Lessons the Professor Taught Me: A Birthday Toast to Tolkien
Today marks J.R.R. Tolkien’s 133rd birthday!
The Tolkien Society has started a fun little tradition of drinking a toast in honor of his special day. Everyone is invited to join in the celebration! (Wander over here for specifics from the Tolkien Society.) At 9PM on January 3, just stand, raise a glass of whatever beverage you wish (I’ll go with water), say “The Professor!” and take a sip. So there it is in all of its mind-boggling complexity. I suppose you could continue to party after that if you’re so inclined. As for me, I’m of the quiet, mellow variety. In addition to the toast, I’d rather reflect on 5 things the Professor has taught me.
1. Appreciate the richness of language. There is far more to stories than what happens in them. The language used is of utmost importance. This is what makes stories come to life, makes them resonate. As a passionate philologist, Tolkien clearly understood this. Not only did he have an astounding grasp on various languages, but he also invented his own languages, from Nevbosh (one of his languages from youth) to Quenya (something a bit more familiar to the rest of us). In fact, Middle-earth would not exist if it weren’t for Tolkien’s inclination to create languages and his desire to construct a myth to bring those languages to life.
Of all the courses I took in college, my absolute favorite was the history and structure of the English language. The first time I ever heard Middle English, it sounded like magic to me—otherworldly, yet slightly familiar. Old English, which steps even farther from familiar territory, sounds even more captivating! Words are musical. Words are powerful. Hwæt: sometimes the best word may come from another language or even from a bygone age.
2. Don’t just tweak it. Rewrite it. The notion that writers spill out sentences perfectly on the first try is absolute baloney. Tolkien was a writer who worked hard at writing. He rewrote and started again from scratch to an obsessive extent. Some of his chapters went through many, many drafts. He strove hard to tighten his writing and make all of his words just so. The end result? Better writing. Such practices may seem daunting to some and it absolutely takes longer, but I think this level of analysis and perfectionism is, in the end, more of a boon than a curse.
I happen to be a crazed rewriting addict, myself. It wasn’t until I was older and firmly entrenched in this work ethic that I learned about this characteristic of Tolkien’s. It gave me a new appreciation for him, not to mention it made me feel a little less alone—and in very good company.
3. Slow down and appreciate nature. Tolkien loved nature—trees, especially. Trees feature prominently in his work, from his drawings, to the ents, to his story, “Leaf by Niggle.” He delighted in them in real life and lamented over their destruction. And if my wonky memory serves me correctly, his friends didn’t like taking walks with him because he clearly didn’t do it for exercise—he moseyed slowly to take in all of the nature around him, and, well, gaze at trees. (I wish I knew what book I think I read this in to verify this.) Anyway. So much is missed when always in a hurry or wasting away while staring at things like screens. Slow down, calm down, and observe the splendors that surround you. It will enrich your life. I know I think clearer and am more at ease when I’m outside! Tolkien was on to something.
4. Not everyone will like what you write. Keep writing what you’re driven to write, anyway. Did all of the Inklings love The Lord of the Rings? No. Hugo Dyson, especially, couldn’t stand it, and would complain about hearing more stories of Middle-earth at the Inkling gatherings.
This makes me pause. Dyson had a point—Tolkien wrote a lot about Middle-earth. Sometimes I wonder, why didn’t he branch out more? I know I’d grow bored writing about one entity for as long as he did. Then again, saying “why so much Middle-earth” to Tolkien would be no different from saying to Orwell, “Why the fixation on government?” Ot to Melville, “Why so much about sailors?” Or even to Shūsaku Endō, “Why do so many of your characters have tuberculosis?”
All writers have their unique experiences and passions that they need to spill on the page. They have their themes and styles that make them THEM. Accept it.
In the same way, writing about Middle-earth was simply what Tolkien did. So what if it didn’t strike Dyson’s fancy. He clearly wasn’t part of Tolkien’s target audience, just as there are people who are not of my target audience, either. And that’s perfectly okay. Write what you’re driven to write. Some people will hate it—but there will be others who disagree with that. No book gets glowing reviews 100% of the time.
5. Listen to your friends. Not that Tolkien always did, but he clearly took to heart some revision suggestions made by the Inklings, such as cutting down on his hobbit dialogue. I think that advice helped. And there was also the prodding from C. S. Lewis to keep working on The Lord of the Rings at times when Tolkien grew discouraged and considered giving up. Friends help. They see our blind spots and encourage us when we need it the most. A certain amount of independence is excellent, but we can’t be completely solo in our creativity if we sincerely long to grow.
Concluding remarks: I had my phase of being obsessed with The Lord of the Rings when I was a teen. I’ve long since mellowed out and now shy away from epic fantasy for the most part. But I do find myself reflecting from time to time on the tale of an Oxford professor in tweed who had a passion for words and quieter, simpler times, who worked so painstakingly on his ever-growing mountains of drafts, who sometimes struggled to keep plodding away at it all. That tale is far more relatable to me than stories of stately elves or food-loving hobbits because the writer’s life is simply more appealing to me—even more appealing than setting out on adventures in Middle-earth. Just plop me next to a fireplace with a cup of tea, a good pen, and a sturdy notebook, and I’m in a state of bliss.
There’s just one thing that really stumps me about Tolkien. He wasn’t a fountain pen guy. He actually preferred… dip pens.
I forgive him. Happy birthday, Professor, and thank you for your hard work.
For a little refresher on some Tolkien facts, I consulted J.R.R. Tolkien: A Biography by Humphrey Carpenter and Bandersnatch by Diana Pavlac Glyer.
