So, this is my second time reading through The Silmarillion.
And I will admit: I’m not actually done with it yet. But, I’ve finished the actual “Silmarillion” portion of it, and I’m on to Akallabeth (which doesn’t mean a lot of you know how the book is broken down, but, still…)
But this being my second time, through, I think it’s still worth reviewing. Especially since my last couple books were decidedly “last month”, fitting my very Gothic kick in October.
Oh, Gothic, how I love thee.
My point, however, is that it’s my blog post and I’ll cheat if I want to.
Since this is my second time reading The Silmarillion, I had rather different expectations going in. It had been years and years since I picked it up, though I had always meant to read it again (thus me actually owning it). So I had forgotten a lot, but it was actually a lot less than I thought.
So I was pretty excited to be able to wait expectantly for my favorite parts to return. To recognize certain characters like old friends, and to fall in love, again, with the entire world. The Lord of the Rings is a work that is ageless in many ways. It delves deeply into the human experience, without dragging you into the darkness. Even when it dips there itself.
With the exception of one story, I think that is the same with The Silmarillion. It is, admittedly, a lot darker than The Lord of the Rings. Where Lord of the Rings has hordes of goblins and epic heroes who somehow destroy them all, The Silmarillion dips into tragedies of greed, civil war, racism, and genocide.
That sounds dark, right? But in it all, Tolkien keeps his trademark skill of presenting the tragedies through the lense of hope and purpose. Through the worst moments, the heroes are truly heroic, even when their deeds aren’t rewarded with victory. Good is clearly good, and while evil might hide its face now and then, we the audience are never led astray. And while there are sorrowful moments scattered across the story, the focus is always on the beauty and hopefulness.
With few exceptions.
But, like I said. This is my second time reading this book. So, what was different this time?
I did mention that I remembered a lot more than I expected, which was a pleasant surprise. But I was a bit unsettled to see just how differently I remembered them.
During my first reading, I was much younger, and very VERY much more sheltered. That probably had a good deal to do with my reaction.
But I remember moments in this book being much more emotionally impactful then they are now. So many poignant pieces of this story are super clear in my head because I FELT so much for these characters.
I remember being emotionally wrecked for days after certain moments. I remember feeling like I was part of the story, fighting alongside the elves and men. Mourning the losses like they were my own family. Devastated by the darkness and enthralled by the victories.
It was, to say the least, a very emotional experience for me. I think my personal faith and journey to adulthood was more impacted by the writing of Tolkien than by any of the many Christian Non-fiction books I read. And The Silmarillion is no exception.
So, it wasn’t the same this time.
And that’s not saying that it isn’t still brilliant. I just had a weird moment when I realized how different my life is now, from what it was then. I was so sure, as a teenager, that I had “arrived” in so many ways. But isn’t it crazy how much growing we have left to do, all the time.
The Silmarillion still has had an impact, and filled my imagination and my thoughts, but not in the way it did when I was younger. I’ve experienced too much since then.
Some books come to us at just the right time. This book was that for me. But the time has passed and while I still love it, I feel more like an elf standing at the shore on their passage to the Grey Shores. The things I love so much are there, but they are a shadow, tinged by grief because they aren’t the same anymore. Life does that to the things we love. But it also brings us new things to love
And those first things are still beautiful!
