The Quenta Silmarillion Eucatastrophe-less

[Bêthberry]

Catching up here, but perhaps the catching up has its value, in putting several posts into perspective.

It is well to remember that the text of The Silm which we have is not like other literary texts. It does not come down to us with the impremature of the man who conceived it. It was compiled and published postumously. And in so being, parts of it arise from the hand of its editor. It is not a uniformly coherent text the same way that many modern stories are. But then neither are our forms of ancient myths.

Another point it is well to ponder is that the events of The Silm were constantly being reconsidered by that primary author. ChristopherTolkien tells us (in the Foreward to my edition) that "considered simply as a large narrative structure, [The Silm] underwent relatively little radical change; it became a fixed tradition, and background to later writings." Then, then, he goes on to describe it what changes and variants it did undergo. HoMe and UT shows us just how various and variable were those changes.

Christopher's most important comment about those changes refers to how Tolkien's own persective on the narrative changed.

In his later writings mythology and poetry sank down behind his theological and philosophical preoccupations: from which arose incompatibilities of tone.

I wonder if there is more than just 'incompatibility of tone" however. I wonder if Christopher does not put a gloss on the changes and so distract us from some of the possibilities here.

This, at least, is my way of understanding The Silm. It is a book which reflects multiple intentions and perspectives, begun with the delight in philology and mythology. And later emended to reflect Tolkien's theological interest, "consciously so in the revision." (I'm relying on memory here when quoting it.)

So we have an author who believed that his story reflected something at first unconsciously which he then worked to make more consistent. This is Tolkien's later explanation of his intention. But, for me, for the book we now have, that reading back into the story as well as his memory obscures some of the very intriguing points of the book. Please note I am not saying Tolkien was wrong. What I am saying is that we can read The Silm for its earlier, incoherent "intention". And by intention I mean that we can see the seams of the story as it first began rather than, always, as theology it became. This is not to denigrate Tolkien's personal beliefs or to deny the philosophical aspects.

We have two versions of the creation in Ainulindale and Valaquenta--in itself a reflection of the two versions of creation in Genesis. But to me, particulalry in Valaquenta I have always imagined the Valar similar to the stories of the ancient Greek and Roman gods and goddesses which I read as a child, particularly in the way they are ascribed different aspects. And then in their bickering and rivalries and sometimes unsympathetic responses to the elves. The ancient divinities I have seen as amoral, selfish, petty and petulant. Then add to that other mythologies and legends. Thus, in The Silm I see a palimpsest (a piece of paper on which the original writing was partially or incompletely erased and then overwritten by other writing). It shimmers to me with these possibilities, that the less philosophical or less theological still can be glimpsed. This is, to me, what accounts for the kind of frustration which Imladris has identified here. (And I apologise in advance if this misrepresents her perspective.) And also accounts for how the book can be read in so many different ways, as Helen suggested here when she said she first read it as encyclopedic but then had a different experience on rereading. Or Son of Numemor's experience.

It will be obvious that I bring to my reading of The Silm everything that I have read before reading it--as we all do. And that everything I have read is itself subtly changed by reading Tolkien's work. This is why, for me, the question of whether the eucatastrophe 'exists' in the text or in the reader is a fruitless dichotomy. It exists where the reader brings his or her mind to bear on the story, in that eighteen inches or so between the book and our eyes. And then in our memories.