Language and Culture in Lord of the Rings

J. R. R. Tolkien was fascinated with different languages and cultures. He learned Latin, French and German at home, and decided to study Finnish, Welsh and Old Norse. He believed in the  almost magical power of words to change the world as someone who loved language. He also, however, grew up in a time that saw horrors of violence; being born in the Orange Free State, fighting in the World War I, and serving as a codebreaker in World War II, Tolkien saw the effects of war and imperialism on other cultures. Tolkien therefore created in his fiction a universe where cultures are under threat from an imperial power, using his crafted languages to throw the tragedy into high relief using the magic power of words. For example, when the Fellowship was trying to enter Moria, they had to “Speak friend and enter” (Fellowship of the Ring). Only Gandalf knew the old Elvish language that was disappearing from Middle-Earth, but when Frodo finally helped him arrive at the Elvish word for friend, that lost knowledge gave them the magical power to enter. This scene can be viewed as the ways knowledge of lost languages and cultures can unlock knowledge and paths that one would not otherwise be able to take, like Tolkien’s Latin studies and codebreaking. Tolkien also showed how words could be used destructively: Gandalf uses the “Black Speech of Mordor” in front of a council deciding what to do with the ring, and the entire area is described to grow darker and the others at the council cower in fear (Fellowship of the Ring). Tolkien is commenting on how powerful some speech with dark purposes can be with “one ring to rule them all” echoing Germany’s designs on the world that Tolkien had already lived through twice.

Scholars, linguists, anthropologists and geographers even have taken notice of Tolkien’s use of culture and Language in Lord of the Rings. A National Geographic article explains that the loss of a culture, “the collective intellect, memory, and values of a people… language, stories, and art and other objects,” is equivalent to the extinction of a species (para 2). The Middle-Earth universe shows Tolkien’s despair over differing culture and language: “The Elves are disappearing from Middle-earth; … languages that few outside of the Elves speak or understand, are vanishing along with thousands of years of culture and knowledge” (para 4). Tolkien’s study of languages that have died out combined with his witnessing of British imperialism in the Orange Free State with the Afrikaans, indigenous, and British culture fighting contributed to his creation of dying cultures in his literature. He tries to send a message about the significant loss that comes with the end of a culture and a language, and the immense power preserving them has.

“Lord of the Rings in Language Conservation.” National Geographic. National Geographic, 15 Mar. 2007. Web. 16 Oct. 2014. <http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngbeyond/rings/language.html&gt;.

The Old Man and the Sea

Around the same time that J. R. R. Tolkien was creating the vast expanse of Middle Earth, filling his books with geographical excursions that lasted pages, wars that spanned an age, and an epic fight pitting good against evil – needing an entire lexicon to interpret – another American writer focused on simplicity. Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea has been praised for not only its simplicity in language, but also in plot; the conflict is almost entirely internal. The effectiveness of the way Hemingway tells the story derives from the combination of the minimal language and sentence structure with the simplistic plot to evoke a feeling of contemplative pity in the reader; in the absence of elaborate plot and flowery language, the reader is left space to consider the meaning of each word, phrase, sentence, and ultimately feeling that the book offers up. Even when discussing the complex thought of whether the sin of pride or killing something beautiful applied to his hunting of the fish, Hemingway still characterizes Santiago’s thoughts as extremely simplistic. In fact each is a simple sentence: “Do not think about sin, he thought. There are enough problems now without sin. Also I have no understanding of it,” (Chapter 8). Using the lens of the singular plot point, namely Santiago’s struggle with the fish, Hemingway considers the philosophical aspect of human resilience saying, “man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated,” (Chapter 10). These simple sentences in the lull between two action points in the story give the reader a chance to react; this comment is coupled with a great failure only pages later in which Santiago seems to be defeated. The juxtaposition of these ideas in the space of the minimal language allows the reader to develop a sense of pity for the titular old man.

Another contemporary of Hemingway’s, William Faulkner, wrote a one-paragraph review of Hemingway’s opus, either in homage to Hemingway’s simplicity, or because he had been annoyed by it. He joked once that Hemingway “has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary,” but in his review gave the novel praise in the mastery of internal conflict: “Until now, his men and women had made themselves, shaped themselves out of their own clay; their victories and defeats were at the hands of each other… but this time, Hemingway wrote about pity: about something somewhere that made them all.” Faulkner’s statement describes how the agency of the narrative was something bigger than a single action or person. His review ends by praising God that “whatever made and loves and pities Hemingway and me kept him from touching it any further,” because the artistry with which he used so few words made something very complete, and completely inspiring.

Faulkner, William. “Review of The Old Man and the Sea.” Speeches and Essays of William Faulkner. Random House Publishing Group, Apr 20, 2011

Deus Ex: A Revolution in Storytelling

Literature can come in many different forms, and when you mix it with art and entertainment, it can be something groundbreaking. Deus Ex is a revolutionary video game from 2000 that allows the player to assume the character of JC Denton, United Nations Anti-Terrorist Coalition agent as he sets out to combat terrorist forces, which have become increasingly prevalent in a world slipping ever further into chaos in the year 2052. What was so revolutionary about this video game saga that combined the first-person shooter, role playing, and stealth elements is that it was the first to introduce narrative choice to a game of its type; every decision the player makes will alter the story instead of being pigeonholed into having to sit through one narrative with no control. The game developer, Eidos, accomplishes what is the goal of every role-playing video game, player immersion, by offering the player control over the direction of the narrative in both pivotal and non-essential decisions. From the very first moment, when the main character is taking down terrorists in the Statue of Liberty, the player has to make a decision: lethal or non lethal weaponry? The commander will ask, and the player immediately has to decide, which affects how the commander and agency sees the character/player down the road. This forced decision gives you agency over the narrative, and manages to meld the character and player’s decisions. In this way the game can tell a story with a dynamic narrative that allows the player to be a character. Actions that do not affect the story line can also go in multiple different ways. The main character’s brother decides to leave the Anti-Terrorist Coalition at one point in the game. The player can either do nothing, hunt him down, or convince him to come back. The main plot isn’t affected at all, but the story that is told changes based on the decision.

Thierry Nguyen of the review site Computer Gaming World talks at length about the choices that the game offers the player in terms of narrative: “The concept of choice and flexibility is so inherent in the game design that the endgame, too, depends on your choice,” (para 16).  The narrative adapts to the player’s choices  so much so that the player learns what they choice reflects about them in indirect characterization of the main character in the final scenes; at the end of the game the player is given three different options, “all of which are extensions of three different ideologies; it’s up to the player to determine which of these ideals will be followed, and hence, which ending will be seen,” (para 16). No matter how much control a book appears to give, it can’t come close to the immersion of actually making a choice about the narrative, which sets Deus Ex apart as a masterful way to tell a story.

Nguyen, Thierry (2000-09-05). “ZDNet: Computer Gaming World: Reviews: They’re Out to Get Me”.Computer Gaming World. Web. 10/14/14

Revenge: The Modern Countess of Monte Cristo

The ABC series Revenge is a modern reimaging of Dumas’ classic The Count of Monte Cristo that transforms the late 19^th century Frenchman into a young 21^st century woman in the Hamptons. The series borrows much of its plot and style from the Dumas’ work: the intrigue, the characters, the twists and turns, and especially the narrative delay that I talked about in my previous blog. What Revenge adds by bringing Dumas’ story into the here and now, however, is a distinct commentary on the excesses of the wealthiest Americans, drawing on the zeitgeist of the recovery from the Great Recession. A scene that points to this shot at the rich is in Episode 8 when Declan, the impoverished barkeep’s brother, goes on a date to the home of the wealthy and powerful Grayson’s; he says to Victoria Grayson, the most wealthy and distinguished resident of the Hamptons, “I wouldn’t want the food to get cold; I’m sure you’ve been slaving away in the kitchen all day.” After a brief and shocked pause where everyone considers the ridiculousness of this statement, Victoria graciously laughs. The irony is layered; Declan’s statement is clearly ridiculous, namely that a woman of Victoria’s status would have paid someone to cook. In addition, the pause throws his word of “slaving” into high relief, showing that the gap between what is socially acceptable in each of their respective socio-economic statuses is so large that the idea of having to cook her own food for a party is “slavish” to Victoria, and respectable to Declan. While the drama of Dumas’ story is still there, Revenge translates his commentary about French aristocracy and corruption using scenes like this one.

In her New York Times article “When It’s Payback Time in the Gilded Hamptons,” Alessandra Stanley points out the kairos of Revenge: “There is plenty of resentment for the wealthiest Americans, who have coasted through the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression without a tax increase or a dip in lifestyle,” allowing Revenge to play on the 99%’s distrust of the rich, who they already see as corrupt (para 1). Airing Revenge in the post-recession economic environment makes the otherwise outlandish schemes of the wealthy characters slightly more believable. Stanley even remarks that not only current economic environment, but also the past culture of the television drama gives Revenge an edge: “Revenge is a corrective to past nighttime soap operas about the filthy rich that didn’t punish them enough” (para 6). The producers of Revenge have been so successful in reaching their target audience simply because, due to the time they aired it, their target audience was anyone not living the Hamptons lifestyle, and the time felt right to finally see those people punished.

Stanley, Alessandra. “When It’s Payback Time in the Gilded Hamptons.” New York Times. N.p., 21 Sept. 2011. Web. 04 Oct. 2014. <http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/21/arts/television/revenge-on-abc-places-emily-vancamp-in-the-hamptons.html&gt;.

Blog 1: Le Comte de Monte Cristo

In Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, the first section is devoted to the unfortunate downfall of the promising young sailor Edmond Dantes, who, due to circumstances that involve the emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, a forged letter, and an ambitious procurer du roi, lands in a maximum-security prison to rot away. Dumas, like any good high romance author, suspends the action to promote the drama of the situation; he does this by immediately switching the story to a completely new cast characters whose stories are a decade or so after Dantes’ incarceration. At the outset of chapter 25, Dumas breaks down the fourth wall and tells a seemingly new story about an inn in the south of France. Slowly, a figure emerges who styles himself as the Count of Monte Cristo. Dumas doesn’t tell the reader outright, but provides subtle clues throughout the next 50 or so chapters, that he is in fact Dantes, and the old cast of characters have new names and costumes that time makes them don. This switch of perspective to seemingly new but familiar characters, and slow unveiling of the truth mimics the way that Dantes, in the guise of the Count, will slowly take his anonymous revenge throughout the next thousand or so pages.

Adam Roberts’s review of the book has a section that focuses on how the Count goes through “great lengths not to avenge himself directly” (para 5). He does not directly kill his adversaries, and he does his beneficent acts incognito. Dumas mimics this oblique way the count carries out his mission with the way Dumas reveals the character of the count himself. Roberts rightly points out that Dumas presents the count as “a master of disguise and manipulation” who could do whatever he pleased, but that “delay is the narrative watchword” (para 5). In the same way, Dumas suspends the action in order to draw out Dantes’ revenge. Both Dumas’ structuring of the book with a suspension of the action and his slow, methodical revelation of the real character of the Count augment the intense suspense of Dantes’ meticulous doling out of punishment and the way the Count slowly reveals himself. What Robert’s calls the “sheer, brute, glorious interminability” of the novel is attributed to this brilliant layering of form over content on the part of Dumas (para 1).

Roberts, Adams. “The Count of Monte Cristo.” http://www.thevalve.org/go/valve/article/the_count_of_monte_cristo/. Web. 28 August, 2014