed a similar path. I first read The Hobbit in the summer between fourth and fifth grades, in a hand-me-down paperback from my older brother. (I have a vivid memory of reading it while lying in the shade near the vending machines at our local public pool, a place more precious to me for summer reading than swimming, as poolsides still are for me now). In fifth grade, I remember wanting to go on to read The Lord of the Rings (this time in battered, flea market paperbacks that someone in my family had acquired for me). My teacher rightly expressed a concern that, however accessible The Hobbit was, the larger book might be a bit too challenging for me. I honestly can't recall whether or not I took her advice and waited until 6th grade. The only clear memory I have of my first reading of the trilogy was on a family weekend trip to the Adirondacks in the fall: I was lying in bed (a decrepit living room couch) in front of a dying fire late at night, everyone else asleep, in a lakeside cabin (the one pictured above). We took many such trips then, including ones I remember in both the fifth and sixth grades--this might have been either. I do know the chapters that kept me up were the final ones of The Two Towers, when Shelob attacks and Frodo is lost.
Indeed, the books were "beyond my measure," to use Tolkien's phrase. But they allowed for growth--re-readings, rediscoveries, and new realizations were numerous and continue to be--and most certainly encouraged it. And also true to Tolkien's point, I "put more in and get more out" than I did then. Every year that I teach The Hobbit, I'm amazed to see something new in that deceptively simple tale--the same one that I read and enjoyed as an almost-fifth-grader--that I haven't seen before.
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
13. "Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones."
'All right!' said Pippin. 'I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard! I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it.'
'That settles it!' said Frodo. 'Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all cost we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?'
'I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam (in spite of private misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing). (97)
Here's one difference between reading LotR as a kid and as an adult: an appreciation for good beer with good company! Poor Sam. (As a side note, these early chapters are why a walking tour in the Cotswolds is on my bucket list).
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
'That settles it!' said Frodo. 'Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all cost we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?'
'I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam (in spite of private misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing). (97)
Here's one difference between reading LotR as a kid and as an adult: an appreciation for good beer with good company! Poor Sam. (As a side note, these early chapters are why a walking tour in the Cotswolds is on my bucket list).
Saturday, January 12, 2013
12. "Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes."
'Elves seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning yourself; and how then shall I choose better than you?' (FotR 93).
Good advice from Gildor Inglorion (great name, no?) about advice. Frodo's encounter with the elves in the Shire is one of my favorite scenes of Book I--full of good stuff. Check it out if all you can remember is Peter Jackson's Fellowship. And yes, that was advice, but I doubt its course will run ill. :)
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
Friday, January 11, 2013
11. Temptation
'No!' cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. 'With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.' His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. 'Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it. Great perils lie before me' (FotR 71).
Here is a great, humanizing passage for Gandalf. His character is so easily mis-rememberd as a simplistic, cliched, all-knowing, all-powerful guide for the incapable hobbits, but this is far from the truth. What a revealing insight into his innermost hopes and fears. And how convincing a portrayal of temptation! "No! . . . Do not tempt me! . . . Do not tempt me!" goes the refrain of the passage. "I dare not take it . . . I shall have such need of it," goes his internal struggle. "Great perils" indeed!
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
Here is a great, humanizing passage for Gandalf. His character is so easily mis-rememberd as a simplistic, cliched, all-knowing, all-powerful guide for the incapable hobbits, but this is far from the truth. What a revealing insight into his innermost hopes and fears. And how convincing a portrayal of temptation! "No! . . . Do not tempt me! . . . Do not tempt me!" goes the refrain of the passage. "I dare not take it . . . I shall have such need of it," goes his internal struggle. "Great perils" indeed!
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
10. Bilbo's Pity
'What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'
'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he was been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity' (FotR 68-69).
Pity is so underrated. And when most people feel "pity," I tend to think it's the sort where they feel superior to some object of their pity, rather than the sort that Bilbo feels, a sense that my freedom from the suffering I see in another is but a blessing, and often a temporary one at that: "There go I, but for the grace of God." Bilbo's pity is not one of superiority but of equality: he sees Gollum in himself and himself in Gollum. (It's the same pity that Frodo will learn to have Gollum later on). True pity, it would seem, is born of one's own humility.
Here's the moment from The Hobbit that Gandalf and Frodo are discussing:
'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he was been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity' (FotR 68-69).
Pity is so underrated. And when most people feel "pity," I tend to think it's the sort where they feel superior to some object of their pity, rather than the sort that Bilbo feels, a sense that my freedom from the suffering I see in another is but a blessing, and often a temporary one at that: "There go I, but for the grace of God." Bilbo's pity is not one of superiority but of equality: he sees Gollum in himself and himself in Gollum. (It's the same pity that Frodo will learn to have Gollum later on). True pity, it would seem, is born of one's own humility.
Here's the moment from The Hobbit that Gandalf and Frodo are discussing:
[Bilbo] must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out, kill it. [Gollum] meant to kill him. No, not a fair fight. He was invisible now. Gollum had no sword. Gollum had not actually threatened to kill him, or tried to yet. And he was miserable, alone, lost. A sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart: a glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. All these thoughts passed in a flash of a second. he trembled. And then quite suddenly in another flash, as if lifted by a new strength and resolve, he leaped. (119)(And this is why Bilbo's violent, ninja-hobbit outburst at the end of the first Hobbit film was so offensive... not to mention inconsistent with his character in both movie and book).
"Tolkien 365" is a (hopefully) daily reflection on a quote from the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, beginning with The Lord of the Rings and branching into his other writings as opportunity and inspiration allow. Comments are especially welcome. Page references are from the hardcover American Second Edition, published by Houghton Mifflin.
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