[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

I've just finished reading A Long-Expected Party for this thread, and as so often happens when re-reading Tolkien, the book has shown me a completely new facet. There is social commentary and comedy here that rivals Jane Austen, and Tolkien uses many of the same techniques to set the scene, and tell us about the dramatis personae of the earlier chapters and the world which they inhabit.

There is far too much subtle social humour here for me to lay it all before you in one post, but some examples immediately spring to mind that made me laugh, even on this the (I think) seventh reading. The description of Bilbo's speech stands out particularly in this respect: the matter and style of the character's address is picked up and carried on by the narrator to build a picture of simple rustic society reminiscent of some scenes from Flaubert or Hardy, with all the good-natured satire that seems to have been second-nature to Tolkien:

They were sipping their favourite drinks, and nibbling at their favourite dainties, and their fears were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop.

Surely anyone who has been present at a wedding will recognise this sketch of a sympathetic audience, their knowledge of the host's oratorical eccentricities lulled by a sufficiency of food and drink. There is everything here to suggest that Bilbo will have to do something spectacular to avoid finishing his address with anything other than a standing ovation. Indeed, the first portion of his speech is received very well: "Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious."

Soon, though, Bilbo makes the great mistake of many public speakers: he makes his audience think about what he's saying. The description of his much-quoted 'half as much' speech and its reception is a classic: "This was unexpected and rather difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment."

Tolkien has more to offer us in the way of well-observed situation comedy than this, though. The conversation with which he begins the chapter reminds me so strongly of actually being in a pub that it almost deserves to be read in one. Hobbits are holding forth and pontificating wildly, gossiping and refusing to listen to the most knowledgeable because their views do not allow the romantic folklore that is already building up around Bag End and its inhabitants. Hamfast Gamgee, as a rustic patriarch, is revealed as a fount of earthy wisdom and biting if simple wit: "'And you can say what you like, about what you know no more of than you do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,' retorted the Gaffer , disliking the miller even more than usual. 'If that's being queer , then we could all do with a bit more queerness in these parts.'"

Quite rightly, Tolkien decides to begin his portrait of this rustic community in its foremost social centre: the inn. He shares with Sherlock Holmes the belief that one may learn anything of moment in a small community by visiting the public house, and indeed we learn there Frodo's ancestry, what he has been doing prior to his adoption, how he came to be adopted and how this is seen in the community. We learn more about Sam in the few lines of Hamfast's speech than we do in the rest of the chapter, and we begin to see the inevitable dark side of gossip in the Shire, and the intense parochialism of many of its inhabitants. All of this in a couple of pages of dialogue, and people still have the effrontery to say that Tolkien wasn't a character writer.

Later, Bilbo is revealed as a generous, insightful and playfully witty gift-giver. The descriptions of various presents are hilarious, particularly in my opinion "For the collection of HUGO BRACEGIRDLE, from a contributor." I'm sure that all of us have known at some time a person who was somewhat unreliable at returning books.

However, the gentle comedy masks a tension that Tolkien begins to build right at the beginning of the chapter. When Tolkien says "At ninety-nine they began to call him well-preserved; but unchanged would have been nearer the mark" warning bells immediately begin to ring. This phrase comes like Evangelist's scroll, saying "Flee from wrath to come," and it is followed by the words of anonymous gossips: "It will have to be paid for... It isn't natural, and trouble will come of it!" Bilbo's longevity is indeed not natural, and indeed it does have to be paid for, although typically of Tolkien's writing, the speakers have no conception of the weight of the payment.

Having brought the comedy to its climax in Bilbo's disappearance, and before gently satirising hobbits again at the gift-giving, Tolkien adds a little more tension to the narrative with Bilbo's scene with Gandalf. This, too, is a revelation: like Bilbo, we have never been led to believe that there is anything more to Gandalf than the wise old wizard from The Hobbit; but here we see Gandalf the Grey, member of the White Council and advisor to the great and the good, for the first time. Gandalf does not, however, take centre stage. That honour is reserved for Bilbo's birthday present: the Ring itself, already revealing at this early stage its sinister identity: "'It is mine, I tell you. My own. My precious. Yes, my precious." This is probably the most sinister moment in the entire chapter, with Bilbo assuming the staccato verbal pattern of Gollum while applying his epithet to the Ring. This is the first hint that Gollum might not always have been as we know him, and that something else, something now owned by Bilbo, was making him so. Gandalf's reaction is also something to be feared. Gandalf is worried, and for those who have read The Hobbit, a worried Gandalf is something to make the wise sit up and take notice. Only later in the story do we realise exactly how terrifying it is, either that Gandalf is concerned or that he threatens to uncloak himself.

So we move from the light social banter of the Ivy Bush to Bilbo's thoughtful pose as he finishes the first verse of his walking song, to Gandalf's veiled warnings about the Ring. On the surface, the hobbits are continuing their comical, petty, sheltered lives, but one can almost hear the ominous murmur of John Keats in the background:

Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings in the human mart?
Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb.

[EDIT]
Another thought occurs to me: Tolkien is playing a game with his readers throughout this entire chapter. The title and the tone suggest The Hobbit and yet beneath that there is a suggestion of what is to come. The title of the chapter suggests that there will be no surprises, but we are in for one greater than that of the Unexpected Party. Tolkien drops hints about his plans, such as someone closely involved with the party arrangements might have picked up, but essentially Bilbo's disappearance is unprecedented. He plays with anticipation and expectation to leave the reader, who on the surface has just finished reading a comic tale of country folk, with a sense of foreboding. The tension that is built up here will be realised in the next chapter, and will continue a theme of gradually building tension relieved by increasingly dramatic scenes that certain film directors would give their eye teeth to be able to achieve. Although it may appear that Tolkien is beginning in a completely inappropriate tone, he is simply building up to the main events of his narrative at his own pace and not allowing himself to be rushed by the reader's expectations. The wise reader will thank him for this later as more of the wide world beyond the Shire is revealed.

This chapter is, of course, accompanied by a map depicting a part of the Shire, and I would like to point out how Tolkien's knowledge of English onomastics plays a part here. All of the names you will see on that map either are or could be real English place names. Newbury in Buckland bears the same name as a Berkshire market town, just as there really are places called Stock and Bucklebury. Michel Delving on the White Downs bears a striking resemblance to Micheldever near Winchester, which is also situated on some chalk downs, as are much of Berkshire and Oxfordshire. Tolkien holidayed more than once in Lyme Regis and Sidmouth, and there is an echo of the Devonshire town of Honiton in the centre of the narrative. All in all, for the English reader, this is supposed to be familiar territory, and this too serves to lull that reader into a sense of security, offering little in the way of a hint at the strange and terrifying vistas of legend into which Tolkien is about to plunge them.