Showing posts with label The Lord of the Rings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Lord of the Rings. Show all posts

Monday, August 13, 2012

The Triumph of Despair

Suicide’s Note

The calm,
Cool face of the river,
Asked me for a kiss.

-Langston Hughes

Richard Cory

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

-Edwin Arlington Robinson



This morning, in my poetry textbook, I read Suicide’s Note, by Langston Hughes. Unlike the longer, more elaborate poetry that I had been reading, this struck me as being extremely informal and, well, slightly silly. But after a few seconds, I realized that this was much more subtle than that. The image, brief as it is, paints a very full picture – and that’s a difficult thing to do with as little space as was allowed. A still, glassy, black pool of water, beckoning, enfolding the poet in a cold and deadly embrace. He sinks into the water, only to realize that the siren’s call has become his death.

Contrast Suicide’s Note with the poem, Richard Cory. Immediately, one hears the difference in tone and meter, which add a very different feeling to the story. With Richard Cory, there is a pattern of four-line paragraphs, with the a-b-a-b rhyming scheme. The imagery is light-hearted, the character or Cory puts one in mind of a Lord Peter Wimsey figure, immaculately mannered, charming—the social ideal. Cory is idolized by the poet(s); he couldn’t possibly make a faux pas, perfect wife, perfect family, butter wouldn’t melt – etc. Wouldn’t you want to be Richard Cory?

You know the type.

He has everything you’d ever want – charisma, wealth, manners, popularity. He’s that CEO who everybody likes, despite. People scrimp and save, longing to be their idol.


“And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.”
 
And that is what makes the poem’s end so effective: idols are always flawed. No man is perfect, appearances are deceiving. The poet is brilliant to keep the tone light-hearted and jaunty…right up until the fatal moment. That’s what suicide is like in real life – not melodramatic and mythic like Suicide’s Note, but quick, brutal and catastrophic. It is the triumph of despair and loneliness.

This is why so many people are devastated with the fall of pastors, actors, philanthropists and other “good” public figures, who had gained their trust. As Ravi Zacharias says, why should we be surprised when those we consider “holy” fall? Being a pastor does not change the desperate depravity of the human heart. Everyone, even and especially they, are subject to temptations and despair.

The current tagline of my novel, Raven’s Death, sums it up: “Judge not by sight. Secrets remain hidden because they are not clearly seen.” Well, it needs some work, but it’s supposed to be a maxim in my fantasy land, Mordreal, and I was trying to make it sound…proverby.


But here's the flipside: martyrdom. Suicide is much different than martyrdom. Many people have asked Christians why we condemn one and glorify the other. That is because there is a fundamental difference in the motives. Hear it from he who always says it best:

About the same time I read a solemn flippancy by some free thinker: he said that a suicide was only the same as a martyr. The open fallacy of this helped to clear the question. Obviously a suicide is the opposite of a martyr. A martyr is a man who cares so much for something outside him, that he forgets his own personal life. A suicide is a man who cares so little for anything outside him, that he wants to see the last of everything. One wants something to begin: the other wants everything to end. In other words, the martyr is noble, exactly because (however he renounces the world or execrates all humanity) he confesses this ultimate link with life; he sets his heart outside himself: he dies that something may live. The suicide is ignoble because he has not this link with being: he is a mere destroyer; spiritually, he destroys the universe.

-G.K. Chesterton
Suicide is the triumph of despair, abandoning and not "so loving" the world. Tolkien demonstrates this in many ways in The Lord of the Rings:

“Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death,” answered Gandalf. “And only the heathen kings, under the domination of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair, murdering their kin to ease their own death . . . Come! We are needed. There is much that you can do.”

-Return of the King
I just discovered an article that follows the Chesterton-Tolkien connection even further; it's great. Check it out here.

There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo,
Longish
Neo-Mayberry, Middle of Nowhere, America

Monday, July 30, 2012

The Road Goes Even On and On (and on...)

Well, the news has broken. Like an expensive vase. The rumors (which I steadfastedly refused to believe) have been confirmed. Sir Peter Jackson announced on Facebook this morning that there would be a third Hobbit movie.

WHAT?

I'm not quite sure what I thinks, precious. When I first heard the rumors, I dismissed them, and even when I tried to take it seriously, it was all a little unbelievable. Two Hobbit movies was stretching the material pretty thin, but three? Even Peter Jackson couldn't push that far. Well, I guess he can. He has said that a lot of information from the RotK's appendices will be used, which is encouraging. But still, when I first heard the news, I, even I, the die-hard fan, was anxious.

I've realized that ultimately, it gets down to this: How much do we trust Peter Jackson?

I was too young to be involved in the excitement preceding LotR's release, but I do know that no one (outside a few insiders) expected much - nothing like what we got. Some no-name director from New Zealand blew the world away and swept the Academy Awards. Peter Jackson took the UK's favorite trilogy (that no one ever thought would be done justice in the cinema) and performed a miracle. I'm convinced that no one else could have created such a masterpiece with such a difficult book. There must be something about Peter Jackson that inspires people to do their absolute best, because the performance from ever sector was phenomenal. Or maybe he just used magic.

That's it!



The man is a wizard. Of course he make another Hobbit film and do Tolkien justice. One of the comments on this post (which says basically what I just said, only better) on The Rabbit Room says it best (and the commenter may or may not be my dad):

"Tom Bombadil: Hey dol! Merry dol! Why be ye troubled me hearties! Ol’ Pete’s behind the camera with a steady hand and eye. I’ve been a-running through the meadows and know the River Daughter. Trusty Pete! Rusty Pete! Have no more of dragons and dark lords! To New Zealand I will go!
And 3D is waiting….."

PJ all the way,

[7/25/2014 - in retrospect, this is a very sad post.]

Longish
Neo-Mayberry, Middle of Nowhere, America

Thursday, July 19, 2012

In Defense of Tom Bombadil


Source
"Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster."
The Fellowship of the Ring "Chapter 8: Fog on the Barrow-Downs."


Tom Bombadil is a mystery. Whenever I come to his brief cameo in The Lord of the Rings, I leave him feeling somewhat confused and definitely amused. Most of the time, I’m content to let him fall into the Tolkien’s Loose Ends category, along with the entwives and the secret of hobbits' origin, which, if we’re honest, is probably exactly where they belong.

 Just a cursory search on Google is enough to show that many people have devoted considerable time to cracking the Bombadil code. I don’t pretend to be one of them. I’m not really a Tolkien scholar; I’ve never even read Unfinished Tales (though I really want to), and I only read The Silmarillion once a few years ago. I try my best not to be drawn into stories to the extent that I start quoting and cross-examining them like the Bible (see the Baker Street Irregulars), all the same, it’s always fun to speculate about these things.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Hello, Public.


"Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
-G.K. Chesterton
Greetings, dear web-cruising friend, you have stumbled onto the first post of what will be a very interesting blog. Or, at least, if you’re interested in dry wit, philosophy, theology, high fantasy, mystery and politics, it will be interesting.

To begin, a little about Me, Myself and You. I’m from a small town in the middle of nowhere. You could probably find it on Google Earth – Middle of Nowhere, America. But I digress. In this small town, things are as much like Mayberry as they can possibly be outside of idealistic (but very good and absolutely hilarious) TV shows from the ’60s. I’m even more isolated than most Middle of Nowhere citizens, living in a house on a hill surrounded by trees, mountains, wild possums and several magical portals.


Neo-Mayberry, view to the South

The internet, most days, is my only connection with the outside world. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m out of touch with reality. I keep up with current events more than most people, especially those my age. Though my interest in politics has declined over the last few years (mostly into Deep Disgust), I do keep up with the latest Big Gov fiascos.

I have a rapacious interest in books. Right now, the current trend is murder mysteries, so expect plenty on that subject—though my long-lived obsession with The Lord of the Rings will doubtless seep through. Perhaps an occasional Ode to G.K. Chesterton’s Epicness will appear as well. Bear with those, or even better, get some Chesterton and read it.

Now.

I’m also a writer, and I’ll use some of the time that I should spend editing and novelling in telling you all about how great my writing is and what’s up with my many half-finished books. Don’t believe my bragging and believe all of my criticism.

As you’ve probably noticed by now, I use sarcasm liberally, but I can’t stand the negative tear-people-down type of sarcasm, so I try my best not to be that cynical. Yet, when used correctly (and with a British accent) sarcasm can be hilarious. And by the way, it isn't "the lowest form of wit" as the saying goes - watch the average YouTube video that has FUnNY!!!_! in the title, and you'll agree with me.

At times, I might write a random essay on something that interests me. This is very possible. I’m working my way to the SAT’s, so I need the practice. Rate them, if you like. I need the help.

So now you’ve heard about the Me and Myself, so let’s talk about You. You’re the Audience. Don’t expect to be catered to; I probably won’t be very consistent in topics. I’m writing letters to myself, really. But I love to get feedback, all the same, so even if you turn up just for the writing posts, or the political posts, or even the dry wit posts, I would love to hear from you. Just keep it civil and on topic, thanks.

In conclusion, I may write in fragments. If there are any web-cruising grammar teachers out there. Give me. A break. Please.


Half-sincerely,

Longish
Neo-Mayberry, Middle of Nowhere, America