Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Thoughts on J. R. R. Tolkien’s “The Legend of Sigurd & GudrĂșn”

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

 
Sigurd Gudrun imageThis is the kind of book that most people will likely not enjoy unless they have a prior investment in it - and a love for Tolkien’s popular works will not necessarily be enough.
It does not continue the saga of his own Middle Earth mythology, nor delve into the background and writing process of that saga. The ‘essay’ that is found within it is not exactly ‘cutting edge’ criticism (which the editor, Christopher Tolkien, seems at times in the introduction to bend ov
er backwards to emphasize), and the poetry itself may lack the certain 'sparks’ that modern poetry readers are used to being engaged by. But it definitely has enough ‘sparks’ of its own, and, as Tolkien suggests,  “To hit you  in the eye was the deliberate intention of the Norse poet” (18).

But what will draw readers to appreciate and enjoy this publication? What drew me? Firstly, the introductory essay, or more accurately put, lecture (for it is based on notes from a lecture delivered by Tolkien on the Norse texts) is interesting to read quite simply because it represents Tolkien’s thoughts, criticism and even teaching style at a particular moment, now passed. Christopher Tolkien does a good job of including as much of Tolkien’s own writings as he can, even if they were quickly scrawled notes in pencil.

Secondly, the poetry itself is engaging, even if you are unfamiliar with the Norse and Southern Germanic mythologies and histories underlying it, as I largely am. Its sharp immediacy draws you into the action (and emotion) of the moment, and its strife-ridden characters demand empathy even as they incite both frustration and at times, awe. In addition to Tolkien's apparent desire to create a unified version of the legends (which have varying and contradictory accounts in the manuscript record), one of the other motives behind his own verse is also to explore and imitate the poetic structures, particularly in meter and rhythm, of this branch of Norse poetry. And for this reason, the poetry itself is to me engaging, in that it taught me to read in a different way, be guided by a different style, see a story through a different textual lens, so to speak – it felt a little choppy at first, but after about the first twenty stanzas came to feel natural, and rather than having the style be a barrier to enjoyment, it came to be one of the contributors. One other thing I found interesting was the gesturing towards Christian hope which was Tolkien’s own addition, of course. Tying the whole tragedy together is this repeated identification of Sigurd as “Odin’s hope,” the one who “deathless stands, who death hath tasted and dies no more, the serpent-slayer, seed of Odin” (63). This is purely Tolkien's invention since it isn't in the sources. It doesn’t seem to interfere with the mythology and factors more into the frame (although it is repeated in the text), and is subtle, in much the same way as Tolkien’s own Middle Earth mythology gestures in places towards a hope for mankind, but never names the Christ, exploring instead the tragedy and beauty of a world populated by gods and powers both strong and terrible, and, in the end, simultaneously subject to futility and persistent in hope.

For the reader of Tolkien’s other works, it is fascinating to see the connections between the Sigurd and GudrĂșn legends, and his own creative writings and the mythology he developed, to see the accidental growth of a story like the Hobbit (which really does draw on this Norse world), and to see the themes that Tolkien was clearly interested and developed further in the Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings. Anyone who has read The Cihldren of Hurin or knows the tale of Turin will see definite threads tying Tolkien’s creativity with the Norse legends. Thus, this book fills out my understanding of the world of the Silmarillion, even as engages my interest in the writing process undergone in creating his mythology.

Finally, the cover is enticing (and for me, a good cover is, well, a good thing) with its wood-carvings. And each section of the text is preceding with an imprint from a series of wood-carvings detailing the Sigurd legend, from a twelfth century door from Hylestad, Norway.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book from cover to cover, including introductions, a lengthy commentary on the poems (sometimes needed to make sense of the plot!), the poetry itself, and a couple of appendices covering the origins of the legends historically and two supplementary poems written by Tolkien. Of course, I was predisposed to enjoy it.

Now that the book is done and back up on my shelf however, I must warn: it was sad.

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The Tension of Vision

Friday, May 21, 2010

Two quite different poems, yet both reminding me of the tension within our vision, of that deep conflict of the 'now and not yet.' The yearning for a heavenly perspective. The straining of one 'yet earth-bound mortal.'

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged Him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, "But Lord, this is a thorn, and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou has given me."
He said, "My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee."
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.
(Martha Snell Nicholson)


Do I watch the gulls blow,
the wind flinging go over and
under the remnants of air?
Do I callously know
the fierce thrill of Your singing
and yet choke on the chill and stare
at the smudges of concrete and smoke?
O soaring O flailing and flipping
the breeze, O silver in swinging
the currents and space - you poke
at my knees, at my sinews of stone,
at my turf-sunk jaw, my self-pitying
groan. O! bursting grey visions
O! torrents of dust, you scavengers
thirsting and twirling, pursue
the alluring frictions of joy.
Do I watch the gulls toss,
stretch back the glum clouds and
tease at the snow-starched sponges
of white? Do I sigh to my loss
and sneeze at the tickling, prickling,
piercing bright blow: O my sight cannot go,
cannot up that way wind,
when I seek what I seek,
what I seek I still find.
(Yours Truly)

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The Proliferation of Paradox

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

I'd like to spend a number of blog entries exploring what I've named the "proliferation of paradox," that is, the reality that paradox is an intimate part of our life in Christ.

Paradox as a concept has drawn and fascinated me ever since I was presented with John Donne's poetry. It's difficult for me not to do a double-take when I read lines like, "Death, thou shalt die" (Holy Sonnet X) and "Nor ever chaste except You ravish me" (HS XIV) and "Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down" (Hymn to God, my God, in my sickness).

Paradox was brought to my mind again today as I marked a number of student paper proposals, and I was flooded with a tide of arguments that were predicated on the idea that although a woman (in this case the Anglo-Saxon heroine, Judith) may side-step social gender roles when empowered by God, she really isn't exhibiting feminist resistance because she is actually still submitting to and being domineered by a male authority figure (this said figure being God). Again and again I read these outcries. Alas God, how you bind us women! These are the moments when it is very difficult being constrained by the roles of the institution and contract I have signed; O! how every ounce of me wants to burst into an explanation and hymn of the glories of God, and not simply write, "Consider how you might complicate this argument. Is it a simple dichotomy of either/or?"

To most of my students, there is no paradox present. Only religious patriarchal oppression. But as I was out walking today, I was overwhelmed by the preciousness of the paradox: indeed, Donne captures this particular one when he exclaims, "Take me to You, imprison me, for I/Except You enthrall me, never shall be free" (HS XIV). It is absolutely incredible that our freedom is inextricable from our captivity to the Lord. O how utter submission and abandon to the lordship of Jesus Christ is beyond comparison the most freeing and enlivening place to be!

As I meditated on this, I realized just how tightly paradox is woven into the Christian life. Why, I wondered?

As a cross-section in my learning this week, God has also been teaching me about the necessity of suffering for His name, and that this must be built upon a passion for His glory. I picked up The Pleasures of God and was confronted with the fact that the gospel is "the good news of the glory of the happy God" (Piper 25). I realized (O that I might REALize it more!) that my fear of suffering, my shame at not being bold in sharing my faith, my desire for comfort and my preoccupation with trying to control and plan out my life stems from my refusal to pursue and seek to enjoy what God enjoys: Himself. (It's an excellent book thus far, and I've heard nothing but good reviews - check it out if you're interested!). But how does this intersect with my discussion of paradox? Simply put: paradox is but a word that describes the reality that God is gloriously God, and we are not, and yet God wants to share Himself with us. Paradox must result when we, who are not God, encounter He who is God. And thus the Paradox is an expression of the deep, deep joy that is ours in God!

It is utterly beyond me how enduring suffering can be the path that God demands we follow in order to enter into His joy. At least, this is how I feel as I write. Prior to suffering, I am in trepidation of suffering; and potentially while I'm going through suffering, experiencing suffering, I will be in bewilderment and confusion. But as I've been listening to people share from their hearts about their suffering, I've seen that when they bear witness to God's grace, they have far more joy and confidence than I. I think about the apostle Paul - who was this man to be able to urge, exhort, command the Philippian Christians to "rejoice always!"? Only a man who had been stoned, beaten, attacked, slandered, and left for dead. Only a man who pleaded with God to take away a source of suffering in his life, to which God replied, "My grace is sufficient for You, for power is perfected in weakness." Talk about paradox.

And then we read: "Jesus...who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of God" (Heb.12:2b).

This paradox of suffering and joy is one that I cannot humanly understood. But everywhere that I see the presence of God, I see the reality of it. O how I want it! I really, desperately want it! I'm terrified of the suffering - and yet - O let this be true!! - I'm more terrified of missing out on the joy!

I close. The proliferation of paradox, as I have just defined it, is then a nuanced re-proclamation of the ultimate goal that guides my life in Christ. The refrain: the glory of God.

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