[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

I've always felt that the greatest artistic works defy quantification. People seem either to love or hate Tolkien, which I regard as a token of supreme achievement; after all, there's nothing truly remarkable that inspires indifference or vague satisfaction. Tolkien's writing leaves me with a lump in my throat and an indefinable consciousness of the presence of beauty. At the risk of descending into hyperbole, I could express the sensation with the following lines, which have much the same effect on me:

And while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Would that every work of fiction could be so evocative.

[ May 31, 2002: Message edited by: Squatter of Amon Rudh ]