Utopia, the Shire, and World-Building

Note:  Cross-posted from the new blog site, TheImaginativeChristian. Please update your bookmarks to the new site.

In my “Book of Centuries” reading challenge, I have recently read books from or about the 15th and early 16th centuries — including an interesting work, Sir Thomas More’s Utopia (free e-book here).  Thomas More lived in early 16th century England, as a lawyer, judge, statesman, and among King Henry VIII’s advisors; he was also one of the Renaissance humanists and contemporary of Erasmus.  The last seven years of his life are wonderfully told in the movie A Man For All Seasons., More is credited with the creation of the word now well-known in the English language: Utopia.  He wrote this short work, published in 1517, as part satire on late medieval England, describing his vision of the ideal world, an island called Utopia.  This book – following in an ancient tradition of describing an ideal world, and also an early-modern example of “world building” to influence literature in the centuries since — describes in great detail an imaginary place and people, humans who live on a previously undiscovered island, recently visited by one of More’s friends who is telling about it to his colleagues.  We learn about the likes and dislikes of the people of Utopia, what they value as important (and not), how they structure their families, their economy, religious practice, and judicial system.  This BBC article  tells of how Utopia shaped the world through the centuries, inspiring other literary works of Utopias as well as dystopias (H.G. Wells and Orson Welles, for instance) as well as actual planned “utopian” communities.  Through the centuries, many others have been inspired by Thomas More’s Utopia: to their own literary creations — notably, 18th century authors Daniel Defoe (Robinson Crusoe) and Jonathan Swift (Gulliver’s Travels) — or even, especially during the 19th century, their own utopian communal living planned communities.

While reading Utopia I was often reminded of Tolkien’s description of Hobbits and The Shire.  For both are “world building” narrative accounts that describe what a certain type of people are like, who live in a seemingly perfect world.  In both cases, the characters exhibit positive traits not seen in our actual human societies, and as we read them we are reminded that these ideal people are not as sinful and wicked as all of us in our actual societies.  More’s Utopians are communistic (no private property), have no interest in gold or jewels, have a very healthy lifestyle and delight in being healthy (without excessive enjoyment of food), love education and learning, all contribute their work equally and thus only have to work six hours per day, and are spiritually contemplative.

Tolkien’s hobbits of course describe Tolkien’s view of the idyllic life, with some differences.  Yet, like the Utopians, they are peaceful and communal, and are generally not enamored of gold and jewels–and the ones that are, such as the Sackville-Baggins, are notable exceptions.  Similar idyllic/utopian characteristics are that hobbits give others small gifts for their birthdays, and hobbits have never warred with and killed other hobbits.

Tolkien’s genius expands even beyond the basic world-building, of an idyllic society of the Shire — to even include an example, within the actual Middle Earth legendarium, of a character within that world who in his own thoughts comes up with and puts forth in practice his own idea of a “perfect world,” albeit more of a dystopian world.  For that is essentially what Saruman does at Isengard.  Not content with the world as it is, Saruman transforms his part of Middle Earth into a place of machinery and technology, even breeding his own race of Orcs (possibly like the Nephilim/Giants of old) that have abilities beyond previous evil beings.  As Treebeard described the transformation of Isengard by Saruman:

He is plotting to become a Power.  He has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for growing things, except as far as they serve him for the moment. …. He has taken up with foul folk, with the Orcs.  Worse than that: he has been doing something to them; something dangerous.  For these Isengarders are more like wicked Men.  It is a mark of evil things that came in the Great Darkness that they cannot abide the Sun; but Saruman’s Orcs can endure it, even if they hate it.  I wonder what he has done?  Are they Men he has ruined, or has he blended the races of Orcs and Men?  That would be a black evil! . . .

Only lately did I guess that Saruman was to blame… He and his foul folk are making havoc now.  Down on the borders they are felling trees-good trees.  Some of the trees they just cut down and leave to rot – orc-mischief that; but most are hewn up and carried off to feed the fires of Orthanc.  There is always a smoke rising from Isengard these days.

After Saruman is defeated, the Ents transform Isengard into a true utopian place, a garden — in which we have a glimpse of the original paradise, that ideal and utopia that mankind has longed for ever since the Fall and expulsion from that garden of paradise.

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Tragedy and Evil, as shown in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings

From my latest reading of The Hobbit, I observe that the story itself has many parallels to the later “Hobbit Sequel” Lord of the Rings. Indeed, much of what is described in The Hobbit includes similar types of trials and hardship, only described in briefer, simpler terms as appropriate for a child audience. I’ve noticed a similar quality with C.S. Lewis’ “The Chronicles of Narnia,” in how the action and events are expressed in briefer, simpler terms, but the underlying events could be described in more depth as appropriate to a novel for older readers (i.e., Lord of the Rings-style writing).

Similar tragedy and suffering is present, yet described in fewer words with less detail. The dragon had laid waste a large area of land; similar to the land of Mordor, if perhaps on a much smaller scale and perhaps not as extreme destruction as depicted in Frodo and Sam’s visit — yet still Smaug had caused destruction to the land itself, a familiar theme in Tolkien’s writings. Families, men, women and children, and leaders (similar to the people of Rohan and Gondor almost 80 years later), are affected by this tragedy. In “The Hobbit” such events are more at an overview, sketched-out level, in some ways rather like The Silmarillion with its many short stories that are more sketched out and could receive full novel treatment. Yet The Hobbit provides enough detail for its events to be mentioned within the later scope of Fellowship of the Ring and connected to the legendarium.

Bilbo’s conversation with Smaug the Dragon — which has often been compared to a scene in Beowulf — also reminds me of The Voice of Saruman in The Two Towers. (Listening to the audio books of both, with the same narrator Rob Inglis, also contributes some of the effect, with similar “bad guy” voices for Saruman and Smaug.) Evil often works in similar ways, and in both of these accounts much is made of the effect that the enemy’s words and talk have upon the unprepared listeners. In the later event with Saruman, at least the audience (hobbits, men, elf, and dwarf) received some advance warning from Gandalf about what to expect, and then Gandalf himself finally resolved the situation. Bilbo faces the danger without such warning, and soon finds himself tempted with doubts from the evil suggestions of Smaug. Due to their differing situations — Saruman as a trapped beast with nothing left other than his voice, while Smaug was still firmly in charge of his lair inside the mountain — Saruman’s words focus more on his own person, “poor me” who has been attacked and insulted, whereas Smaug comes up with outward suggestions, implanting doubt in Bilbo regarding the logistics of taking the treasure home, yet both seek to divert and distract attention away from the truth and the real causes of conflicts (namely, themselves). In both situations, though, the spoken words of the evil character cause doubts in their hearers and cause them to question what they have understood as the truth.

Of course like all stories, in all of these situations of loss and tragedy, and temptations from evil thoughts, in the providence of the story, help comes and the good wins out. Bilbo, in spite of his doubts, is also able to tell others of the weak spot in the dragon, so that Smaug can finally be defeated. Saruman’s audience has Gandalf for direct aid and relief.

It is also true with God’s Providence in the stories of our own lives, though when we are in the “adventure,” in the middle of the story we don’t always see that – as Samwise famously observed while sitting with Frodo on the doorstep of Cirith Ungol, soon to encounter the monster spider Shelob.

Bilbo and the dwarves and the men of Esgaroth, as well as the characters in Lord of the Rings, went through some extreme situations that would not be very pleasant to actually experience.  The saints of old, whose stories we are familiar with, also experienced suffering, and yet we know the end of their stories as well as the end of The Story — as for instance with Jacob, his son Joseph, with Job, King David, Elijah, and so many others.  The same is true with the lives of saints throughout church history, and even to our own time.

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