One might argue that Shelob is only comparable to other monsters because of her size: spiders are somewhat scary, but the level of fear they inspire is limited by their small size; in contrast, Shelob is an extremely large spider, so the fear she causes must just be that of a normal spider amplified by her size. I would venture against this opinion—I think Shelob’s size changes the monster’s and victim’s function. When we are afraid of a spider, part of that fear comes from its size: spiders are very hard to spot and one could be near you right now and you wouldn’t know. But Shelob’s size detracts from this part of the fear—Shelob cannot hide as easily or creep up on you without you noticing.
However, size does matter when it comes to rationalizing this fear. If I see a small spider, I may be afraid, but I am also aware that I probably shouldn’t be afraid. Unless I am in Australia, the spider next to me probably does not contain a deadly amount of venom, and even if it bites me, it is likely no more than a short-term pain, and spider webs are nothing but an annoyance to me. I am more deadly to the spider than the spider is to me; even though I may be afraid, I know I will most likely be fine. This calming aspect doesn’t apply when we increase the size of the monster—since Shelob is very large, her venom is more dangerous to me, her webs are strong enough to catch me, and she is more than capable of eating me if she so chooses (which she would).
Another aspect of the rationalization of fear is that the victim’s role (what would otherwise be the observer’s role) changes. It is possible that a small spider may try to bite me, but it is clear that I am not the intended typical victim—this would be a small bug, maybe even a smaller spider. To Shelob, Frodo and Sam are “small bugs,” meaning you shift the role of Shelob from a pest to a predator and, therefore, simultaneously shift the role of Frodo and Sam from annoyed or disturbed individuals to credible prey.
I think the reason why we would consider a Shelob a monster while we might not consider a scarier animal—maybe a lion—as such, instead only calling it a “beast,” is that a lion is not a mythological animal, it is simply a lion. But Shelob is not simply a spider, although she is described, among other characteristics, as a spider. In “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” Jeffrey Jerome Cohen describes monsters as “disturbing hybrids” that do not fit into neat categories; they are somewhere between different known forms but are themselves unknown (6). Similarly, Douglass argues in Purity and Danger that transgressing boundaries destroys order and can potentially threaten danger (3), leading one to condemn, ignore, attack, or fear the transgressor (39-41). According to these views, we consider Shelob a monster because she transgresses the boundary of what it means to be a spider (i.e. she is too big to fit under our definition of a spider). Furthermore, Shelob disrupts the preexisting order: Frodo and Sam are no longer simply hobbits but are closer to Shelob’s bug prey.
It seems to me that this is the same reason why Gollum is considered such an interesting monster and why he tends to make readers or observers so uneasy. Gollum acts in this same way, transgressing known boundaries: he is a hobbit, but we are not aware of him as a hobbit originally (in The Hobbit he is not described as a hobbit); we only learn this from Gandalf’s interrogation. One could argue Gollum transgresses the boundary of a hobbit by being unrecognizable as a hobbit, both physically and culturally—he likes eating his animal food raw.
On the other hand, one could say Gollum is such a good monster because he transgresses the boundary of what it means to be a monster. On the one hand he is a figurative monster, using his powers for evil and being a generally vile creature. At the same time, we naturally feel pity for Gollum. Sam divides Gollum into Slinker and Stinker, and while we do think of Stinker as a monster, we also think of Slinker as a hobbit—one could call Gollum part monster and part hobbit. Sam rightfully points out that Stinker becomes the dominant half on the way to Mordor, so it might be that we feel pity for the hobbit half. But it also could be that we feel pity for Gollum because he is not trying to be evil, he just wants the power—he is addicted to it—and on top of that he is not very good at using this power. Gollum has owned the “one ring to rule them all” and has simply been living in a cave, hidden from the world. The ring does not give Gollum any power but has been dampening his power since he found it. Gollum’s love for the ring is so strong that it ends up destroying the thing he loves most in the world (the ring) as well as himself. So, since we know Gollum is destroying himself just as much as he is destroying others, we cannot help but feel sorry for him.
But feeling bad for Gollum does not make him less of a monster, although it does encourage Frodo to let his guard down. While Gollum is powerless over the ring, he does have some self-control that the other monsters don’t possess, which allows him to control his actions so far as they increase his chances of obtaining the ring. This means Gollum does not typically attack—unlike the other monsters that we see—which makes it easier for the hobbits to somewhat trust him—have conversation with him, travel with him—even if they mistrust his intentions. That is, since Gollum is transgressing the boundary of what it means to be a hobbit, the other hobbits may still treat him as if he was more of a hobbit than he really is. Ultimately, this is Gollum’s greatest power, and therefore what makes him such a good monster.
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