A narratively bankrupt Hollywood accelerated its trend of making books into movies this year, with Seabiscuit, Master and Commander, Cold Mountain, and The Return of the King all making appearances at your nearest multi-plex. Each of these books had a loyal readership, but when offered up to mainstream audiences I would have guessed Civil War romance and naval battles would edge out horse racing, and all three would trounce a tale of magic rings, elves, and talking trees. How, then, explain the blockbuster success of the Lord of the Rings films?

Perhaps it’s just a matter of timing. Commentary pages have been buzzing about how escapist tales of right vs. wrong are in great demand among a public weary of the War on Terrorism and the occupation of Iraq. J.R.R. Tolkien himself fought at the Somme in World War I, and it’s probable that he began writing fantasy to escape the horrors of trench warfare, like his countryman A.A. (Winnie-the-Pooh) Milne. And since the ’60s his books have had a following among nerdy high school students with a strong urge to vanish from their surroundings of jocks and Geometry. I read The Lord of the Rings at age sixteen and, though not one for games involving dungeons and funny-sided dice, it was one of my favorite books. What struck me, though, was not the fantasy, but the firm reality of Middle Earth.

Tolkien did not create a new world as much as dig up bits and pieces from European history and folklore and arrange them together harmoniously. Elves, dwarves, and wizards are common in European myth, rings of power appear in Wagner and elsewhere, and the warriors of Rohan and Gondor dress and act like medieval knights. But the real magic of Middle Earth is woven into the language itself. Tolkien spent years perfecting the linguistics of his world. He was a professor of Anglo Saxon at Oxford University, and so many names are rooted in Old English or Old Norse. Frodo, for instance is based on the Old English "frod", which means wisdom by experience, while Sam is short for Samewise, or "half wise". Gandalf appears in the Old Norse poem Volupsa, and most of the Rohan names appear in Beowulf. Mordor is probably from the Old English "morther", meaning mortal sin. Other languages are represented as well—Tolkien created entire elven languages modeled on Welsh and Finnish, and the name Gollum is very similar the "golem" of Jewish folklore. Middle Earth itself is an archaic English term for the ordinary world, as opposed to heaven or hell (or fairyland). For example, the word is used in the old ghost ballad Clerk Saunders:

O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth,
I wot the wild fowls are boding day;
The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,
And I must fare me on my way.

This explains the strange familiarity readers feel when first venturing into Tolkien’s world, and why The Lord of the Rings reads more like a historical epic than a fantasy book. There’s at least as much reality here as in a Tom Clancy or Danielle Steel novel. Every work of fiction, of course, is a fantasy world in some sense; John Updike’s country is as make-believe as J.K. Rowling’s. I sometimes wonder if it isn’t, after all, quite strange that adults spend time reading, studying, and criticizing what are in fact elaborate fairy-tales. It must seem rather odd to non-Western cultures that the lodge-stories they tell their children are here taught at universities. But the truth is that, while there may be some escapism in reading Tolkien, just as there is in reading Shakespeare or Hardy or Philip Roth, we mostly read them because they reveal truths about ourselves and the world around us—they show us reality in a new and more meaningful light.

So much for the escapist theory. I’m afraid that to understand the great popularity of The Return of the King critics will have fall back on such dull things as good story telling, compelling characters, and strong themes. Which reminds me—it’s time to venture into our Winter issue. Here’s your chance to visit a Civil War prison camp in Detroit, see Ayers Rock, spend three weeks in the desert, and bake knishes with a Bolshevik. While you’re at it, take a short vacation to Russia with Bob Hope, and see Patagonia with Bruce Chatwin. We also have Jesmia Avery on the local poetry scene, and Eli Weintraub writing a novel in a month. Happy travels.

- Joel Van Valin