“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
This quote has been running through my head on a loop for a few weeks now, for somewhat obvious reasons. But while the state of the world and the ongoing climate catastrophe would have me thinking pessimistic thoughts anyway, my turning to Tolkien for solace is probably a result of my having recently read John Hendrix’s excellent new graphic nonfiction work “The Mythmakers,” which is both a joint biography of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and also a substantial work of literary analysis.
Hendrix gives us full portraits of both men, starting with their childhoods, through their experiences in World War I, and on into their professional lives, with a special focus on their burgeoning friendship and mutual creative achievements, and finishing with a look at their contemporary legacies.
All of this is done in a style that is gorgeous to look upon and rigorous enough for me — a 40-something academic, who’s been reading these authors my entire life — to come away with a new appreciation for both writers, while also being accessible enough for my 8-year-old son to enjoy it as well (he was particularly taken with the wizard and lion narrators; after flipping through a few pages he excitedly told me, “Dad — the narrator is a wizard — like Gandalf! And maybe this lion person is supposed to be like Aslan? But he’s more of a person than Aslan, right?” And he’s right — both the wizard and lion narrators are sort of Gandalf and Aslan, but also clearly Tolkien and Lewis-esque). So, truly, if you like the work of Tolkien and/ or Lewis, or learning about history or literature, or even just looking at beautiful artwork, then this book is a worthwhile pickup during the Christmas season.
But what I found myself thinking about most while reading the book, and what I’ve been reflecting on since I’ve finished it, is the way it foregrounds the connections between faith and artistic creation. This is a central aspect of both Middle Earth and Narnia, though more readers seem to note this presence in Lewis’ work than in Tolkien’s — which is rather ironic, since, as Hendrix’s book emphasizes, Tolkien’s Catholicism was essential to his worldview and played a key role in Lewis’s conversion to Christianity.
Indeed, “The Mythmakers” makes it clear that Lewis’ quick movement from conversion to speaking on the faith, publicly and frequently, bothered Tolkien, who thought this sort of public facing theology should be left to trained theologians and ministers (something that rather vocal new converts in our own day might take to heart!).
Hendrix’s book shows how shared belief helped tie together their circle of friends and informed their literary creations. Tolkien and Lewis and a number of their friends and colleagues, collectively known as the Inklings, would gather on a weekly basis to share and discuss their works in progress and share fellowship. Lewis described their activities this way: “We meet … theoretically to talk about literature, but in fact nearly always to talk about something better. … Is any pleasure on earth as great as a circle of Christian friends by a good fire?” One essential idea of “The Mythmakers” is that these two men needed this community, and particularly their mutual friendship, in order to achieve the fullness of their creative capacities. Without this kind of support and encouragement, Tolkien may never have made his private mythology public, and Lewis might not have pursued his fiction writing at all.
One essential idea of “The Mythmakers” is that these two men needed this community, and particularly their mutual friendship, in order to achieve the fullness of their creative capacities.
Hendrix quotes Lewis as saying, “When the whole group is together, each bringing out all that is best, wisest or funniest in all the others … those are the golden sessions; when four or five of us after a hard day’s walking have come to our inn; when our slippers are on, our feet spread out toward the blaze and our drinks at our elbows; when the whole world, and something beyond the world, opens itself to our minds as we talk … life … has no better gift to give.”
I’ll admit, the picture Hendrix paints of these men (yes, as a product of their time, their group was all male) gathering at the local pub and having pints while reading to each other seems like an idyll. I know reading and writing groups still exist — indeed, the Jesuit Media Lab provides some semblance of this kind of community, and for this I am very grateful. But reading about the regularity with which the Inklings met, and the depth of their commitment to the community, was a good reminder to me to seek this out more in my own life; writing is a lonely process, and there is a deep need for writers to gather, perhaps over a good drink, and share their work in a spirit of camaraderie and also critique (it’s clear that they gave each other honest and sometimes painful feedback).
“The Mythmakers” also helped me to recognize something about the essence of Tolkien’s and Lewis’ work. Hendrix provides a helpful framework on the nature of folklore, epic, fairy tale and myth (he even includes very Tolkien-esque appendices in order to provide more depth and detail than would fit in the ordinary narrative), and he makes the case that we return to these kinds of stories not simply because they are beautiful and moving, but because they reveal something true.
There is a deep need for writers to gather, perhaps over a good drink, and share their work in a spirit of camaraderie and also critique.
The fantasy stories of Tolkien and Lewis contain the themes of “escape, consolation and recovery;” and they demonstrate that a small group of people of goodwill can stand up to overwhelming forces and daunting odds — and succeed. Success won’t come without sacrifice and loss, but the fight is always worth it. These are, of course, universal themes, but as Tolkien says, “We make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are … not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a maker.” Our creations mirror those of the Creator, and the themes of our myths echo the great themes of the salvation story.
As I read this section of “The Mythmakers” I was reminded of Thomas Merton’s advice to the Catholic activist Jim Forest, who was near despair over the apathetic response of America, and particularly Catholic America, to the Vietnam War. Merton wrote: “Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all. … In the end … it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything.” And this, too, is what “The Mythmakers” shows us: We must create and support each other in our creations, believing that what we create matters in ways we don’t fully understand.
There is a spiritual dimension to this work that will only achieve its purpose in the fullness of time. We are living through dark and challenging times, and we may feel despair over our ability to bring about meaningful change, but nevertheless we must continue to show up, do the work and foster the necessary relationships that will help us persevere.
Photos of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, public domain