Revisiting Fantasy Classics: Tolkien, Lord of the Rings, and three critiques
Epic fantasy is fun to consume. It is one of those genres that perfectly capture the joy of adventure, imagination, and myth within a structured narrative. Quite an immersive experience. More importantly, the genre is diverse. There is no limit to the kind of stories that can be told in epic fantasy. But for some reason, this diversity is often overlooked. A particular school of thought in the genre traces all of modern fantasy writing back to J.R.R Tolkien. A lot of critics and fans continue to believe that it was Tolkien’s famed work, the Lord of the Rings (LOTR), which set forth the roots for epic fantasy.
On the surface, it does make sense. It was indeed LOTR that created the three-act trilogy format followed by his successors. LOTR (and the more extensive Silmarillion universe) defined tropes such as elves, orcs, wizards, etc. that are now a recognized staple of medieval-style fantasy. As a philologist and scholar of myth, Tolkien paved the way for incorporating rich mythological sagas and folkloric literature into commercially successful genre fiction. In producing one of the most popular works of fantasy, Tolkien also kickstarted the process of transforming fantasy from a pulpy niche interest to high literature worthy of genuine critical engagement, a task completed by later authors.
However, go a little beyond the surface and matters become complicated. For one, epic fantasy had existed in one form or another before and during Tolkien’s time, often characterized as a sword-and-sorcery or adventure. And though Tolkien inspired many imitations, there were also equally popular pioneers like Ursula K. Le Guin and Terry Pratchett who wrote fantasy on their own terms. Others such as Glen Cook wrote stories that were essentially anti-Tolkien in their narrative. Still, other, more contemporary authors, like Steven Erikson or N K Jemisin have written popular fantasy that is far beyond Tolkien-esque style stories. Even among famed epic fantasy authors who directly cite Tolkien as an influence, including George RR Martin and Tad Williams, the focus is more on deconstructing and reexamining the medieval-style settings these stories are set in. There are other settings, other worlds, other narratives that are gaining currency.
Nevertheless, Tolkien certainly inspired a specific version of medieval fantasy, accompanied by a type of Western mythology. As a popular work, LOTR (and Silmarillion) has inspired a wide variety of critiques. There are three critiques that really stand out for me in particular — the inherent escapist conservatism of LOTR, the supposed racism of its settings, and the male-centered narrative. Let’s discuss them a little.
That Tolkien had a fondness for a conservative, rural, merry kind of England is no secret. The most delightful part of his Middle-Earth is the Shire, an unspoiled place inspired by his own childhood in rural England. The question for us is that how much does this inform the worldview of LOTR? Some argue that it does a lot. In a now-famous essay, fellow fantasy author Michael Moorcock points out the anti-urban, anti-technology tendencies of LOTR. In the narrative, Tolkien displays anxieties about threats to a golden, idyllic rural lifestyle. Moorcock notes that Tolkien has a habit of implicitly sentimentalizing the petit bourgeoisie — the middle-class, the artisans, and the peasants (represented by the Shire) — as a major bulwark against chaos and change. This is in many ways a misanthropic attitude and reflective of Tolkien’s insecurities with regard to modernity. His stories also embody a matter-of-fact attitude to class dynamics where they do not try to question any unequal relationships among people (or hobbits). This is reflected in the master-servant relationship between his two main characters in LOTR, Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee.
While it is easy to assume that Tolkien was a rural conservative, it is also important to note how far he went ahead to incorporate change. In the penultimate chapter of LOTR, the Scouring of the Shire, which is also perhaps the most important chapter in the trilogy, Tolkien goes out of his way to demonstrate the permanence of change that he feared. Here the hobbits come back to find their once peaceful and serene home transformed as a result of deliberate industrialization. They fight back to take control of the Shire and try to restore it to its previous state but the change is permanent. The hobbits realize that. The ending of LOTR may seem neat but it is hardly anything but that. There is a recognition of the transformation brought about by industrialization. There is the passing of an epoch as the ancient, mythical Elf species depart from the land. Tolkien may have been harking back to an idyllic age, but he was certainly not afraid to face its passing even in fiction.
The second interesting critique of Tolkien’s work is its racism. The obvious evidence comes from how Tolkien constructs the idea of evil and to whom he assigns the badge of evil. The Orcs of Middle-Earth are seen as caricatures of what Tolkien considers the “Others”, the irredeemable mass of degenerate black beings who do the evil bidding going against the fair-skinned, civilized heroes of his story. According to some critics, there are also hints of eugenics and scientific racism in this conception of Orcs who were created as a result of ‘foul’ methods. The noblest of the creatures in his world are the Elves — the fairest, blondest beings. There is a connection between whiteness and goodness that recurs throughout Middle-Earth stories. Though it’s worth noting that the visual representation of movies makes this connection explicit, Tolkien himself never directly implies it. In fact, he took offense when it was pointed out to him as he believed he had a strong anti-racist worldview.
This also relates to the supposed moral geography of his work. For instance, the pure, ideal world that his protagonists inhabit exists in the North-West of Middle-Earth. As we move away, we reach the South-West, where exists Gondor, a complicated kingdom that is nevertheless still good as it stands in the West. As we go further South, we see the complex but ultimately evil land of Harad whose (dark-skinned) people join Sauron in the fight against the good West. In the East though, resides only the purest of evils in the land of Mordor. Mapping this onto the real world is revelatory in its own way. The geographical dichotomy is hard to miss when viewed in the context of the orientalizing and demonizing of the ‘East’ in actual accounts produced during the colonial era — Tolkien’s own compatriots were the pioneers of this activity.
Though somewhat valid, this critique misses a few points. For one, it is worth remembering that before we examine any allegories in his stories, we should understand how Tolkien himself viewed his work. For him, this was a linguistic project more than anything. Unlike most fantasy authors, he did not start writing a story and then create a world for it. It was the other way around. He created a whole language and a world where that language is spoken. And only after a long world-building process, he began to write a narrative within that world. Secondly, in LOTR, the Hobbit, and even other stories, there are explicit anti-racist themes. The lesson in these stories is that innate physical characteristics do not matter. The true heroes of his story are not the fair, noble race of Elves, nor is it the immortal wizards or the nations of men. It is the tiny, oft-ignored race of Hobbits who carry the biggest burden and achieve the most difficult of the tasks.
We could also argue that what comes across as questionable moral geography is not the result of some explicit racism from Tolkien, but actually his attempt at creating a mythopoeia rooted in a Christain morality, Western mythological sagas, and Anglo-Saxon traditions. Perhaps, an apt reflection of his limited worldview as a result of being a former soldier and later a scholar in the British Empire’s homeland. However, the critique of this worldview is beyond the realm of the fantasy genre itself.
The third major critique of Tolkien’s work is hard to argue against though. It is indeed a male-centered world that Tolkien creates. Even with a diverse cast of strong female characters including Galadriel, Arwin, and Eowyn, the narrative still revolves around a male worldview. Aside from these few women, the only other time we see women is when they are victims of wars. As one critic noted, there are more named horses in the trilogy than there are women. LOTR would fail the Bechdel test by quite some distance. And yet, this is not just a Tolkien problem. A not-so-insignificant section of epic fantasy literature has always focused on male-centered narratives, though the trend is not universal or an exemplar in any way. This is a genre-wide issue that is only now being challenged.
The critiques of LOTR are important and revelatory in what they say not just about Tolkien but also about epic fantasy. There is no denying his influence on the genre, but there is also no need to deify him as the progenitor or his work as the ideal template for the genre. This reflects in many ways the work of critics who choose to write the genre’s history with Tolkien at the center. This is perhaps as much a matter of the power of discourse as anything.
While we can and should question Tolkien-esque fantasy — the absence of diversity, the implicit conservative assumptions, the neglect of non-male perspectives, and the West-centric stories — we can also appreciate the good in them. The narrative of LOTR is a meaningful exploration of heroism, persistence, fighting against all odds, and protecting what is precious to you. The epic scope of LOTR, the depth of the characters, the tragedy that this narrative embodies, the moral lessons on offer are all a part of excellent storytelling. Tolkien’s almost poetic prose, his obsession with being extremely specific in his choice of words, and methodical, careful worldbuilding are a lesson for any aspiring writer. So let us take what is good in LOTR and question what isn’t. But ultimately, let us enjoy it.
