The Loss of Enchantment
By Silverspear
When The Lord of the Rings film trilogy was first released at the turn of the 21st century, I asked an acquaintance of mine if he had ever read the books. He looked at me blankly and replied: “Why would I want to read the books when I’ve seen the films?” The late Christopher Tolkien, the son of J.R.R. Tolkien who was the author of The Lord of the Rings, once provided a useful insight into such a shallow response. This is what he regretfully said about his father’s work after it had been given the Hollywood treatment:
“Tolkien has become a monster, devoured by his own popularity and absorbed into the absurdity of our time. The chasm between the beauty and seriousness of the work, and what it has become, has overwhelmed me. The commercialization has reduced the aesthetic and philosophical impact of the creation to nothing. There is only one solution for me: to turn my head away. They eviscerated the book by making it an action movie for young people aged 15 to 25. And it seems that The Hobbit will be the same kind of film.”
In writing The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien created a valuable and welcome Anglo-Saxon mythology – a magical world of profound complexity, which sadly can only be a pale shadow of itself when presented as flickering images on a screen. Perhaps nowadays many have lost a sense of wonder, along with the power of imagination, and have become dependent on passive spoon-fed mass entertainment and amusement, when everyone should be taking full personal responsibility for their own cultural development and nourishment.
In the world of today, it is hardly surprising that anxiety, stress and depression are on the increase. Some have argued that our general unhappiness and discontentment are in direct proportion to the material abundance which most of us now take for granted in an ever-increasing technological society. Many individuals appear to have lost a sense of enchantment which far less materially advantaged generations of yesteryear undoubtedly possessed and enjoyed, as the following excerpt from the Carmina Gadelica illustrates. The Carmina Gadelica is a compendium of literature and folklore largely collected on and around the island of South Uist in the 19th century by the folklorist and exciseman, Alexander Carmichael (1832 -1912). I have slightly edited his narrative for reasons of brevity:
Storytelling at a Ceilidh (1861)
Alexander Carmichael
“The house of the story-teller is already full, and it is difficult to get inside and away from the cold wind and soft sleet without. The house is roomy and clean, if homely, with its bright peat fire in the middle of the floor. There are many present – men and women, boys and girls. All the women are seated, and most of the men. Girls are crouched between the knees of fathers or brothers or friends, while boys are perched wherever boy-like they can climb.
The houseman is twisting twigs of heather into ropes to hold down thatch, a neighbour crofter is twining quicken roots into cords to tie cows, while another is plaiting bent grass into baskets to hold meal. The housewife is spinning, a daughter is carding, while another daughter is away in the background conversing in low whispers with the son of a neighbouring crofter. Neighbour wives and neighbour daughters are knitting, sewing, or embroidering.
The stranger asks the houseman to tell a story, and after a pause the man complies. The tale is full of incident, action, and pathos. It is told simply yet graphically, and at times dramatically – compelling the undivided attention of the listener. At the pathetic scenes and distressful events, the bosoms of the women may be seen to heave and their silent tears to fall. Truth overcomes craft, skill conquers strength, and bravery is rewarded. When the story is ended it is discussed and commented upon, and the different characters praised or blamed according to their merits and the views of the critics. If not late, proverbs, riddles, conundrums, and songs follow. Some of the tales, however, are long, occupying a night or even several nights in recital”.
END
footnote:
Since posting the above article, I came across the following passage written by the renowned folklorist Katherine Briggs in 1967.
"In the trilogy The Lord of the Rings, the story has been lifted into adult status. To those who yield to the spell of the books they have a compelling atmosphere, and on first reading them no friend is felt to be a companion who is not able to discuss them. It is admission into a world which has objective quality. The distinctive flavour of the elves, dwarves and other creatures is truly preserved without loss of individual characterization. Fairy lore in literature has here reached its high watermark".
That says it all, in my view.
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