I still remember that when I first became obsessed with Middle
Earth, one of the arguments I used to convince my mother of its brilliance was “The
author even created 17 languages to substantiate his world!” Well, it was not
clear from where I got the number 17 (or whether my mother was impressed), but
it is clear that I got the precedence entirely wrong. Language is not a trick
that Tolkien uses to make Middle Earth sound real. It does achieve the same
effect very well, but not by the virtue of existence. “The invention of
languages is the foundation. The ‘stories’ were made rather to provide a world
for the languages than the reverse,” wrote Tolkien in Letter 165. It is a
foundation to the genesis of the stories, but more importantly it is also fundamental
to our experience of Middle Earth.
Inner Consistency
In his lecture “On the Fairy Tales”, Tolkien brought up the concept
of “inner consistency” as a key to successful Fantasy. While unlimited freedom
in Fantasy allows unlimited possibilities, it also infinitely increases the possibility
of “falling apart.” Building a substantial story is more difficult than
building with object because it adds the 4th dimension of time yet
subtracts the concreteness of tangible objects. But proper use of languages
indigenous to the Fantasyland can provide structural support to the very world
in which they exist. Languages do change slowly, but they “cannot assign
meaning randomly” (HME9, 239), hence the magnitude of change in language is
easier to monitor than in a blank universe that is ready to be filled with
anything. At the same time, languages, like insects, leave their shells behind
after each stage of metamorphosis. These relics include the names of people, of
cities and of mountains and rivers, which in turn are essential components of a
tale. They can be the threads and marks that guide the flow of time. In the
series of the Lost Road, the various form of the name “Elf-Friend” is one of threads that persist
throughout the passage of time and even becomes the key to go back. I cannot
make assertions on Tolkien’s creative process, but a peek on the example of Eärendil
shows that although his languages precede his stories, they are also subjected
to modifications according to his stories and characters. The lineage of the
heroes and the storyline correspond with the lineage and development of
languages, as some events must happen to induce a major change in the
languages, while patterns of a language should be consistent with the “history”
of its creators and users.
As the readers, we perceive a sense of consistency when we
“discover” that the two timelines match precisely. They lend support to each
other in answering the wonder “why this and this happened”. Languages help in
the vertical development of “the historical sense” by answering to the said
history. At the same time, variation in languages at a given point of time
enriched the development of characters and their cultures. We have discussed in
class how a language can imply the identity, the qualities and the perspective
of its speakers—the dwarves kept secrets; the Ents have seen the most and hence
their names are also ever-going and encompass the most details; the Age of Men
comes with the spread of the Common Speech and the forgotten of the Elven
tongues; the foul Orcs cannot build their own language and only accept what is
given to them (from Sauron), and their engagement in the creative process is nothing
but the proliferation of curses and abuses. After all, “the Languages” and “the
peoples” are put into the same Appendix, suggesting a close relationship between
the two.
The horizontal and vertical development is not isolated from each
other but unrolls together to extend the breadth and depth of Middle Earth. It
is therefore not surprising to see that most species of the Middle Earth associate
their language with their history, as the knowledge of an ancient tongue
becomes a matter of “lore” and evolves into a signature of social (for the
Dúnedains) or even racial (for the Dwarves) identity. The Orcs, on the other
hand, do not seem to care much: what could be expected of history, when even
their “everyday” language was forgotten soon after the overthrown of their
Master? (LotR Appendix F, 1131). Given that Orcs are the antithesis of “the
Children of Illuvatar” and given the close connection between identity and history,
Orcs’ attitude may well suggest they are indeed a rejection of being.
These are rather subtle implications in Tolkien’s story. The majesty
of history is constantly perceivable by the readers more directly through the
differentiation between translated names and those original. As Tolkien (“the
translator”) explains in Appendix F, selection of what to translate is a
delicate matter. The goal is to preserve “a contrast between a wide-spread
language…and the living remains of far older and more reverend tongues” (LotR,
1134). Again here comes the idea that language and names carry the “living”. They
trigger a living response from the readers. We would wonder why when we come
across a strange name, and our wonder may lead to another story behind the
scene. We are constantly reminded by the sense of strangeness that there is
piece of evidence of history, like a pointy stone after the retreat of the wave
of time. These pieces have always been silent tellers of Sam’s revelation at
the stairs of Cirith Ungol: the present is but a continuation of the same grand
legend from the past, even though neither the characters nor us are always
aware of it. And I think wonder from the readers is proof of success for the
Fantasy: it is not as plainly believable as our primary world, so there is a
notion of distinction from the secondary, yet its “inner consistency” gives
reason not to discredit it immediately as daydream.
Access to Middle Earth
In the same lecture, Tolkien also discusses how language is the
mediator of imagination, which is an essential human quality. Indeed, as
readers we rely on the words of the narrator to be introduced into the Middle
Earth. Language has this marvelous ability to stimulate millions of neurons in
our brain and, “poof”, there comes all the imagery although we are not actually
seeing. We are left wondering whether this world could be true, whether it is
the world before our own reality, and we have talked about “what if we can
stumble into some sort of relics” in the previous classes. The translated
narration can enchant us by activate all the imaginations, but we are still “a-narrator-away”
from the Middle Earth. Narration is both the facilitator and the barrier that
we cannot across. But languages that are not translated lead a direct path into
this world. We might not be able to see or touch or smell the Middle Earth, but
with the painstaking instruction from our translator, we might be able to hear its
various voices, tones and rhythms by reading out loud the script. The fact that
Tolkien makes his most developed languages and their alphabets heavily phonetic
is like an invitation to participation in his world through speaking (we can
even read Elven script directly if we learn the basic rules. In contrast, I
feel it might be actually harder to pronounce English directly from spelling
due to irregularity in many words). When Gandalf reads out the Black Speech
inscribed on the Ring, “a shadow seemed to pass over the high sun, and the porch
for a moment grew dark” (LotR, 254). We can perfectly envision how the
environment darkens and imagine how the wizard’s voice “became menacing,
powerful, harsh as stone”. But even better, we can try it out ourselves and
tastes its menace. If Tolkien’s mastery over English establishes the secondary
reality by utilizing our understanding of English, then his elven speech can
pierce through the barrier between secondary and primary realities and transform
our imagination into something tangible. It does not require interpretation of
the meaning (like narration does) —in fact I think we can concentrate on the
tones and vocal properties better exactly when we do not understand the words.
Studies have shown that we obtain 90% of the sensory data through
sight, hence the idiom “seeing is believing”. Yet, as a philologist, Tolkien
emphasizes on the importance of hearing and sound as much as seeing, if not
even more. We can see evidence from the stories in The Lost Road, where both “seer”
and “listener” have access to Númenor in dreams (actually language has always been the trigger that
brings dream into reality). The invitation to voice here could be another.
The Sub-Creator
Tolkien’s use of languages—both English and his own creation—brings
two sides of humanity, logics and sensations, into unity. He masters power from
both sides to enchant his readers into a world of both legend and history. Of
course, to say that languages gives support to inner consistency does not mean
that it is the sole ingredient. Nor is it to say that creation of languages
itself is easy. As we have discussed in class, language is a response from us
to the external world, and hence carries our imprint. To build a language requires
building of a worldview. But Tolkien is not just creating one language from one
perspective; he must fit in the shoe of each species and each tribe in order to
reflect on the same Middle Earth from many different angles, each with its own
inner logic and imprint of its “creator” but also somewhat connected to fit his
“majestic whole”. At the same time, his creations are bound by his personal
preferences, life experiences, his knowledge of languages as a rigorous
philologist and above all, his nature as a human being. We, a “third party”
away from him or creatures under his pen, can still appreciate and find resonance
in the beauty of the Elven tongues because we have access to the same
sensational and logical faculties. We can understand why two words put together
will form a new meaning (e.g. Eruvo = “one” + “from” = Children of God) even if
our languages do not proceed in the same flow of logics. His languages reflect
his understanding of both his world and fundamentally of the nature of human
understanding. In this sense, his work is indeed an epitome of what his
description of “human” as the “sub-creator”.
~y-w-y
P.S. I feel I can give another shot on
convincing my mother to read the books…maybe after I read through all the
reflections on this blog…
3 comments:
It’s curious that your mom seems unimpressed by The Lord of the Rings because she doesn’t see the world as ‘brilliant’. My brother, in a different sense, was too daunted from finishing the Inheritance series because its world is so dense. To him, wrapping his head around such a complex, well thought out world was just too much. Yet, Christopher Paolini, the author of the Inheritance series, comments in interviews that he was inspired by Tolkien’s Middle Earth in writing his story. I can only imagine that my brother would be overwhelmed by Tolkien’s writing. Still, I hope he may one day read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, because they are great pieces that I know he will enjoy the story of.
As for language, I love your description of language as insects, “leav[ing] their shells behind after each stage of metamorphosis.” In a sense, a single language one uses throughout life goes through a similar sense of metamorphosis. For example, what I would say, read, and write ten years ago is different from what I would say, read, and write today. Perhaps my brother attempted reading Paolini when he was not at a stage in which he could comprehend and appreciate the language. I hope that now or in the near future he’ll be at a stage where he can read Paolini and Tolkien.
~C.C.C.
This is a wonderful reflection on the ways in which language constitutes the very fabric of history, as well as on how Tolkien's language works on and within the reader. You've shown us how language serves both as a marker of time and of characterization. I particularly like how you've shown the consequences of this with respect to orcs and orc-history: “ The Orcs, on the other hand, do not seem to care much: what could be expected of history, when even their “everyday” language was forgotten soon after the overthrown of their Master? (LotR Appendix F, 1131).”
Even more do I like your analysis of the “approachability” of Tolkien's use of internal languages (elvish in particular). I found this particularly well-expressed: “If Tolkien’s mastery over English establishes the secondary reality by utilizing our understanding of English, then his elven speech can piece through the barrier between secondary and primary realities and transform our imagination into something tangible.” But then I am confused that you come to the conclusion that we can appreciate Elvish even though “our languages do not proceed in the same flow of logics.” Have you not shown that Tolkien's thought on languages is very much rooted in our understandings of etymology and euphony? What is it that you are reading as a different logic?
I hope your Mom gives the books another chance!
--Jenna
Thank you for your feedback~ :)
I think my mom has the same "fantasy-cannot-be-serious-literature" mindset...she was very surprised to learn that Tolkien stands right next to Tolstoy in the special shelf for "Classics" in the Houston Public Library. I wish she could attend one session of our amazing class here!
To C.C.C
I can't agree with you more on "what I would say, read, and write ten years ago is different from what I would say, read, and write today". My first contact with the books of The Lord of the Rings was a failed attempt to learn English through reading literature...no imagination could be formed since I have to check dictionary at least once per line x_x. Hope your brother can catch up with you soon! I can imagine that it would be so fun to have someone to discuss Tolkien at home :)
To Jenna,
I am sorry that I didn't express myself clear, but what I meant by “our languages do not proceed in the same flow of logics” is that etymologically the words in our languages are not structured in the same way as the Elvish. An example I found was "niquessë" (frost-pattern), which is associated with "quessë" (feather) in Quenya. In English the formation of the word "frost-pattern" does not follow the specific logical path that frost and feather have some qualities in common, hence logically our language is not constructed in the same way as the Elvish due to different perception of the world. But we can still understand why the Elves make the connection when we see how it is decomposed--perhaps even find a sense of poetic beauty in it. So we must at the same time share something with the Elves in terms of logical thinking. Tolkien can create languages that so many readers find beautiful because he understands what kind of etymological link would be appreciated by his readers, even when their native tongues do not contain the same links. And his understanding on the matter is due to his insights on human logic/nature... I probably shouldn't use the broad word "logics" in the original sentence... does it make a bit more sense now...?
~ y.w.y
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