Ever since the proverbial excreta obliterated the fan, around about six months ago, which brutally terminated a relatively long period of happiness – so odd and unusual for me (happiness, that is) I posted on here about it a few times – I’ve been struggling with depression in ways that, whilst very normal and familiar to me, are yet, by their degrees, esp’ sometimes – like right now – much worse.
Anyway, amongst the many ways I seek to ward off that ol’ black-eyed dog – which can include such humdrum therapies as watching tennis or snooker on TV or online – occasionally I’ll opt to read. Reading used to be a very frequent pleasure. But maybe I over-read? *
And so it is that now I sometimes don’t have the energy to even read! That said, at present I’m revisiting an old favourite, Tolkien’s The Hobbit. For anyone who doesn’t get Tolkien, I’m not going to make a case for him here, at least not beyond simply celebrating what it is I love about his writing.
Sadly I think the whole Jackson/Spielberg Hollywoodification of his works has debased the finest aspects of the Tolkienian universe. But again, I’m going to try not be distracted – aside from acknowledging this dimension – from my own personal encomiums!
As I’ve written elsewhere before, one or more editions of the LOTR had some dust jacket blurb describing Tolkien’s writing as ‘epic yet homely’. The best three word synopsis of his style ever penned.
Hi writings are filled with romanticism, lyricism, nostalgia, melancholy, all things that resonate deeply with my rather maudlin soul. And a love of nature, and beauty, and storytelling, and so on. I could go on!
Now to the second book. A book I have read, albeit not in the format that I’m posting about.
Whilst reading and enjoying the lovely 75th anniversary edition of The Hobbit I recalled that I’d read about some guy doing an illuminated manuscript of something by Tolkien. I couldn’t recall which work: was it also The Hobbit? Nope… ‘twasn’t. Turns out it was The Silmarillion.
A bit of Googling turned up this, an interview with Benjamin Harff, a German artist/illustrator, who chose to do an illuminated rendering of The Silmarillion for his ‘exam at the Art Academy’, as he puts it. We might call his project a thesis, or something similar, or ‘degree project’?
Apparently Harff has been tugging at the sleeves of the Tolkien estate, and all to no avail, so far. That’s sad. This looks like something at least as deserving of the backing of the official Tolkien ‘branding machine’ (as, one supposes, and sadly so, it’s become, in our hyper-crapitalist times), perhaps even more so, as the above mentioned films.
Anyway, for now all most of us can hope to enjoy, of this ambitious and impressive work, are the few snippets out there on’t interweb, such as this:
If ever it is properly finished and published, I want a copy!
In the meantime, it’s back to my 75th Anniversary edition of The Hobbit. Oh, but before I sign off, I believe the Tolkien Empire is shortly to publish yet another edition of Said Hobbit, which, like the 75th, is to be illustrated solely by Tolkien himself, only this time with even more of his archival artwork.
Read more about that or even order it here. I will definitely be getting this. By hook or by crook!
It’s now 1.11am, as I return to this post to add a rather pathetic and desperate coda: can Tolkien save my life? I’ve said the same of a number of things recently (though I can’t recall what right now?). And I mean it.
If the record that’s stuck in a groove in my head is constantly repeating ‘kill yourself, it’s the only way out’, as it is or has been just now, and so often does, can reading Tolkien’s The Hobbit help see me through another hopeless night?
Only time will tell, I guess?
* As a reviewer for both Amazon Vine and Pen & Sword reading/reviewing changed from hobby and passion to obligation and drudgery, as is so often the crapitalist way.