The Blurbs. I wrote in haste on the proposed ‘blurb’ for U[nwin] Books. I do not wish to hurt the feelings of a writer who obviously meant well by me and the book; but I hope you will agree, if you have time to consider it, that this will not do. Apart from its unfortunate style, it misrepresents the story, and the way in which it is presented. Unless you wish to defeat the ‘magic’, you should NEVER talk like this within the covers of a marvellous tale. The Hobbit saga is presented as vera historia, at great pains (which have proved very effective). In that frame the question ‘Are you a hobbit?’ can only be answered ‘No’ or ‘Yes’, according to one’s birth. Nobody is a ‘hobbit’ because he likes a quiet life and abundant food; still less because he has a latent desire for adventure. Hobbits were a breed of which the chief physical mark was their stature; and the chief characteristic of their temper was the almost total eradication of any dormant ‘spark’, only about one per mil had any trace of it. Bilbo was specially selected by the authority and insight of Gandalf as abnormal: he had a good share of hobbit virtues: shrewd sense, generosity, patience and fortitude, and also a strong ‘spark’ yet unkindled. The story and its sequel are not about ‘types’ or the cure of bourgeois smugness by wider experience, but about the achievements of specially graced and gifted individuals. I would say, if saying such things did not spoil what it tries to make explicit, ‘by ordained individuals, inspired and guided by an Emissary to ends beyond their individual education and enlargement’. This is clear in The Lord of the Rings; but it is present, if veiled, in The Hobbit from the beginning, and is alluded to in Gandalf’s last words.2
I do not mean, of course, that anything of this sort should appear in a blurb. Heaven forbid! But I do think that it should not contain words that cannot be reconciled with it and entirely miss the point. . . . .
Very Best Wishes for Christmas and the New Year. Do you think you could mark the New Year by dropping the Professor? I belong to a generation which did not use Christian names outside the family, but like the dwarves kept them private, and for even their intimates used surnames (or perversions of them), or nicknames, or (occasionally) Christian names that did not belong to them. Even C. S. Lewis never called me by a Christian name (or I him). So I will be content with a surname. I wish I could be rid of the ‘professor’ altogether, at any rate when not writing technical matter. It gives a false impression of ‘learning’, especially in ‘folklore’ and all that. It also gives a probably truer impression of pedantry; but it is a pity to have my pedantry advertised and underlined, so that people sniff it even when it is not there.
282 From a letter to Clyde S. Kilby
18 December 1965
[Professor Kilby, of Wheaton College, Illinois, had met Tolkien while visiting Oxford in 1964. He now offered to return to England and help Tolkien in any way that might be useful, so as to make it easier for him to finish The Silmarillion.]
I have never had much confidence in my own work, and even now when I am assured (still much to my grateful surprise) that it has value for other people, I feel diffident, reluctant as it were to expose my world of imagination to possibly contemptuous eyes and ears. But for the encouragement of C.S.L. I do not think that I should ever have completed or offered for publication The Lord of the Rings. The Silmarillion is quite different, and if good at all, good in quite another way; & I do not really know what to make of it. It began in hospital and sick-leave (1916–1917) and has been with me ever since, and is now in a confused state having been altered, enlarged, and worked at, at intervals between then and now. If I had the assistance of a scholar at once sympathetic and yet critical, such as yourself, I feel I might make some of it publishable. It needs the actual presence of a friend and adviser at one’s side, which is just what you offer. As far as I can see, I shall be free soon to return to it, and June, July and August are available.
283 To Benjamin P. Indick
[A reply to a letter from a reader.]
7 January 1966
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Mr Indick,
Thank you very much for your long and interesting letter and comments. They deserve a much fuller answer, but I hope you will forgive me since I am much pressed. Indeed, if I am ever to produce any more of the stories which you ask for, that can only be done by failing to answer letters.
Yours gratefully
J. R. R. Tolkien.
284 To W.H. Auden
[Auden told Tolkien that he had agreed to write a short book about him, in collaboration with Peter H. Salus, for a seres entitled Christian Perspectives; he hoped this did not meet with Tolkien’s disapproval. He also mentioned that he and Salus had attended a meeting of the New York Tolkien Society. The meeting, on 27 December 1965, was reported in the New Yorker on 15 January 1966, and a quotation from this report was published in the London Daily Telegraph, the newspaper that Tolkien read every morning, on 20 January. According to the Telegraph, Auden had told the Society: ‘He [Tolkien] lives in a hideous house – I can’t tell you how awful it is – with hideous pictures on the walls.’]
23 February 1966
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Wystan,
I should have replied to your letter of December 28 weeks ago. Nothing is more boring than long explanation of one’s neglects, so I will merely say that I have been since Christmas taxed beyond my capacity; and I was also ill (my wife and I were advance victims of the ’flu epidemic here) during the latter half of January.
I regret very much to hear that you have contracted to write a book about me. It does meet with my strong disapproval. I regard such things as premature impertinences; and unless undertaken by an intimate friend, or with consultation of the subject (for which I have at present no time), I cannot believe that they have a usefulness to justify the distaste and irritation given to the victim. I wish at any rate that any book could wait until I produce the Silmarillion. I am constantly interrupted in this – but nothing interferes more than the present pother about ‘me’ and my history.
I was interested to have your note on your visit to the New York Tolkien Society. I have received some other reports of it (including brief extracts in the London press). I cannot say that the (I imagine garbled) notices of your remarks or of Salus’ gave me much pleasure.
May I intrude into this letter a note on Ace Books, since I have engaged to inform ‘my correspondents’ of the situation. They in the event sent me a courteous letter, and I signed an ‘amicable agreement’ with them to accept their voluntary offer under no legal obligation: to pay a royalty of 4 per cent. on all copies of their edition sold, and not to reprint it when it is exhausted (without my consent). The half of this which I shall retain after taxation will be welcome, but not yet great riches. . . . .
It was most kind and generous of you to send me a copy of About the House. I do not pretend that in me (a less generous-minded man than you) your writing arouses the same immediate response. But I can report this. I took the book away (when I took my convalescent wife to the seaside). I took it up to read one night when I was about to get into a warm bed (about midnight). At 2.30 a.m. I found myself, rather cold, still out of bed, reading and re-reading it.
Yours ever,
[carbon copy unsigned]
285 From a letter to W. H. Auden
8 April 1966
If my letter to you of February 23rd was a little tart, I must confess that this was caused by the article in the New Yorker purporting to report the meeting of the Tolkien Society in New York and your remarks about me – not to mention Peter Salus’ (as reported) nonsense about the shape of Middle-earth. In case you have missed it I enclose a copy. These remarks, if correctly summarised, seem to me so fantastically wide of the mark that I should have to enter into a long correspondence in order to correct your notions of me sufficiently for the purpose. It is also unfortunate that the general Press, with its usual slant towards sneering, fastened on your remarks about my house and pictures. This was t
he main item in reports in English papers and exposed my wife and myself to a certain amount of ridicule.
286 From a letter to A. E. Couchman
27 April 1966
[The following is one of many short replies that Tolkien wrote at this period of his life to readers who asked questions about his books. Its characteristic brevity may be compared to the long replies of the years immediately after The Lord of the Rings was published.]
There are no ‘Gods’, properly so-called, in the mythological background in my stories. Their place is taken by the persons referred to as the Valar (or Powers): angelic created beings appointed to the government of the world. The Elves naturally believed in them as they lived with them, But to explain all this would simply hinder my getting on with publishing it in proper form.
287 From a letter to Joy Hill, Allen & Unwin
10 May 1966
[Tolkien’s telephone number was still in the Oxford directory, and he was sometimes bothered by calls from ‘fans’.]
Thank you very much for your suggestions about my telephone number, which I will consider. Removing the number from the directory seems better than the method adopted by Major W. H. Lewis in protecting his brother, which was to lift the receiver and say ‘Oxford Sewage Disposal Unit’ and go on repeating it until they went away.
288 To Professor Norman Davis
[The English Faculty of Oxford University wished to acquire a bust of Tolkien by his daughter-in-law Faith. The bust was duly presented to them, and now stands in the English Faculty Library.]
10 May 1966
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Norman,
I feel much honoured, and so also does my daughter-in-law (the sculptress), by the Faculty’s wish to place the bust of me in the English Library in some prominent position – if on second thoughts you do not think a storied urn would be better. I shall be most pleased to present it to the Faculty.
It occurs to me that the plaster bust is rather fragile and very easily damaged. I suggest, therefore, that I should have it cast in bronze for presentation (at my own cost). I have already referred the matter to the sculptress who knows how these things are done. Once in bronze it would then be unaffected by any dignities or indignities offered to it. I often used to hang my hat on the Tsar of Russia’s bust, which he graciously presented to Merton.
Yours ever,
Ronald.
289 From a letter to Michael George Tolkien
29 July 1966
Mirkwood is not an invention of mine, but a very ancient name, weighted with legendary associations. It was probably the Primitive Germanic name for the great mountainous forest regions that anciently formed a barrier to the south of the lands of Germanic expansion. In some traditions it became used especially of the boundary between Goths and Huns. I speak now from memory: its ancientness seems indicated by its appearance in very early German (11th c. ?) as mirkiwidu although the *merkw- stem ‘dark’ is not otherwise found in German at all (only in O.E., O.S., and O.N.), and the stem *widu- witu was in German (I think) limited to the sense ‘timber’, not very common, and did not survive into mod. G. In O.E. mirce only survives in poetry, and in the sense ‘dark’, or rather ‘gloomy’, only in Beowulf 1405 ofer myrcan mor: elsewhere only with the sense ‘murky’ > wicked, hellish. It was never, I think, a mere ‘colour’ word: ‘black’, and was from the beginning weighted with the sense of ‘gloom’. . . . .
It seemed to me too good a fortune that Mirkwood remained intelligible (with exactly the right tone) in modern English to pass over: whether mirk is a Norse loan or a freshment of the obsolescent O.E. word.
290 From a letter to Michael George Tolkien
28 October 1966
[Tolkien’s grandson was now a graduate student at Oxford.]
I am interested to hear what you say about your work, and your growing view of ‘research’ as applied to modern literature. I am myself and always have been sceptical about ‘research’ of any kind as part of the occupation or training of younger people in the language-literature schools. There is such a lot to learn first. It is often forced on students after schools because of the desire to climb on to the great band-waggon of Science (or at least onto a little trailer in tow) and so capture a little of the prestige and money which ‘The Sovereignties and Powers and the rulers of this world’ shower upon the Sacred Cow (as one writer, a scientist, has named it) and its acolytes. But many of those devoted to the Arts privately desire nothing more than a chance to read more.
Quite rightly. For there is a climacteric, at any rate in people of our N.W. race, occurring somewhere in the mid-twenties, before which knowledge acquired is retained (and digested); after which it becomes rapidly and increasingly evanescent. I should think seriously about the change to a B. Phil. if it contains subjects suitable to yourself. (It was established after my time, so, though I advocated something of its kind, I do not know how it’s now arranged. After 40 years as both a slave and a deviser of them I cannot now look at University statutes or syllabuses without a sick-feeling.)
I did not warn you of my talk on Wednesday night. I thought you would be too busy. I did not give a talk in fact, but read a short story recently written and yet unpublished; and that you can read when you have time: Smith of Wootton Major: if I have not already inflicted on you. Though the title is intended to suggest an early Woodhouse [sic] or story in the B[oys’] O[wn] P[aper], it is of course nothing of the kind.
The event astonished me altogether, and also the promoters of the series: the Prior of Blackfriars and the Master of Pusey House. It was a nasty wet evening. But such a concourse poured into Blackfriars that the Refectory (a long hall as long as a church) had to be cleared and could not contain it. Arrangements for relay to passages outside had to be hastily made. I am told that more than 800 people gained admittance. It became very hot, and I think you were better away.
291 To Walter Hooper
[Hooper had sent Tolkien a new volume of Lewis’s writings, which he had edited.]
22 November 1966
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
My dear Hooper,
Thank you very much for the copy of Of Other Worlds. I read it with great interest, particularly those things I hadn’t seen before.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
J. R. R. Tolkien.
Too brief. But I am snowed up. I noticed, for the first time consciously, how dualistic Lewis’ mind and imagination [were], though as a philosopher his reason entirely rejected this. So the pun Hierarchy/Lowerarchy. And of course the ‘Miserific Vision’ is rationally nonsense, not to say theologically blasphemous.
292 To Joy Hill, Allen & Unwin
[Tolkien had been sent details of a proposed ‘sequel’ to The Lord of the Rings that a ‘fan’ was going to write himself.]
12 December 1966
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Miss Hill,
I send you the enclosed impertinent contribution to my troubles. I do not know what the legal position is, I suppose that since one cannot claim property in inventing proper names, that there is no legal obstacle to this young ass publishing his sequel, if he could find any publisher, either respectable or disreputable, who would accept such tripe.
I have merely informed him that I have forwarded his letter and samples to you. I think that a suitable letter from Allen & Unwin might be more effective than one from me. I once had a similar proposal, couched in the most obsequious terms, from a young woman, and when I replied in the negative, I received a most vituperative letter.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
J. R. R. Tolkien.
293 From a letter to William Foster
29 December 1966
[Foster had asked if he might interview Tolkien for The Scotsman.]
Thank you for your interest in me. I have, however, had a surfeit of visits and interviews during the present year. I have found n
one of them pleasant, nearly all of them a complete waste of time, even from the point of view of sales. But your request is, I admit, probably worth taking note of. The Scotsman is a highly reputable paper and you are, I am sure, better equipped than some of the interviewers let loose on me by the London Press. I am, however, now desperately in need of time, and I have with the assent of my publishers decided in no circumstances to give any more interviews until I have brought out another book.1
294 To Charlotte and Denis Plimmer
[The Plimmers had recently interviewed Tolkien for the Daily Telegraph Magazine, and had now sent him a draft of their article, the finished version of which was published in the issue of 22 March 1968.]
8 February 1967
76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford
Dear Mr and Mrs Plimmer,
Thank you for your courtesy in sending me a copy of the preliminary draft of your article. It is evident that I presented some difficulties to you during the interview: by my swift speech (which is congenital and incurable), my discourtesy in walking about, and my use of a pipe. No discourtesy was intended. I suffer from arthritis and my knees give me pain if I sit for long. It is one alleviation of being interviewed if I can stand. I should forgo smoking on these occasions, but I have found being interviewed increasingly distasteful and distracting, and need some sedative.
The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien Page 51