I’ve started reading The Silmarillion. Well, re-reading, since I read it for the first time twenty-odd years ago, not long after finishing The Lord of The Rings but before reading The Hobbit (I’m not sure if there’s a wrong way to read Tolkien’s books, but that order doesn’t feel like the right one).
The Silmarillion, if you don’t know, is kinda an accessory to The Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit. Published posthumously and edited by Tolkien’s son, it’s a sketch of what’s effectively Middle-earth’s Pentateuch. It starts off with a gorgeously-rendered creation myth then dives into a history of the world, the emergence of the Elves, the rise of Morgoth, and the battles that would mark the rest of the First Age.
It’s also something of a narrative disaster. There’s a lot going on, and while the broad plot can be parsed, it quickly devolves into there being a lot of names and a lot of places. Why these names and places matter isn’t always clear, and The Silmarillion moves along at a quick enough clip that some events may happen so quick that you might not register them. It’s such a broad overview that it almost feels like a grand summary of ancient myths where you’re expected to already know what threads are important to follow.
So it’s dense, it’s hard to parse, and yet it’s all so wonderful. Because snuck in there are, if you’ve been paying attention, great nuggets that tie into the broader story. The Sun is guided by Arien, a spirit of fire who Morgoth never corrupted — she is what a Balrog would be had they never gone evil. In thanks for saving his life, Finrod gives Barahir his ring. This is the ring that Barahir’s descendent, Aragorn, later gives to Arwen when he asks her to marry her. Time and time again this book has me exclaiming aloud “huh!” in fascination at this fictional history.
I don’t know if I can recommend the book. It’s, well, it’s a lot, even for me, someone who’s read The Lord of The Rings more times than he can count. Reading it isn’t too far off from picking up a history textbook, except this history is entirely fictional. But that is part of the fun. I love Tolkien’s legendarium, I love the stories of Middle-earth, and I love how overly-intricate the world is. It’s a remarkable feat, creating a fictional world so developed that all those random names and places aren’t random, but actually related to the grander scheme. It’s a tough book to read, but one that’s engrossing all the same.
The next chapter in the book for me is “Of Beren and Lúthien,” one of my absolute favorite stories in Middle-Earth. I can’t wait to read it.
Essays, Not Rants! 