Peter Jackso – I mean, Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring

Currently Reading: The Two Towers by J. R. R. Tolkien

I was in 7th grade when The Fellowship of the Ring movie first appeared in theaters. Beyond the tentative excitement my mother felt about it, I had very minimal interest in the release. In fact, I never actually saw The Fellowship of the Ring in theaters. The first time I watched it – with half interest – was right before I went to see The Two Towers a year later, a movie chosen by popular vote among my friends. I don’t remember any real impact from the first film because it was a rushed viewing, done only to understand what I was about to go watch in theaters.

Ahhh… how times have changed.

The Two Towers essentially rocked my middle school self’s world. I saw it three times in theaters. Since then, I have watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy more times than I can count – and probably more times than I should ever admit to. They have become a staple in my house; they're some of our go-to movies when we are in the mood to pop something in and we usually agree to the extended versions. While my obsession has never reached the heights of having a wall-sized poster of Orlando Bloom as Legolas in my bedroom – you know who you are – it’s certainly noteworthy.

Seriously, SO GOOD!!!!!!!!!!

The point is, I love these movies and I know them pretty much inside out and backwards.

Now here’s the shameful part in all this:

Until about two weeks ago, I had never read any of the books.

I know, Kitty. It's quite shocking.

I’d always meant to, I just had such a bad taste in my mouth from my oh-so-tragic experience reading The Hobbit – refer to my sole December post for that tear-jerking tale – that I had written off Tolkien entirely. My intense love for Peter Jackson’s movie versions couldn’t conquer my irrational hate of Tolkien.

I have now overcome my previous, rather unfounded prejudices towards the author and have finished the first installment of the trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring. What did I think of the book version? Was it better than the movie, as is generally the rule for all books adapted for the big screen?

I honestly can’t tell you.

Because the horrible thing about reading a novel that is the basis for one of your favorite movies is that you cannot, cannot separate the two.

I literally could not get my mind to stop comparing Tolkien’s book with Jackson’s film adaptation. Instead of forming any sort of opinion about the action or the writing, my mind would think, 

“Hmmm… that’s not how that went in the movie.”

Or

“Weird. Gandalf said that line in the movie.”

Or

“That happens so much later in the movie.”

It wracked my brain the whole time!!

In some ways, it was nice having the comparison. Truthfully, I’m not sure I would have stuck it out to Bree – which truly is when the plot picks up in The Fellowship – if I hadn’t known how great the story was. It also made me enjoy some of the extra background bits of information for the characters or the lengthy decision making scenes more than I probably would have originally because it felt like finding extra bonus features on the DVD. It helped me to understand a lot of aspects of the movies I never would have gotten otherwise. Plus, as is always the case, the book allows for more depth in the characters, especially somewhat secondary characters like Legolas and Gimli. For example, I’m not sure I ever really understood that Legolas was from Mirkwood, the same place from which Bilbo had to rescue his dwarf companions in The Hobbit. It’s added a new layer to the story I thought I knew so well… which sounds kind of silly when I think about the fact that the story came from the book so they aren’t really new layers.

However, I reiterate that overall I’m not sure what my opinion of the book is. And that kind of breaks my heart. I feel as if I’ve been deprived of a reading experience and I’m saddened to know that it’s one I can never have. I can’t un-watch the movies and I can’t go back and read the books before I saw the films, or before I knew them so well. I will never know what it feels like to be surprised by the twists and turns of this novel and I’m really disappointed that that is the case.

Not as relevant as I wanted, but way too amused not to share. PS Don't type in "book heartbreak" to your Google Images. It's just depressing the titles that show up.

It’s not completely hopeless, though. I have managed to form one or two opinions of the book and Tolkien’s writing outside of the movie versions. However, I believe I’m going to hold off on voicing them until I’ve completed the whole series in case they become firmer or change entirely by the end of the trilogy.

Hopefully, in the end, I will figure out some trick for separating the book from the movie…

I'd love any helpful hints if you've got them :)

There and Back Again... Again

Currently Reading: The Fellowship of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien

My first exposure to The Hobbit came when I was probably around six years old. I was somehow forced to watch this version:

Bilbo Baggins in the cartoon version of The Hobbit

Naturally, I decided that hobbits were some of the creepiest creatures ever imagined and I began to believe that Tolkien had a rather twisted mind. To this day, I find this cartoon version of The Hobbit to be one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever seen. Its on par with The Last Unicorn cartoon, an animated movie that has scarred every person of my generation.

The first time I actually read The Hobbit, it was assigned reading for my 8th grade English class. And it was one of the most miserable reading experiences of my life.

It was a Sunday in September. In fact, it was my 13th birthday. I was still floating on the high of spending my birthday weekend with my friends, giggling and having fun in the obnoxious, immature way that only 13 year-olds know how to. We’d gone to see Sweet Home Alabama and during the movie, I had successfully held hands with my crush du jour, making me silly with butterflies until that Sunday. My weekend had been one of my more perfect birthday celebrations and I had absolutely no interest in coming down from my high, especially not on my actual birthday.

My English teacher evidently had had other plans for my birthday weekend. She had piled us with homework that weekend. I don’t remember all of the specifics of the assignments, but I do remember that assignment was plural and that at the center of my suffering was – you guessed it – Mr. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. I believe we were expected to read something like ten chapters over the weekend on top of two other assignments. Again, the exact parameters of the assignment escape me now. The irrational anger and extreme agitation I felt, do not.

I’ve always been a rather slow reader and at the time I was much slower given that I was, well, 13 and my attention span for reading even slightly challenging books was not particularly high. The ten chapters took me all day. I’m pretty sure I settled into our living room couch around noon and didn’t finish the assignment until about 6 PM.

And I couldn’t even breathe a sigh of relief. I still had all the rest of my homework which to contend. Never mind all of my other classes. I still had English homework to complete. The glow of my lovely birthday weekend was extinguished entirely by the obscene amount of schoolwork I was forced to do on my actual birthday.

The injustice of it all!

In my self-centered 13-year-old brain, I was still convinced that the world should have the decency to stop and relax in observance of the holiday that was my birthday. Shouldn’t teachers know not to assign any work on my birthday? Seriously, my birthday girl rights were being violated.

Guess I was doing my best impression of this girl.

To add insult to injury, the next day I arrived in my English class, completely disgruntled, only to hear my teacher proclaim:

“I realized over the weekend that I assigned an unrealistic amount of homework, so if you didn’t get through all The Hobbit reading, it’s OK.”

My classmates exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank God!” they whispered, “I only got through about half the reading!”

I was dumbfounded! Even more than that, I was furious. My birthday had been wasted and it didn’t have to be?? I didn’t have to suffer through all that reading??

I’m fairly certain I saw red.

At the center of my rage sat The Hobbit. If that damn Tolkien hadn’t written such a tedious, wordy book with ridiculous songs and riddles, it wouldn’t have taken me so damn long to read it and birthday bliss could have been mine!!

And for years, this has been the impression of The Hobbit that I’ve carried around. I have firmly hated it and have believed it to be long winded with uninteresting characters and a plot that dragged. In a way, this belief has kept me from reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy, despite the knowledge that they are by far my mother’s favorite and most re-read books. I just couldn’t forgive Tolkien for “ruining” my 13th birthday.

Now, 10 years later, I feel terrible about the abusive reviews I’ve given this novel.

I’m so glad I re-read this novel because the second reading has completely changed my opinion of it. In fact, I’m stunned by my previous assessments now, particularly my firm belief that the novel was incredibly slow paced. I could not disagree with this conclusion more. The story actually progresses at an extremely quick rate. This makes sense given it’s a children’s book and a fast pace is key to maintaining a child’s attention. But still, the speed of the plot floored me initially. I mean Bilbo is on the road beginning his adventure by the end of the first chapter for Pete’s sake! In an adult book, it would have taken at least twice as long! Additionally, I was somewhat surprised to discover that every chapter had a key plot point in it, another writing choice hardly ever made in adult books. In fact, every chapter almost had a stand-alone story within it, making it easier for a parent to read one chapter aloud before bed – as my sister pointed out. I guess given my choice of reading material these days, I had forgotten what it was like to read a book targeted for a much younger audience.

That wasn’t the only thing I’d forgotten.

Honestly, I had forgotten pretty much the entirety of The Hobbit’s plot. I remembered the bit with the trolls discussing the various ways to kill Bilbo and I vaguely remembered the part in which Bilbo meets Gollum, but other than that, I realized I remembered almost nothing. I’m fairly embarrassed at how new the book felt, despite the fact that I was reading it for the second time. I guess I didn’t really absorb much of the book through my indignation the first time around since the parts I remember occur in the third and fifth chapters. Apparently, I might as well have enjoyed my birthday for the amount I actually read.

But I’m glad I’ve read it again. It’s reading experiences like this one that remind just why it’s not a waste of time to re-read a novel. Yes, chances are my “to-read” stack of books will always be piling up towards the ceiling, but sometimes, it’s worth it to revisit something in the “already-read” pile. If I hadn’t, I would have continued to believe that I hate Tolkien when really, I now understand why he’s so beloved. I can’t wait to finally read The Lord of the Rings now!