In December of 2001, just after the release of Peter Jackson's The Fellowship of the Ring, Hollywood Jesus webmaster David Bruce convinced me that I should write a book about The Lord of the Rings. At the time, I was working on a novel, and the idea of authoring a "scholarly" work hadn't occurred to me. The argument he used to convince me was pretty simple—there is an appetite for commentary on Tolkien, an appetite which had already become apparent due to the learned, vocal public response to my Tolkien-related work on Hollywood Jesus.

After completing a book proposal a few months later, I also found that publishers have an appetite for commentary on Tolkien. This is not surprising—it's a matter of marketing, of supply and demand.

A Dragon's Appetites
 
But is satisfying the demand a sufficient reason for writing (and selling or buying) yet another book on Tolkien's works? Hasn't enough been written already? Do we really need yet another voice added to the babbling chorus which lobs salvos back and forth concerning the merits and demerits of Tolkien's fiction?

The pragmatic answer is: Well, a void exists and someone's gonna fill it. Why not me? I've certainly acquired the requisite knowledge, I've established an audience, and I have a unique—if controversial—spin on the subject.

But a more prosaic answer is: actually, no. We don't need another book; unfortunately, few people find that argument particularly compelling. The appetite is simply too strong.

And this is where the 21st-century Tolkien phenomenon has proven so baffling for a great many people. Why is the appetite so strong, exactly? And what significance is there to that appetite? This is a complex question—and the answer to that question is a compelling reason for yet another book on Tolkien.

The piece of this question which I have chosen to address focuses specifically on the Christian response to The Lord of the Rings, for the obvious reason that I am a Christian. It's the piece of the answer that I am best equipped to address. And the theory I suggest in Tolkien in Perspective is that the Christian response to Tolkien is pretty misguided. There are reasons it is misguided: because Christians often have a poor appreciation for the nature of art and artists; because many Christians have irrational and unfounded fears of things they don't understand, and are underinformed to boot; because Christians can easily leap to the conclusion that what's spiritually profound to them must be, by extension, spiritually profound to others; and because Christians may think that their special relationship to God makes them "right" about a great many things. In short, Christians are often wrong about things, like any human. And Tolkien was both a Christian and a human.

The Problem of Glitter

This theory, of course—that Tolkien and his work were human and therefore inherently flawed—may be completely irrelevant. It may, in fact—because it, too, is the product of a human mind—also be flawed. But it is a theory worth testing. In particular, it provides an alternative to books which have seen the need to defend Tolkien, because it removes defensiveness from the equation. It also provides an alternative to books which offer negative criticism of Tolkien, because negativity is defused. The theory allows a sober examination of The Lord of the Rings and its accompanying mythology, and lets us ask the questions we would ask of any common object, such as a pocket knife—or even the One Ring itself: may it be turned to good, and how? May it be turned to evil, and can that be prevented?

Knowing the Difference

The answers require some perspective, because the answers depend on the nature of the object being examined. Objects designed for evil—say, "weapons of mass destruction," or the One Ring—have little application for good. Objects designed for good—say, a butcher knife, or the Bible—may often be turned to evil. It pretty much depends on the person using the object, and how the object is being used. So we must not only know something about the topic of discussion—Tolkien and his books—we must also know something about the people doing the discussing: ourselves.

Whence the Gold, and
Whence the Glitter?

And this is where my book, Tolkien in Perspective, has something to offer. My strength as a critic is synthesis of large bodies of material, which is a distinct asset in writing about Tolkien—and one which is sadly lacking in many tomes on Middle-earth. Yet my treatment of Tolkien the man / artist (and the outcome of his creative efforts) may pale in comparison to the real strength of this particular work on Tolkien: the challenge for Christians to look inside themselves through the same lens which they apply to Tolkien. We may not like what we see.

And at the end of the day, we will come full circle to a personal answer to the question: do we need any more books about Tolkien?

LOTR Coverage Index here

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