On Fairy-Beyond-Stories

In his essay “On Fairy-Stories,” Tolkien opines that “in human art Fantasy is a thing best left to words, to true literature.” But do his own definitions allow for more? Taking art by M.C. Escher and Tolkien’s own poetry as examples, I would argue that Faerie and Fantasy can indeed go beyond literature, but the path becomes fraught upon abandonment of story.

To begin, it will be necessary to reiterate the difference between these three elements in relation to my topic. Faerie, the realm somehow coexisting with or overlaying our own, possesses magic and the ability for subcreation, which leads into fantasy. The most important aspects of Tolkien’s Fantasy for my argument are “arresting strangeness” and the potential for Secondary Belief, but I also accept and support the dictionary definition he eschews, “inner consistency of reality.” Lastly, though it may seem inane, a fairy-story must be a story. In order to make room for the values fairy-stories offer – Fantasy, Escape, Recovery, and Consolation – and the paramount feature of the Eucatastrophe or turn, the story must have an enthralling plot. To return tangentially to a prior discussion, these last three are also why fairy-stories are journeys. Recovery, that “regaining of a clear view,” comes only after we are overwhelmed with sensation, stepping back at last after the intense plot which drew us in has been completed. If you will indulge me a quote from the movies,

It's like in the great stories…. [S]ometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, … when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

Fairy-stories immerse readers in a “perilous” world with dangers and possibilities beyond our experience. It is exactly because those fantastic characteristics that, if successful, the story fosters real and strong emotion, and that returning to the world which we do experience gives us recovery and catharsis. Even more poignant are stories where the characters feel the same, such as both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. When the heroes return from their journeys, they too gain a renewed perspective on the Shire and home. Eucatastrophe requires a plot on the simple grounds that the “Consolation of the Happy Ending” needs something to end. Without a journey, without conflict and development and the feeling of having gotten somewhere or done something during the story, there can be nothing to “turn” from.

Tolkien critiques fantasy in visual arts as frequently sliding into “silliness or morbidity.” While I do not, of course, know his views on M.C. Escher or what he categorized as silly and morbid, the impossible, imagined worlds of Escher’s drawings are neither. Waterfall and Ascending and Descending, two of his most famous works, display this well.

When the hypothetical viewer’s eye first falls on Waterfall, it will focus on some small element perhaps the waterwheel in the middle, or the sharp polyhedral figures near the top. Between the dark bricks of the aqueduct and the implied motion of ripples, the viewer will likely follow the water around its course before stopping in confusion. Something is obviously not right, and yet the picture does not look completely wrong. I argue that this feeling, though I only have empirical data from my friends to support its existence, is a manner of Secondary Belief created inside the drawing. There is both sense and nonsense in the piece, and a shift of perspective is required to move between them; looking at any part of the structure closely it is comprehensible, a study in architecture, and only by switching to consider the whole can the viewer keep the impossibility in mind. A similar design is at play in Ascending and Descending: look at any half of it and you see people going up and down a staircase atop a lovely Italianate building, but look at the whole and the building ceases to cohere. If Secondary Belief is when unrealistic things can become “’true’: [they accord] with the laws of that world,” then these drawings create belief because the elements do make sense and fit together. This shift in perspective is like the Magic of Faerie, a mathematical magic if you will. Inside of its enchantment, these drawing achieve and inner consistency of reality and the strange seems natural. The bottom left of Waterfall, for instance, has a collection of shapes more suited to a fish tank, but in place with the building and gate it becomes but a transformed garden – similar to real life but shifted, like a green sun. Escher’s realistic and precise architecture and surroundings are a match for the abnormal elements and diminish their shock.

In The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, a collection of poems with many of “less serious” nature, one striking piece after reading this essay is #3, “Errantry.” I linked the poem at the end, but since it was not assigned reading I will quote some of the lines that caught my attention here:

He wove a tissue airy-thin
to snare her in; to follow her
he made him beetle-leather wing
and feather wing of swallow-hair
He caught her in bewilderment
with filament of spider-thread;
he made her soft pavilions
of lilies, and a bridal bed
of flowers and of thistle-down
to nestle down and rest her in;
and silken webs of filmy white
and silver light he dressed her in.
…
He made a shield and morion
of coral and of ivory,
a sword he made of emerald,
and terrible his rivalry
with elven-knights of Aerie
and Faerie, with paladins
that golden-haired and shining-eyed
came riding by and challenged him.

When I read this I found clear parallels with the type of fairies and stories depicting them that Tolkien derides, with the excerpt from Nymphidia echoing in my head. Here is a passage referencing objects made from things befitting a fairy of diminutive stature, full of “prettiness.” The meter, though unique and clever, is made for decorative language and obscure words that, to me at least, evoke the same generically old-fashioned time period as fragile and delicate flower fairies. The poem follows a courier who wanders around, woos a butterfly, and engages in battle before going back to delivering his message. It is altogether a rather nonsensical and unengaging story more reminiscent of “Pigwiggenry” than fantasy.

To me, “Errantry” does feel more like Faerie than Escher’s drawings. Perhaps it is just the romantic medieval imagery, or perhaps it gets to Tolkien’s point that fantasy is best in language where the audience can envision it themselves. Nonetheless, the poem does not create secondary belief in its world nor show much consistency besides prettiness. So why might pictures succeed where the written word fails? My argument is that, even though neither has enough plot for escape, recovery, consolation, or eucatastrophe, the difference is still in the story. The poem is too involved in meter and rhyme to go anywhere, and furthermore what story it does have is like the beast-fables Tolkien describes: all can be transformed into human items, materials, and experiences, stripping it of the fantasy. Meanwhile, in these two and other Escher drawings, we capture a slice of life. People are moving around their house, looking over balconies, doing laundry, and all while existing in an enchanted Faerie realm. The art is not simply an exploration of form, it is situated in a world, and this truly is the key to secondary belief.
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There are obviously other points that could be considered, but I am already long even without the poem excerpt. “Errantry” and many of the other poems in the collection were likely composed for Tolkien’s children. As he said in letter 215, he sometimes fell victim to societal assumptions that children and fairy-stories went together, so should we excuse the poem’s imagery and frivolity? I should also note that The Adventures of Tom Bombadil are presented as marginalia from the Red Book of Westmarch, and a cyclical structure of the language is a part of this Hobbitish poem type, which may excuse the cyclical plot. What is the purpose of the framing device? Surely he doesn’t actually expect anyone to believe these are poems he just collected, and as a way to create a secondary world it is frankly unconvincing. Perhaps Tolkien simply wanted to tie them into the canon on a more meta level.

-- ᛸᚻᚹ (SEP)

http://www.ae-lib.org.ua/texts-c/tolkien__the_adventures_of_tom_bombadil__en.htm#03

Tom or Tolkein?

“Who are you, Master?” Frodo asks in the passage from “In the House of Tom Bombadil,” subsequently breaking open a space for our class discussion.

Sub-creation, Tom Bombadil’s place in The Lord of the Rings and his absence in the movie version was widely discussed in our Zoom classroom on Wednesday. From whether or not Tom should have been included in the movies, to whether he was supposed to be seen as a version of Christ, we covered him and his passage thoroughly. In this scene, Tom Bombadil relates to the hobbits, who just got out of a rough encounter with Old Man Willow, his life full of journey’s around their world. To our class, Tom was either seen as a Godly/Jesus-y figure or perhaps Tolkien himself. I believe that Tom Bombadil is more of a stand-in for Tolkien himself, rather than a religious figure, despite Tolkien’s background. I think Tolkien reveals his own presence in the telling excerpt we read from the book.

Tom comes into the mise-en-scene with a good attitude, erupting with poems and songs as well as a pleasant relationship with his wife Goldberry. These details help explain his presence in the story. Tolkien’s description of Goldberry demonstrates an effort to show beauty in her character. “Her long yellow hair rippled down her shoulders…set with the pale blue eyes of forget-me-nots” (134). There is a tenderness to the way he described her. While this might be the result of his talent, I think it digs to a place slightly deeper. When he was writing the story, Tolkien was married to Edith Bratt. Edith is sometimes referred to as his muse, inspiring many of his works (History Collection). Her effect on his writing is most notable in his works such as The Silmarillion (History Collection). They were married up until her death in 1971. However, Goldberry’s character may have also been a reflection of Edith, revealing his personal fairy tale. The relationship between the two characters echoes a happily married J. J. Ronald and Edith. If they had a sexual relationship, that too would further distance themselves from Christ figurines, despite his devout Christianity. “Leaf by Niggle,” helped demonstrate his Christianity. Niggle is a struggling artist who stumbles across heaven by finding the tree he was painting, in what is seen as a perfect world.

Tom Bombadil proves himself an adept storyteller, enchanting the Hobbits for two nights with tales from his travels and life. Tom’s story within the greater framework of the novel, suggests another connection to Tolkien. The passage demonstrates that fairy stories are not just meant for children, as they contained both good and bad endings and beginnings – too scary for the ordinary free folk children. It may be argued that it seems like he is talking to children in a way, because the hobbits size and their experience in the world is far less than Tom himself. But, as Tolkien says in “On Fairy-Stories,” “The value of fairy-stories is thus not, in my opinion, to be found by considering children in particular,” (5), so the hobbits must be considered as men, as Tolkien himself would. And they are men, enjoying a fairy-tale, which is certainly a nod to Tolkien’s opinion on “On Fairy Stories.” Tolkien himself is obviously a master storyteller, reflecting similarities between him and Tom. Tom lays out a blueprint of what the Hobbits may face later, speaking of fortresses and heights, acting a bit like foreshadowing, as Bilbo’s presence in the beginning did for Frodo. Regardless, Tolkien follows that blueprint and creates, through sub-creation, an entire world in 6 books. I also thought it was interesting that some believed Tom acted as a transition from The Hobbit to this greater world he is introducing.

What struck me was Tom’s personality that matched his green stockings. While Tom told a story, he would turn to song, and he would “dance about” (140), a highly unusual way of acting. His stories acted like a movie montage, “leaping up the young stream…over pebbles and worn rocks” (141) as Tolkien describes. I read him as being a happy and likable character, despite having several war stories underneath his belt. In terms of being likable, I think Tolkien would want his reflection to be likable. If his reflection is Tom as I say, he would want to be liked, most probably. Unless of course, they wouldn’t. I am not sure what J. R. R. Tolkien was like in real life, but if his personality was known to be bubbly, Tom and his connection would be even tighter.

After Frodo asks Tom who he is, Tom responds with “Don’t you know my name yet? That’s the only answer,” (142). Tom goes on to talk about how he was “here before the river and the trees, Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn.” I think this also suggests that Tolkien is Tom. He was the only one who came before everything else. He created the world we are in as readers, acting as a sub-creator, making a world of his own. He created the world and the first man to set foot in it was him.

Another aspect that we didn’t discuss as much in class was how Lord of the Rings was an escape from the industrialism, as mentioned in “On Fairy Stories.” Industrialism was happening all around Tolkien and England at the time. Industrialism has a lack of beauty, whereas the story does, helped by its fantasy elements.

In summary, Tom is Tolkien (They even share the same letter, “T!”) as they both are storytellers. This passage sticks out from the rest which is presumably why Peter Jackson removed the part in the movies, but it is actually a crucial part of the story because it’s the only time we get to see Tolkien’s hand in his craft.

https://historycollection.co/how-jrr-tolkiens-relationship-with-edith-bratt-inspired-and-echoed-a-tale-of-middle-earth/

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Hey Dol! Merry Dol! Tom and Children’s Stories

           I absolutely loved reading Tolkien’s letter 215, in response to his invitation to participate in a symposium issue of The New Statesman about children’s literature (I’m sure I don’t need to point out what a delight it is, reaching the end of the drafted letter and seeing the short missive actually sent in its place).  It was invigorating to read such a defense of looking at children’s literature as just literature (and it reminded me of The Monster and the Critics in its defense of looking beyond form and historical context for a piece of art). While The Hobbit is a children’s book, and its writing style is distinct from The Lord of the Rings and much of the Middle-Earth legendarium, we can see its style reappear in the Hobbits’ encounter with Tom Bombadil and Goldberry in Book One, chapters six and seven. I think, also, our discussion of Tom Bombadil’s many possible selves (as divine, as Christ, as Tolkien) in class is worth revisiting in the context of children’s literature. This is especially true, because in said letter, Tolkien openly regrets the “whimsy mood” of The Hobbit, and this tone seems to permeate chapters six and seven of The Lord of The Rings throughout, from the “Hey Dol! Merry Dol!” to the green stockings. It is true that The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings needed some connection, but it seems strange that the voice of this section is so close to the former, and differs so strongly from the rest of the text.

            This situation is partly explained when Tom is considered an aspect of Tolkien. Just as Tom “told [the Hobbits] many remarkable stories” and “as they listened, they began to understand the lives of the Forest, apart from themselves, indeed to feel themselves as the strangers where all other things were at home,” so does the reader become a stranger in a full and complete land, Middle-Earth. In order to create the mystical character of the story-teller, in a world that is already totally fantastic and apart from that of the reader, it is necessary for Tolkien’s stand-in to be magical to a degree further than the Rings of Power and the Hobbits that readers have, by that point, already encountered. Bombadil is set further apart by his agelessness. As he says, “I am old. Eldest, that’s what I am.” It is worth noting that the Hobbits experience the “strange regions of memory” and “strange language” of Bombadil the same way readers experience the invented historiography and conlangs of the text.

Moreover, paralleling Tom to Tolkien, and the Hobbits to us, the readers, being swept into a magical world of things far older and deeper than us, both on the side of light and of dark, fits the whole Tom Bombadil episode squarely in the category of allegory. The “whimsy mood” in this section also helps delineate the allegory from the main story of the text, and, additionally, to set aside the further allegory of Tom’s discussion of Old Man Willow and the Barrow-wights, the reality of Middle-Earth, with Sauron’s rise in the Third Age.

One aspect of the childlike nature of the description, at this point also, may be to set Tom Bombadil aside from Christ, to whom he is often compared. This parallel may seem natural, as he is immune to the effects of The Ring of Power, he is ageless and seems all-powerful, and he is a story-teller, as Christ was fundamentally. However, the whimsical nature of this chapter, as opposed to Tolkien’s writing in the rest of the text, which can sometimes approach scripture in tone, pushes against that, and against Tom Bombadil as divine. Rather, it helps solidify that while Tom Bombadil is powerful, he is not a higher-power of Middle Earth, or rather, he is not Eru Iluvatar, nor is he one of the Valar. The contrast between this section’s tone, and the tone of The Silmarillion or of characters discussion of The One Ring bears this out clearly.

There is, perhaps, one more, playful reason for this section’s tone: Tolkien, by exposing the world to The Hobbit first, was forced to somehow open up the much more child-oriented, episodic, world of The Hobbit (designed for children) into the totality of Middle-Earth, and a writing style for everyone (or, in the terms of 215, perhaps aspirationally available to young readers but not specifically written with them in mind). Having a character as (frankly) goofy as Tom introduced to help safeguard the hobbits through the Old Forest is a natural vehicle for this opening. Moreover, while Tom remains goofy, by indicating himself as endlessly old and being immune to The One Ring, he also hints at the deeper world, beyond even that which we’ve been exposed to so far (Sauron, Gandalf, Smaug, etc.), that Tolkien clearly has now conceptualized showing to the reader as well. Additionally, Tom Bombadil’s speech consists of things that more closely resemble folkloric fantasy than the rest of Middle-Earth: the spirits of trees, ghosts haunting their burial places, etc. This connection with common fantasy elements, especially of English pastoral life (Tolkien, before the publication of The Lord of the Rings, referred to Tom as the spirit of the Oxford countryside) helps ferry the reader from their reference of fantasy into the totally new world Tolkien created.

It’s also interesting to me, that, having read Leaf by Niggle, which is clearly an allegorical story as well, also dealing with the nature of sub-creation, it is meaningful to ask whether our knowledge of Tom can be enhanced by Leaf. Additionally, there are sharp parallels between the literary styles of Leaf and Tokien’s portrayal of The Old Forest: both of them using language that seems straight out of a children’s tale, although neither story’s audience is childlike. However, this seems to be explained in both of their evoking folklore. While The Lord of the Rings, at times, involves folk-lore, Tom Bombadil seems to be folk-lore in the flesh, sprung to life, while Leaf uses the conventions of the evocative, moralistic folk-tale for Tolkien to convey his own feelings on sub-creation. I think this stems mainly from the difference between the worlds of Leaf by Niggle and Middle-Earth proper: in Leaf,  the world exists to support the allegory, while for Tom, the world exists, vast and full and formed, and the allegory is merely a small element of it.

- MHK

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Talking Tolkien with Tyler

A preview of our course! Tyler Hummel talked with me in February 2019 about my course on Tolkien and its relationship to Peter Jackson’s films. Watch at GroupThink Productions.

For a complete listing of my video, podcast, and radio appearances, see Bear On Air.