[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

This is an interesting idea for a thread, which has prompted me to go back to On Fairy-stories. I read through it last night, and was taken aback at just how open Tolkien was about his views. This was an academic lecture at a prestigious university, and Tolkien used it to set out what amounts to a literary manifesto, even quoting Mythopoeia at one point. He is, of course, quite right: what we call 'fairy-stories' were not composed in or for nurseries, although the facts of their composition are invariably difficult to unravel. That being said, Tolkien is quite right to point to essentially oral organic processes governing the changes of story over time. He is also right, in my opinion, to point to the essential internal reality of the ideal fairy-story and its direct connection to the real world.

The point at which Tolkien most notably deviates from his views as expressed in this lecture is in the depiction of evil. In the section entitled Fantasy, Escape, Consolation he wrote:

It is indeed an age of 'improved means to deteriorated ends'. It is part of the essential malady of such days - producing the desire to escape, not indeed from life, but from our present time and self-made misery - that we are acutely conscious of both of the ugliness of our works, and of their evil. So that to us evil and ugliness seem indissolubly allied. We find it difficult to conceive of evil and beauty together. The fear of the beautiful fay that ran through the elder ages almost eludes our grasp.

Tolkien's fiction does contain glimpses of beautiful evil: the corrupt and decayed spectre of Minas Morgul; Galadriel's description of how she would be were she successfully to claim the ring; and the undescribed 'fair form' which Sauron assumed when dealing with the smiths of Eregion. However, these are only glimpses. The vast majority of Tolkien's evil characters, Orcs, Trolls, Shelob, Ungoliant, Glaurung, Morgoth and Sauron themselves and their fortresses, are physically ugly or otherwise repulsive. The majesty of Smaug is at best ambivalent, certainly not beautiful; the false wisdom of Saruman becomes increasingly repulsive as his true thoughts are revealed; but none of these characters have the beauty and evil of Lewis' White Witch.

When it comes to buildings or locations that have been or are in the process of being corrupted, Tolkien's fiction is much closer to this stated preference. He follows the comments above, which seem more descriptive of characters, with specifically architectural comments.

In Faërie one can inded conceive of an ogre who possesses a castle hideous as a nightmare (for the evil of the ogre wills it so), but one cannot conceive of a house built for a good purpose - an inn, a hostel for travellers, the hall of a virtuous and noble king - that is yet sickeningly ugly.

In Tolkien's fiction there are many examples of buildings created with good purposes that have become sickening and ugly. In this respect Minas Morgul, erstwhile Tower of the Rising Moon, is more hideous for the tattered remnants of beauty that hang about its corrupt frame. Meduseld, whilst built with good intentions and housing generations of good kings, is a place of dust and shadows when Gandalf visits it in The King of the Golden Hall, an unwholesome prison for premature old age. To some extent, Erebor and the ruins of Dale have the same effect in The Hobbit, as do the tombs of the men of Cardolan on the Barrow-downs. Tolkien is very good at corrupted locations, and certainly true to the sentiments expressed above.

The rest of the comments in this lecture look like a blueprint for Tolkien's fiction. Faërie should be perilous, and the protagonist of Smith of Wootton Major certainly finds it so. It should be internally consistent and convincing on its own terms: the sheer number of people who learn Sindarin or argue Middle-earth's history is proof of that, although where the consistency fails is often where the most fervent debate may be found. There should be a definite but barely described connection with the real world: in Tolkien's fiction this arises from using the constellations of the world we know, and in earlier drafts of the Silmarillion from deliberately connecting his works and the genuine myths of the North. I leave till last the obvious fact that most of Tolkien's fiction is either about elves or involves them in some way.

That being said, most of Tolkien's work isn't actually written as fairy-story. The Silmarillion is a collection of high myths completely founded in the sub-created world. There is no connection with the primary world unless we allow Ælfwine, a character who is conspicuous by his absence in the 1977 publication. The Lord of the Rings is also only very tenuously connected with primary reality, relying on the description of a familiar world around the very unfamiliar events and characters of the story. Leaf by Niggle is more an allegorical exploration of the sub-creative act, and Farmer Giles of Ham is mock history. Whilst none of his works are actually beast-fables, travellers' tales or other forms of the fantastic, Tolkien's works of fiction are not exactly fairy-stories either.

When we compare a sophisticated fairy-story like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with The Lord of the Rings it's easier to see what I mean. Sir Gawain's adventures begin in reality, at a painstakingly described Christmas feast at the court of Camelot. The festivities are described in terms that are intended to evoke a contemporary court setting, and this detailed realism is carried on throughout the poem, both inside and outside Faërie. The story really begins with the arrival in this real-world setting of the Green Knight, whose outlandish appearance alone announces him as an emissary of the perilous realm. From this point of contact onwards, Gawain is drawn into a shadowy world of conflicting duties, strange magical events and misleading impressions that reach a climax in the second part of the beheading game. After this he returns to the primary world, having learned much about himself and the practice of chivalry. The missing element in LotR is the journey into Faërie: the hobbits are already citizens of Middle-earth; they do not arrive there from our primary reality. The Shire is contained within the secondary reality, in which wizards can arrive bearing fireworks without arousing more than excitement.

I have to ask at this point whether Tolkien was really trying to write fairy-stories at all. Much of what he says in his lecture applies to fantasy as well as his official theme, but I'm by no means sure that we can see his own fiction as a representation of Faërie. However, as an expression of Tolkien's ideas about what fantasy ought to be, this best-known academic foray is as explicit as he allows himself to be. In my opinion he certainly succeeded in describing a world in which a metaphorical green sun could exist, and in most respects he follows the rules he has identified for invented worlds to the letter.

Naturally I've missed a lot of ground, and I may even have misconstrued what Tolkien meant by 'fairy-stories', but hopefully others will find the time to correct me so that this thread can come to better conclusions than mine.