The Lord of the Rings, for all it’s fame, has never been a conventional book. Though it started the genre of fantasy as we know it, inspiring such works as The Dark Tower or Game of Thrones, it nevertheless bent many rules—even in it’s own day. The books are long; in fact, the “trilogy” is actually one massive book which was only split into three parts because the publishers had to be realistic in their marketing approach. George R. R. Martin receives common complaints about his lengthy descriptions and plethora of characters—though these same traits can be seen in the series that started it all.
Despite the fact that The Lord of the Rings features several attributes which would make a book challenging to sell, and market, in the modern age, it continues to do well. The book is famous, and word of mouth and being labeled as a classic help the book succeed, but people also continue to enjoy the series on it’s own merits. Though we live in a world where people can’t focus for more than ten minutes, fans continue to read, and re-read, this one massively long book.
Tolkien had a particular talent as a writer. Writing a book comes with dozens of rules, but Tolkien was one of those writers who could break them to strong effect. Whether it be the infamously long descriptions, or the intricate histories, the author presented them in a way which livened the world, rather than hampered it.
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1) Exposition
One of the first complaints readers will have when reading a book is that the story hasn’t started, or nothing is happening. Upon cracking The Lord of the Rings open (and it’s companion novel, The Hobbit) it takes time before anything does happen. The reader is treated to a description, instead, of Hobbit culture, and where Frodo and Bilbo fit into said society. After several pages, nothing has technically happened…though the reader now knows a great deal about the importance of gardening, food, and, perhaps most importantly, pipe weed.
Game of Thrones took a similar approach, bombarding the reader with information and characters. For more casual readers, this would have been intimidating, and marketers trying to make a book appeal to the broadest audience would have writers believe this technique is a no-no.
For Tolkien, the strategy was a success. It was a success because the Hobbits, along with their quirky culture, were a new entity. People had loose ideas around Dwarves and Elves, which meant Tolkien didn’t have to describe them as much (though he describes them enough). There was also humour in the introduction of the race; these were a squat people who smoked too much, ate too much, had hairy feet, and lived in holes with round doors.
In short, no part of the introduction is boring; the Hobbits are too interesting for the reader to put the book down, even if “nothing is happening” to start. The lively Hobbits, and their anticipation of a mass birthday party in which someone is turning “one hundred and eleventy,” is memorable and it feels as though much is happening, even if it doesn’t directly involve the protagonist from page one.
The lengthy introduction also works because it offers context. Frodo (or Sam, depending on which camp you sit in) is the protagonist. In order to understand him, you need to understand his world. His familial connections, and the culture he has been raised in, have shaped him into the person he is. Even his Uncle’s history has a direct bearing on his character, making it necessary to touch on Bilbo’s adventures. Frodo’s determination to take the ring in the first place stems from his desire to have an adventure of his own. Knowing, then, that Bilbo encountered trolls in his youth is necessary, because it motivates Frodo as a character.
Finally, the book serves another purpose in spilling the beans on the Hobbits: it makes you fall in love with the Shire. Once Frodo ventures into the wider world, the Shire falls out of the story until the very end. For the majority of the books, Frodo isn’t in the Shire at all, and yet the story opens with a lengthy description of this place we will soon leave behind.
The reader becomes invested in the Shire and all of it’s happenings. We become attached to the family politics, and even to the antics of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins and her attempts to make off with Bilbo’s fortune. As a result, leaving becomes painful for not only Frodo, but for the reader. After being introduced to these delightful people and their eccentric ways, we are expected to leave them behind.
Throughout the books readers are made aware of how homesick both Bilbo and Frodo are on their journeys. Sam also feels it keenly, making note of when he’s taken his “furthest step” from home, and carrying along such things as spices to remind him of the Shire. Even Bilbo, who eventually falls in love with adventure, never stops missing home, and his greatest treasure is an acorn, a seed from a Shire tree, which he carries on his journey, and home again, to be planted.
In being given a lengthy description of the Shire and it’s people, the reader understands the characters and what they’re missing—while missing it along with them.
2) Description
One of the most common complaints leveled at Game of Thrones is it’s long descriptions, but in this regard Martin was also inspired by Tolkien. Tolkien describes landscapes in great detail; some find this slows the story down, but it could be argued that the descriptions actually bring the reader into the story.
Though Peter Jackson couldn’t actually describe anything to a film audience, he still captured the spirit of them by including multiple running montages. These implied the characters were traveling great distances, and through multiple environments.
If the books had simply said, “they traveled for several weeks before finally reaching Rivendell,” the reader would have been disconnected from the characters. They wouldn’t have been able to appreciate the length of their journey; hearing something was long or arduous isn’t the same as seeing that it is. By hearing about fens and caves and too many trees besides, the reader is given a grasp of how tedious an actual adventure would be. Between every dangerous encounter, there is a great deal of walking and fatigue.
The descriptions of forests, swamps, and mountains added a level of realism to the books which other fantasy stories lack. In a typical fairy tale, the character walks a few feet and is fresh when they fight the troll.
In Lord of the Rings, the journey is half the battle…and when real danger does come, it’s heightened by the fact the protagonists are so exhausted from all that walking. The troll is that much more formidable when you’ve been hiking for weeks and are in want of a hot meal.
The environments are varied too. Some days are rainy, some are dry. Some places are flat, with springy grass, and others involve hills, rocks, and are nearly impossible to navigate. These descriptions made Middle Earth feel like a real place, giving you a grounded sense of time and space. The long walks made Middle Earth feel vast, and every forest is different.
The descriptions of Mordor are especially memorable, contrasted as they are with previous descriptions of trees and lush greenery. After the Shire, and the realms of the elves, Mordor is that much bleaker. The descriptions of it’s dead landscape create a distinct tone, and the stakes are heightened for the protagonists when one sees just how barren their surroundings are. The despair felt by Frodo and Sam feels more keen for the reader when they are bombarded with continual paragraphs on just how awful Mordor really is.
3) Unnecessary Side Trips
There’s a golden rule in writing that a story should either advance the plot or show character. For readers, there is an expectation that the story will continue or that they’ll learn something new about the heroes they are following. There are plenty of scenes which could be removed from The Lord of the Rings books without damaging the plot, or the readers understanding of it’s characters. Such scenes were removed in the film versions, leading to debates over whether or not Peter Jackson should have included Tom Bombadil.
Remove Tom Bombadil, the Barrow Wights, and other scenes, including the prolonged stay at the Bree inn, in which the Hobbits become acquainted with it’s people, and the overall story remains strong.
Yet it’s possible Tolkien had a third rule in mind when writing: a scene is also necessary if it tells you something about the protagonist’s world. Middle Earth itself is almost a character, and by becoming familiar with Bree and greater powers like Tom, the reader comes to understand Middle Earth better.
Moreover, there’s a greater sense of what would be lost if Middle Earth was lost to Sauron. Frodo and Sam wouldn’t just die; the complicated cultures and characters the reader has become attached to would too. In introducing Tom Bombadil, Tolkien provided a wider context for the world Frodo is trying to save. Stopping the Big Bad becomes all the more important when you’ve become invested in that which he is trying to destroy.
Being captured by Barrow Wights might delay the plot of escaping the Ring Wraiths and reaching Rivendell, but it does so with the intention of showing off Middle Earth, and implying that there are other older magics at work. Tom can’t be the only character able to fight off the ring: his appearance indicates there may be others, which seems like a large piece of lore to leave out of the world. After all of the realism injected into the books by so much hiking, Tom reminds the readers Middle Earth is nevertheless a place of mysterious magic—much of which isn’t actually laid out for readers. Tom raises more questions than he answers, in turn prompting readers to be more curious about the world Frodo is trying to preserve.
4) Multi Protagonists
Another rule thrown at writers is that they should choose one protagonist and stick to him. Having multiple viewpoints has been done several times by different authors, though it’s recommended only the most experienced attempt it. The general consensus is to follow one person and focus on how their actions impact the story.
Frodo is an engaging enough protagonist (or Sam), but Middle Earth is a vast place. Middle Earth is busy: there are multiple races vying for their positions, intricate familial histories, and even multiple enemies (if Sauron wasn’t enough, Sarumon is a major thorn in everyone’s side).
Once the Fellowship splits up, the reader must continue to follow all the heroes in their separate groups. Such an approach shows not only that Middle Earth is vast, offering the opportunity to explore three times as much ground, but also that fighting a war is a team effort. Sauron is an all powerful being with an Orc army at his command, a near immortal ring that acts like a drug to it’s wearer, and a rogue wizard for a lieutenant (who also has his own Orc army). One person isn’t going to stop all of that—even if that one person is Gandalf.
The choice to follow multiple protagonists (Frodo and Sam; Aragorn with Legolas and Gimli; and Merry and Pippin) allows each character to have an arc and do their part in saving the day. It makes every character count; without either Frodo or Aragorn, all would have been lost. Without Pippin, Faramir would have been killed and Sarumon might have continued to rule. Every character has weight, each of their choices feeling integral in saving Middle Earth.
It’s also realistic. By having multiple protagonists fight the war from different sides, in different ways, the war itself feels larger. It can affect multiple people in varying locations, emphasizing the largeness of Sauron’s reach.
Finally, every protagonist’s journey is unique, which keeps the story fresh. In Frodo’s arc, the reader is focused on long walks and concealment. In Aragorn’s arc, the reader delves into the meatier action sequences, in which the king to be must save Helm’s Deep, before turning his attention to the Black Gate. The arcs for Merry and Pippin are a blend of hiding and action, as the pair come into their own as fighters and members of a human army.
Tolkien broke several so called rules in his stories, but not to their detriment. Instead, the rules he broke helped to enhance Middle Earth, giving it depth, size, and context. Every character, big and small, gardener or king, was able to shine, and the long descriptions and array of characters made for a world that was both memorable and large.
Should writers continue to break these rules? Do you think Tolkien could have cut the description back, or do you agree it was necessary? Also, if you noticed any other rules Tolkien broke, let me know.