After starting The Hobbit Party, I had to finally read The Hobbit. Growing up, I read many terrible science fiction and fantasy novels. In high school, I discovered Terry Pratchett and he has been one of my favorite authors throughout every stage of my life so far.
The Hobbit was this weird thing… I actively avoided reading it for many years. My dad suggested I read it when I was little, and he must have caught me in a mood, because I refused. It’s so strange because I inherited my taste in books, movies, TV shows, etc., from my Dad, so if he recommended something to me, I would probably like it. He suggested I read I,Robot by Isaac Asimov and I loved it. (Will Smith ruined it!)
When Peter Jackson’s LotR movies came out, we went to see them together. I wanted to see the movies before reading the books because I knew the books would be better. I’ve made a habit of this. If I read the book first, I end up sitting through the whole movie cataloging all the differences and it’s not fun. After The Two Towers, I couldn’t wait anymore, so I had to read the whole series to find out what happened. That was the first and only time I have read The Lord of the Rings series. I also read most of The Silmarillion. Still refused to read The Hobbit.
Then, Peter Jackson did a trilogy of The Hobbit. Now that I’ve seen the movie–or, 2 out of 3 at least– I can read the book. So I did.
I have definitely missed out on some kind of magic by waiting until adulthood to read The Hobbit. Part of the problem is that Terry Pratchett has satirized so much of Tolkien’s work, in a loving and respectful way, that The Hobbit didn’t hold anything new for me. That was compounded by my having already seen the movies and read some detailed literary criticism. If I ever have kids, we are going to read all of Tolkien’s work while they’re young enough to feel the magic.
I want to re-read The Lord of the Rings before continuing with The Hobbit Party. I’ve been slowly reading The Fellowship of the Ring. As I started to dig in, I thought, “So this is what it’s like to read a book that wasn’t written for the sake of being made into a movie.” It’s a book written to be a book. I have been reading YA fiction (Divergent, The Maze Runner), fast-paced, plot-driven, dystopic novels. I love the genre, but those books are not very good. They needed one more editorial pass through, more plot-structure… the stories are good and the futuristic worlds are vivid, but the publishing seemed rushed so that the author and publisher could collect on the movie rights.
The Lord of the Rings, however, was written for readers who will spend many afternoons, basking in the sunshine, and absorbing the multi-layered narrative.
Neal Stephenson writes book-books. Whenever I read Stephenson, I’m always surprised and delighted. I feel like my brain gets a workout. That’s the point of reading: to be introduced to new ideas/worlds/concepts. The fast-paced, plot-driven books are exciting, but they tend to feed me what I already know I like. Reading The Fellowship of the Ring, for the first time in over 10 years, I’m having a hard time getting motivated to sit still for several hours to enjoy it– because several hours is what it will take. I need to be willing to shut out my world: my Facebook arguments, the political news and commentary, my bills, my job search, my volunteer work… all of that has to be blocked out, so that I can focus on the journey with Frodo.
I get the sense that this kind of book isn’t what I need right now. As an adolescent, I loved escaping into my books. As an adult, I love my independent life– I don’t need to escape. So why bother slogging through the trilogy? Well, I want to find what the book offers besides escapism, maybe a better understanding of the English language, or Western culture. Maybe I will enjoy the discipline of shutting out the world, taking in every sentence, reading slowly.
Chapter 7 of The Hobbit Party discusses Tolkien’s love for nature. I remember watching The Two Towers in the theater, when Treebeard describes Saruman has having “a mind of metal and wheels ;and he does not care for growing things, except as far as they serve him for a moment.”
Tolkien’s attitude toward the industrial revolution always made me uncomfortable. Growing up, my family would regularly go hiking or camping and I still love to escape from the city to be among trees and water.
A 2010 study asked 280 subjects in Japan to take strolls in both the park and the city. After the nature walks, the participants showed lower “concentrations of the stress hormone cortisol, lower pulse rate, lower blood pressure.” Strolling through parks is apparently a popular hobby in Japan, and goes by the poetic and slightly racy name of “forest bathing.”
On the other hand, the kind of people who generally speak out about protecting the environment are also the kind of people who tend to place little value on human life. They also tend to support laws that violate property rights–which I cannot support.
And so, Witt and Richards come to the man responsible for an inordinate amount of anxiety I suffered in college: Rousseau.
One mistake that Tolkien-appreciating contemporary environmentalists seem prone to is seeing Tolkien as a kissing cousin of eighteenth-century French philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau… The English writer and psychiatrist Theodore Dalyrmple summarizes Rousseau’s view as “the complete opposite of the idea that man is born with original sin”, and suggests that it spread quickly through Western culture “because it means all you have to do to be good is to be your true self, and since your true self is really determined, you know what your true self is by doing exactly what you like.” The idea does more than excuse bad behavior, Dalrymple emphasizes. On Rousseau’s telling, “doing what you like, exactly what you like, becomes virtue, which is one of the reasons, for example, why in this country now, people who get very drunk in public believe that they’re acting virtuously”
We’re back to hippies. “Be true to yourself” is a nice concept, but it also forgives a lot of selfishness. Virtue is not about acting on impulse or instinct, but rather, recognizing that serving others’ needs actually makes us better and happier. Humans constantly struggle with the conflict between short-term satisfaction and long-term satisfaction, just ask the diet and fitness industry. It’s not that “be true to yourself” is wrong, we just have to be clear what it means in practice. Jacobs wrote in Drop Dead Healthy that he took a picture of himself and ran it through some aging software. He used the picture of his future self for motivation to eat healthy and exercise, being true to his future self who will want to play with grandchildren and remember their names. That picture reminded him of long-term satisfaction, which helped him deny short-term temptation to sit around and eat junk food.
I always get lost in these trains of thought… For example, communities with strong familial bonds show high incidence of longevity, because maintaining relationships is healthy. So is it selfish to maintain a friendship because of the ultimate benefit? Or is it unselfish, because you’re considering another’s needs? I suppose it’s both, and doesn’t really matter.
As for environmentalism, it does not make sense to simply leave nature to its own devices. The Hobbit Party cites Matthew Dickerson and Jonathan Evans who identify Tolkien’s attitude as “humans are best seen as both managers and servants, gardening a natural order that is useful but also valuable in its own right.” This reminds me of Pride and Prejudice, when Elizabeth first sees Mr. Darcy’s home of Pemberley.
Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
Earlier in the novel, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s home serves as the example of awkward taste. Pemberley provides a beautiful, orderly home for the Darcys without disrupting the natural resources of the country side. Humans and nature coexist harmoniously at Pemberley, same as the Shire. The presence of human civilization does not automatically cause the destruction of nature, as Rousseau and his intellectual progeny believe. Rather, as in the Garden of Eden, we are here to serve as caretakers.
My mom gave me this book for Christmas, after I made her listen to the Tom Woods Show podcast during our Thanksgiving road trip. It’s called The Hobbit Party by Jonathan Witt and Jay W. Richards. This book was pretty much written exactly for me, because it blends my love of fantasy with my love for economics and libertarian political philosophy. As a bonus, there’s a bit of theology as well:
Tom Bombadil is, among other things, an exercise in one of the great theological what-ifs–what if God had created a species of flesh and blood, made in his image, but one that never reached for the forbidden fruit, never sinned, never fell? Would such a person be a naive, insipid figure of innocence? No, because goodness does not require evil to complete it. Instead, as an intimate friend and steward of the Creator, he would be far more likely to develop something of the verve and fearless authority–the joyful exuberance, the playfulness, and magnanimity–of a Tom Bombadil.
I love this description of Tom Bombadil. It reminds me of Kierkegaard’s man of faith in Fear and Trembling.
Witt and Richards make the distinction between a hippie-quality of valuing disorder and self, and the Christian quality of hospitality. I remember discussing the Ancient Greek concept of “Xenia” which is also the quality that Abraham and and Lot expressed when they protected strangers in their homes– those strangers turned out to be angels. The Christian tradition of putting others needs before self, and Bilbo’s observance of propriety that demands hospitality, are what give Bilbo the strength to overcome his fear, to overcome the instinct for self-preservation. Thus, he becomes a hero.
This explication clarified for me a discomfort I always had for hippie culture. I love the music and freedom that hippie culture values, but I always felt a disconnect from the culture. Witt and Richards identified the cause for my disconnection: it’s self-centeredness, or solipsism (one of my favorite words). More importantly, a culture that places value on hospitality also places value on welcoming people and ideas who are different. You can certainly see a lack of openness on many college campuses today. Check out these draconian speech codes, compiled by Foundation for Individual Rights in Education.
[This] degraded view of custom and courtesy, far from being merely cosmetic, threatens our capacity to sustain culture and forge authentic connections with other people and peoples. The loss of courtesy in the older and richer sense of the term signals a growing inability to connect with anyone but our own increasingly limited selves.
In other words, it sounds lovely to be free from schedules and bourgeois obligations, to focus on the intangible benefits of loving people freely. On the other hand, if you can’t keep a date or are regularly late to meet up with loved ones, you disrespect their time and show love of self, not love of others.
I don’t usually identify myself as a conservative, but Tolkien’s flavor of conservatism, as described in The Hobbit Party, is something with which I can identify. It’s a devotion to order and custom, specifically courtesy. Courtesy, on a broader scale, becomes respect for the rule of law, respect for a consistent process. Rule of law requires all parties to agree to contracts and rules of order so that cooperation can occur. This book describes the game of riddles between Bilbo and Gollum. Bilbo accidentally asked, “What’s in my pocket?” and Gollum treats it as a riddle in the game, although Bilbo and the author recognize that it isn’t. You could justify Bilbo’s cheating by saying his life was in danger, that Gollum is evil, so what does it matter if he cheats a bit? I see this type of reasoning all the time, because I work in politics. This reasoning values the self over others; it’s dangerous because it is egotistical. We play by the rules because we recognize that our perspective is not the only perspective. We play by the rules because we are humble. It’s for this reason that the CIA should not torture prisoners of war, regardless of who signed which treaties.