ok, my ability to read exciting subtexts into things failed me on that one; apologies if I misinterpreted what you said originally, by the way. I'm starting to think I should have "Irony may be defined as what people miss" as my signature.
and in case you were wondering, I was hardly implying that they were all having rampant orgies all over the place! Just that, judging by Tolkien's usual way of portraying romantic relationships (if that's the word), the men seem to fit into that almost better than the straight couples do.
though while we're being filthy-minded, has anyone else ever wondered why the Elven population was decreasing (I think someone mentions that somewhere, Tolkien experts will doubtless know where) when they were all immortal and led fairly peaceful lives? whaddya reckon, genetic fertility problems or separate bedrooms? the hobbits certainly made up for it - how many kids did faithful old Rosie bear her Sam again? ouch, he's one of the more attractive propositions in the novel as husbands go, but a lifetime of childbearing has never appealed to me personally. you can just see it: "Elves Hold Family Planning Clinics to help Shire Overpopulation Problem."
actually, now I come to think of it, that's quite an interesting topic. the hobbits are very fertile folk in the way they're portrayed: vital, always eating and drinking, large families, love of gardening, closeness to the earth. Now the elves might also be keen on trees, but they strike you as rather sterile despite that, no? Does anyone know if anyone's actually explored images of fertility (and repressed sexuality, maybe) in LotR? can't be bothered to raid the library and find out right now. and sorry, chaps and chapesses, but when I finish this degree I plan to do my thesis on either gender-bending in Shakespeare (think of the comedies, mainly), or lesbian writing in the seventeenth century (great fun, they spend half the time taking the **** out of those over-inflated male poets), so I'm not planning to research it myself.
and for those who still think that all this discussion is dirty-minded, I have two things to say. One is if you don't want to talk about sex, don't study literature (my aunt, who teaches at uni, told me this when I was whingeing about yet more irritating sexal imagery in Wordsworth). Two, I'm actually fairly restrained, as they go. The number of critics who are so busy making everything ridiculously sexual drives me up the wall (you know, not another book on how Angelo in Measure for Measure fancies Isabella because he thinks she's his mummy). And so few of them seem to have a sense of humour, too.
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