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A review by hirvimaki
The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien
5.0
"And that's the way of a real tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. And you don't want them to."
My ↑ reread of the LOTR. I used to read it every year but have not picked it up in a while. This reread has reminded me that I need to read Tolkien. It is good for my soul.
My love for Middle Earth runs deep and is significantly personal. The Hobbit and LOTR are the first books I remember my mother reading to me. We would sit on our ugly orange 70s couch in our living room and she would read, her voice like a magic spell as Tolkien's words, like peering through an open door, revealed the world of Hobbits and Tom Bombadil (one of the most interesting and enigmatic characters in all of Tolkien's writings yet sadly dismissed in most derivatives of his work (if you don't include Bombadil you are missing the point)), the horses of the Rohirrim, the long grief of the Ents, the might of Gondor, the wickedness of Mordor. Many ideas were kindled in my young mind: that it is small hands that change the world while the great and mighty look elsewhere; that destroying a thing in the name of knowledge is not the way to wisdom; that charity, valor, and mercy are not the sole differentia of the strong and powerful; and that sorrow can be beautiful. Tolkien built a vast universe - not just a world, but a universe, from the moment of creation forward - and filled it with the most amazing characters, creatures, and landscapes, then set against that a pervasive, universal theme of self-sacrifice and of giving up power, rather than consolidating it.
My ↑ reread of the LOTR. I used to read it every year but have not picked it up in a while. This reread has reminded me that I need to read Tolkien. It is good for my soul.
My love for Middle Earth runs deep and is significantly personal. The Hobbit and LOTR are the first books I remember my mother reading to me. We would sit on our ugly orange 70s couch in our living room and she would read, her voice like a magic spell as Tolkien's words, like peering through an open door, revealed the world of Hobbits and Tom Bombadil (one of the most interesting and enigmatic characters in all of Tolkien's writings yet sadly dismissed in most derivatives of his work (if you don't include Bombadil you are missing the point)), the horses of the Rohirrim, the long grief of the Ents, the might of Gondor, the wickedness of Mordor. Many ideas were kindled in my young mind: that it is small hands that change the world while the great and mighty look elsewhere; that destroying a thing in the name of knowledge is not the way to wisdom; that charity, valor, and mercy are not the sole differentia of the strong and powerful; and that sorrow can be beautiful. Tolkien built a vast universe - not just a world, but a universe, from the moment of creation forward - and filled it with the most amazing characters, creatures, and landscapes, then set against that a pervasive, universal theme of self-sacrifice and of giving up power, rather than consolidating it.