"Before we begin," said Victoria,
"How many of you read past Fellowship
to the end of The Lord of the Rings?"
(and they all had).
"Only once through?"
Gary asked Cristina,
because she is the one
who reads fastest,
which is fortunate,
because she is also the one
with three young children.
"This month: once," said Cristina
(but she first read the book
when she was ten, and read it again
when she was ten, and read it again
when she was ten, and the funny part
is that tonight is her first chance
to discuss it).
"It is a truth universally acknowledged,"
said Victoria, "that Tolkien's world-building
is masterful, but many criticize his characterization.
I disagree. He doesn't need to tell me
about Sam's childhood to make me like Sam."
"It was because of Sam,"
said Cristina, "that I liked Frodo
the first time,
because Sam loved him.
But now I like Frodo
for himself --
when he said to Glóin
that he would rather see Bilbo--"
"--than all the towers and palaces
in the world," said Victoria. "Yes."
"I liked Frodo," said Kate,
"because he's like me.
He messed up. He was unhappy.
But I hated Arwen,
because she's perfect."
"I loved Arwen," said Gary,
"because she is perfect."
"I loved Arwen," said Harold,
"because she is sad.
It's all sad,
the whole book.
I think Tolkien
must have been sad
when he wrote it--"
"--for thirteen years?" said Victoria.
"He started in 1936, and didn't finish
until 1949--"
"--while he wrote," said Cristina.
"Maybe he put his sadness
into his writing.
But I wish it were longer.
I could read it forever."
"Try The Silmarillion," said Liz,
"it took me a whole summer
and it felt like forever."
(Cristina didn't say she finished
The Silmarillion in a week, when she was twelve,
because Liz was right:
that week had seemed peculiarly long,
and she would have given up,
several times, except that
Tolkien wrote it.)
"Apart from Arwen," said Victoria,
"was there anything you disliked?"
Pause.
"Well," said Kate,
"I expect I ought to have liked the poems,
but I didn't.
I don't like poetry."
"I expect I ought NOT to have liked the poems,
because they weren't inscrutable enough,"
said Victoria, "but I liked them very much.
Perhaps because I am older than most of you,
I particularly liked Bilbo's poem in Rivendell,
'I sit beside the fire and think--'"
"--yes!" said Cristina,
"'in every wood in every spring--'"
"'--there is a different green,'"
said Victoria. "Yes. Exactly."
The cuckoo clock on the wall
chirped eight times
and Cristina told it in her heart
to stop,
to let there be time
to discuss every chapter,
every poem, every character
with Victoria
(and the others, but Victoria most)
before Antonio came to pick her up,
and then let time stop again
so she could tell him everything
she doesn't have time to say,
and stop again
so the children
could stay in her arms
longer,
and never to come
to nine o'clock
or the Grey Havens
or any ending.
(First published in Songs of Eretz Poetry Review)
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