Of classics
Is The Lord of the Rings a classic? Many heated discussions have taken place on social networks on this topic in recent years. Some say Tolkien is the equal to Dante, if not superior, when others say that only a fool would think such a thing. Some say that Tolkien is a decent writer, but LOTR is not a classic. Or, if a classic, that of an inferior range. And so on…
As often in this kind of debate, no one takes time to define the keywords, and the conversation goes nowhere. Let’s zoom out a bit, and ask first: what is a classic?
The question is old. It has been asked many times and discussed extensively. One may think that after all these years, we would have a clear answer, but the concept still seems elusive. Many definitions seem to argue, in the end, that a classic is a book that one likes more than all others. Which ones? Whichever the person holding the pen holds in high esteem. Enough to quash further conversation.
Italo Calvino offers no less than fourteen different propositions to explain what a classic is. He plays with the concept in his essay, Why Read Classics? and circles around it again and again. Proposition number one reads: “The classics are the books of which we usually hear people say: “I am rereading…” and never “I am reading…””. Proposition number six adds, “A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.” Proposition number twelve is even more interesting, “A classic is a book that comes before other classics; but anyone who has read the others first, and then reads this one, instantly recognizes its place in the family tree.”
Each proposition is like a stroke in an impressionist painting, complementing the other but never giving us the full effect.
The discussion is ancient and not limited to a Western perspective. The Essence of Literature and the Carving of Dragons, a classical Chinese treaty on literature, explains in chapter 3, that “classics” (jing 經) “[are] the books that concern themselves with the cosmic triad (sky, earth and man). They are considered to reveal the eternal dao”.
This paragraph, while transparent for someone versed in classical Chinese philosophy, is totally obscure if unfamiliar. Suffice to say that a classic is considered to reveal something about the way the world works (which is one way to explain the word dao). This, and only this, is the criterium.
This is something Milan Kundera would have agreed upon. In his essay The Art of the Novel, he argues that the ethics of the novelist is to unveil something new about the world. Any little corner of the world that was left in obscurity receives a light that the reader can now use to better understand his condition. “The sole raison d’être of a novel is to discover what only the novel can discover. A novel that does not discover a hitherto unknown segment of existence is immoral. Knowledge is the novel’s only morality,” he writes.
This is the definition that I find the most useful, both as a reader and as a writer. In both cases, our job is to map reality, one small bit at the time. To go into the great unknown, in these areas of the maps that say, “There be dragons,” and bravely bring back what we found. To say the truth always, in the simplest Aristotelian way, to say that which is, is, and that which is not, is not.
Let’s now go back to the question that interests us (is The Lord of the Rings a classic?) and try to apply the criteria we identified.
Is The Lord of the Rings a book of which people usually say, “I am rereading…”? For sure.
Is it a book that comes before other classics? Without a doubt. It even spawned a completely new genre of books.
The Lord of the Rings would probably fulfill all of Calvino fourteen propositions. But does it fulfill the Kunderan criterium? Does it tell us something new about the eternal dao?
This is where the conversation gets heated. Some say yes, some say no, some say maybe. Since the war started, and since I’ve started reading the story, my answer is a clear yes.
True, it talks about elves, dwarves and a grumpy wizard. It describes epic battles and long-range adventures, and it uses the language of fairy tales, a language that is commonly thought to be for children, an idea Tolkien considered idiotic: “[…]the common opinion seems to be that there is a natural connection between the minds of children and fairy-stories, of the same order as the connection between children’s bodies and milk. I think this is an error […]”.
But there is more to this epic story. One can only comprehend the depth of this work during very specific times, times that the West had the good fortune of barely knowing for two generations. For The Ring unveils a very specific corner of the world; a very dark one where hides war.
In times of peace, the Ring looks like a fantasy epic. It is often read as an allegory that represents the metaphysical battle between good and evil, played out in a world inspired by fairy tales and folk legends.
In times of war it becomes apparent that the book has another dimension. Every page rings true. It is drenched with the sweat, and the tears and the blood that Tolkien experienced firsthand, having lived through two world wars.
Better (or worse): The Lord of the Rings doesn’t describe any kind of war. It describes a very specific kind of war; one where the battle is not between two nations, or two civilizations, but one where the battle, at the core, is between good and evil. It describes in very precise details what such a war looks and feels like, how it’s played out, and how it is won, all in a very real and concrete way.
One can wonder where Tolkien got such powerful insights, and how he describes in such vivid ways the war we are currently fighting (which is its own topic). What is certain is that in such times, The Lord of the Rings becomes both a map and a compass. “There are considered to reveal the eternal dao”, writes the Carving of Dragons. The Ring is a jing; the ring is a classic.