The Nightmare World of Tolkien

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

The similarity here with Lovecraft's style is uncanny. The possibility of a connection of sorts is beginning to intrigue me.

Weren't Tolkien and Lovecraft both readers of Lord Dunsany? That's a possible connection, particularly in light of the fact that both of them invented, apparently independently, systems of interconnected myths.

There are striking similarities in some passages between these two authors, but there are also some notable differences. Lovecraft tended to write whole stories in his lavish baroque style, whereas Tolkien's style is much more variable. Tolkien is also far more able to retain speech patterns appropriate to his characters, whereas Lovecraft sometimes strays into high mimesis when reporting the speech of the uneducated, as in The Shadow over Innsmouth and Beyond the Wall of Sleep. Also Lovecraft's use of diary entries and newspaper clippings to tie in his legends with the modern world weren't employed at all by Tolkien except in The Notion Club Papers, which he never finished.

The greatest difference between them, however, seems to be in the philosophy of their respective mythologies. Lovecraft's universe is a dark and meaningless playground for elemental and indifferent powers of awesome magnitude, capable of destroying humanity and driving individual people mad simply with the knowledge of their existence; Tolkien's is a monotheistic construction, ruled by an omnipotent and benevolent deity for the benefit of his creations. In this more than any other aspect we see the profound philosophical differences between the two authors: Lovecraft was an atheist and committed materialist, who treated all fantastic stories as works of pure imagination, and his view of mankind is a scientific one; for him, human existence is a frail thing surrounded by gigantic forces that could destroy it at any moment. Tolkien, on the other hand, believed in just the sort of universe that he portrayed in his fiction: an ordered and structured reality ruled over by a benevolent dictator of unlimited power and unquestionable authority, and in which the thinking beings of his cosmos have a central rôle to play. On a more trivial note, Tolkien would probably have disapproved of Lovecraft's naming conventions, in which proper nouns seem to have been plucked out of the air, with little phonological relationship between them.

Having said that, there is a relish in the language both writers use; a simple delight in the sound of a word and the fall of a sentence. Both composed very rhythmic, almost hypnotic prose when the mood took them, and both liked to introduce their works as the writings of actual third parties. This could be the result of sharing preferred authors, but since Lovecraft's career was over before Tolkien's really got started, there's always an admittedly remote possibility at least that Tolkien knew of Lovecraft.

In my opinion, the use by these writers of hint and allusion to build a picture of horror is the right direction to take. A detailed description gives the reader something concrete, which may or may not terrify. Veiled threats are far more disturbing and therefore far more effective. Indeed, in some of Lovecraft's fiction, such as The Temple, the reader never finds out even what is causing the strange events, and must imagine most of the background for himself. I particularly liked Tolkien's 'nameless things': in two words, he implies that there are things in the world which fit into no exact place in his mythos; things more terrifying and horrible even than a balrog of Morgoth, and which even Gandalf will not openly describe. Perhaps that's why I dislike David Day's ascription of the name 'Kraken' to the Watcher in the Water: it removes some of the mystery and horror of that character by giving it a species and a form, and by relating it to the mythical sea-monster of Northern legend. Tolkien and Lovecraft both knew that something unnamed and unnameable is far more terrifying than something which can be recognised and catalogued.

I've strayed over a lot of ground, effectively to come back to where I started. Could there be a connection? Although the younger man, Lovecraft began to publish fiction before Tolkien; and although he was not very well known in his own time, it's possible that another enthusiast of the fantastic might have seen some of his writing. On the whole I think it doubtful, since Oxford is a long way from Providence and Weird Tales did not circulate in Britain, but the two authors certainly shared at least some influences. What a strange discovery it would be, though, to discover that at the end of the Straight Path, Cthulhu Phtagn.

[Lalwendë]

Originally Posted by The Squatter of Amon Rûdh

In my opinion, the use by these writers of hint and allusion to build a picture of horror is the right direction to take. A detailed description gives the reader something concrete, which may or may not terrify. Veiled threats are far more disturbing and therefore far more effective. Indeed, in some of Lovecraft's fiction, such as The Temple, the reader never finds out even what is causing the strange events, and must imagine most of the background for himself. I particularly liked Tolkien's 'nameless things': in two words, he implies that there are things in the world which fit into no exact place in his mythos; things more terrifying and horrible even than a balrog of Morgoth, and which even Gandalf will not openly describe. Perhaps that's why I dislike David Day's ascription of the name 'Kraken' to the Watcher in the Water: it removes some of the mystery and horror of that character by giving it a species and a form, and by relating it to the mythical sea-monster of Northern legend. Tolkien and Lovecraft both knew that something unnamed and unnameable is far more terrifying than something which can be recognised and catalogued.

This interested me as I was looking at a postcard of Maddo, Tolkien's drawing of his son Michael's nightmare, a limbless black hand that used to creep across the curtains at night and draw them open. There was also a drawing he made of Owlamoo, another of Michael's nightmares, an owl which stared at him through the night. In Artist & Illustrator it's suggested that Tolkien drew these figures for his son from his descriptions as a way of bringing the monsters into the light and turning them into real mythological figures of the nursery rather than leaving them as nameless, terrifying 'things'.

Scull and Hammond also mention Tolkien's lifelong nightmare of the devastating wave and suggest he gave the nightmare to Faramir as a way of laying it to rest in his own mind. The idea is that a nightmare brought out into the cold light of day becomes then much less terrifying once given form and name, so I think he was well aware that leaving something unnamed and without form would be much more terrifying.

These shadowy edges like the nameless things in the depths of Moria allow the reader to place their own nightmare imaginings there, whether they be boggarts, the 'boogey man', demons or Maddo. Everyone remembers being a child and how despite the world outside the door being a frightening place, the bedroom at night could be the most frightening place of all, with beds to be checked for lurking montsters, curtains to be drawn tightly and shadows to be watched all night long. Tolkien reflects that with relish.

I heard this weekend too about his lecture on Dragons in the University Museum, something which he also gave with relish to fire the imagination of listeners.

I don't know if this kind of elemental fear is due to the Id or something like that? Maybe someone can tell us?

And if anyone's interested, there's a fascinating section in Artist & Illustrator that's relevant to this topic - it includes several quite sinister, symbolic drawings by the young Tolkien which suggest what his own 'nightmare visions' might have been.

[doug*platypus]

Great thread, Lalwendë! It is only fit that we celebrate the horrific descriptions of the evil beings and doings in Middle Earth. Tolkien's writing is as fluid and effective when discussing terror and brutality as it is when describing scenes of pure joy and ecstasy such as Cerin Amroth or Frodo's voyage into the west.

One of the most frightening moments in what is, at times, a terrifying book, is the assault on Crickhollow:

A feeling of fear had been growing on him all day, and he was unable to rest or go to bed: there was a brooding threat in the breathless night-air. As he stared out into the gloom, a black shadow moved under the trees: the gate seemed to open of its own accord and close again without a sound. Terror seized him.

Tolkien, it seems, uses several devices to convey terror. In this instance, rather than describing the Black Riders with gruesome language, he allows us to step into Fatty Bolger's shoes and experience what they made him feel. Absolute, mind-numbing and body seizing terror. It is some credit to Fredegar that he manages to escape and raise the alarm, rather than simply quivering in fright under the bed!

Further on in A Knife in the Dark we are with the hobbits and Strider in the dell under Weathertop, waiting for evil to assail them. Again, we are party to the fear that grips the hobbits as the enemy approaches:

"I don't know what it is," he said, "but I suddenly felt afraid. I durstn't go outside this dell for any money..."

This is most effective, and makes for great reading! These passages are right in keeping with where we are in the story in The Fellowship of the Ring, when the Black Riders are still quite mysterious, and the hobbits have not seen them up close and personal. In the subsequent volumes, as we get nearer to Mordor and become embroiled in the War of the Ring, the language gets more and more descriptive and the horror is revealed to us a little bit more each time. Gollum is played along a similar line. He and the Nazgûl do not become less frightening with each mention of them; quite the opposite. Every time we encounter them, Tolkien ups the ante and reveals more of their horror (and in the case of Gollum, pathos).

Tolkien makes the horror aspect of the book work extremely well, and we are never fooled into thinking that the forces of evil are anything but that. Granted, we have a nice conversation between Shagrat and Gorbag, but a few hours later they are sticking knives into each other and Shagrat lets out "a horrible gurgling yell of triumph" as he deals to his former friend.

As an aside, I wish that PJ and co had done more to translate the horror aspects of LOTR to the big screen. There were a few scenes that were kind of scary, but in general I think that things were revealed too soon, and the mystery was lost. I never felt truly terrified. But I will save that discussion for the Movies forum.