Every year, I like to write a little postscript to my September Series posts — something that, while it might be congruent with them in some way, is nonetheless a digression. This year, given that the Series has been comprised entirely of creative works by me, I wanted to do something a little different, and something a little self-indulgent — I wanted to write up a few comments on each piece, to explain something of their origins and what I was interested in working with. This is, of course, a wholly unnecessary exercise in many ways. Ideally, each piece should…
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By Khazad-dûm, the black pit rank,Hewed dwarf and orc in vengeful rage.To gaping gate the shortbeard sprang,Spirit raising, eyes a-blazing,Axe-stroke hewing, orc-king falling.Yet sudden stopped he at gateway’s edge,Flames espying, shadows crawling.‘Not now,’ Dáin said, and back he stepped.By Ravenhill, green-mound rising,Stood dwarf and elf, grim-grudgeful waiting.With ringing voice the fullbeard spake,Of hoard-gold glowing, glory growing,Mattocks raising with new-king’s raving.Yet doubt remained in dwarf-lord’s mind of⏝king’s-wrath heedless, violence staving.‘Not now,’ Dáin said, and held his step.By Erebor, grey mountain bare,Pressed man on dwarf in desperate strife.In fortress mouth the whitebeard stood,Red-axe swinging, war-cry ringing,Forward pressed the foe to breach the…
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I’ve always loved the drama of Holy Week. The hollow triumph and fleeting glory of Palm Sunday, that passes from earthly and impermanent celebration into passion and betrayal and loss. The uncomfortable weight and rising tension that builds through Monday to Wednesday. The almost painful intimacy of Maundy Thursday, as the New Covenant supersedes the Old and the great sacrifice commences. The dreadful grief and highest sorrow of Good Friday. And then, of course, the stillness and deathly rest of Holy Saturday, that in turn (as the sun sets and the world is cast anew into shadow) sees light burn…
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But the “consolation” of fairy-tales has another aspect than the imaginative satisfaction of ancient desires. Far more important is the Consolation of the Happy Ending. Almost I would venture to assert that all complete fairy-stories must have it. At least I would say that Tragedy is the true form of Drama, its highest function; but the opposite is true of Fairy-story. Since we do not appear to possess a word that expresses this opposite—I will call it Eucatastrophe. The eucatastrophic tale is the true form of fairy-tale, and its highest function. The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy…
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To the elvish craft, Enchantment, Fantasy aspires…Uncorrupted, it does not seek delusion nor bewitchment and domination; it seeks shared enrichment, partners in making and delight, not slaves. On Fairy Stories, by J.R.R. Tolkien I’m really stuck on On Fairy Stories at the moment. I mean, if I’m honest, I’ve been thinking about OFS on some level ever since the very first time it truly made an impact on me some years back. But at the moment, it’s obviously really playing on my mind, because wherever I look, I see some fresh relevance to it in my day to day life…
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