The Master of Fantasy: J.R.R. Tolkien

I would hazard a guess that the word "fairy" will make most people think of something rather like the image at right: a magical, sylvan creature in miniature form, usually featuring dragonfly wings, and even accompanied by little insect friends. Or perhaps the most common association with "fairies" is with nursery rhymes, the "fairy tales" of our childhood.

Somthing less likely to come to mind, I believe, is the epic, "high fantasy" of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. That sort of fantasy is typically associated with much more "serious," exciting things than little woodland creatures; it brings to mind dragons and trolls and heroes and battles. Yet, Tolkien himself insisted that The Lord of the Rings was a fairy story. Such an assertion makes no sense if fairies are conceived of as woodsy little sprites: in order to make this make sense, we must shift away from the modern stereotypes, and investigate Tolkien's own definitions of fairies, and fairy-stories.

To begin with, he writes, in a rather important essay entitled "On Fairy-Stories" (see attached pdf), that the word "fairy" is "a noun more or less equivalent to elf" (page 3), and for the remainder of this essay he uses these two words interchangeably. What this means is that it would be entirely in keeping with Tolkien's own theories to take every instance of the word "elf" out of The Lord of the Rings and replace it with the word "fairy." Elrond is a fairy; Galadriel is a fairy; Legolas is a fairy. This does not mean that we are to picture these noble, powerful characters as little sprites with wings; the The Lord of the Rings movies do a pretty good job of illustrating that these figures are anything but little, anything but cute, anything but winged. Tolkien's elves are not meant to be more like contemporary fairies: I would go so far as to say that contemporary fairies should perhaps be a little more like Tolkien's elves.

What is it that defines Tolkiens elves or fairies? He rejects the idea that it is smallness of size (see page 3), and quibbles with the Oxford English Dictionrary's definition of them as "supernatural beings," saying that "it is man who is, in contrast to fairies, supernatural . . . whereas they are natural, far more natural than he. Such is their doom" (page 2). This is, admittedly, a confusing idea. What is it to be "more natural" than us human beings? Perhaps Tolkien is suggesting that fairies, in his view, are creatures far more attuned to the original, or natural, state of the world than we are. But he does not pin this idea down too far; I think that doing so would be somewhat antithetical to the nature of fairies.

Tolkien devotes more of his essay to talking about a place known as Faërie, the so-called "Perilous Realm," than he does to talking about fairies themselves. But he remains unwilling to be too specific, to pin anything down too tight. For he explains,

The best definition of this realm that he gives is,

In other words, Faërie, and so fairies themselves, are defined by a magic that is indescribable, though not imperceptible; they are characterized by a naturalness that lies outside human experience, by a magic that we can never put our finger on, by their presence in a realm filled with "beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords."

There is little more that I can say here. If you want to know more, please do read Tolkien's essay; it is fascinating. Or, better yet, read The Lord of the Rings. The magic that Tolkien describes in "On Fairy Stories" appears in his fictional writing in a full-bodied way; I think his fiction represents his best effort to capture that beautiful, elusive, perilous thing, the spirit or true nature of Faërie. And I believe that it is the presence of that spirit which gives life and power to his works.

But if you do not have the time or the energy to read either essay or book, at least look closely at the image at left. It is a painting by Alan Lee, a rather well-known illustrator of Tolkien's works. The woman in the picture is a character from Tolkien's story The Silmarillion, called Luthien; she is an elf, or fairy. Like Arwen Undomiel in The Lord of the Rings, she has fallen in love with a mortal, and so has doomed herself to mortality. This is the reason for her sadness. But pay attention to her quality: how would you describe it? I believe that Lee has done a good job of capturing a fragment of the spirit of Faërie in this painting, and the result is something elusive, and strangely beautfiul, something suggestive of "magic of a peculiar mood and power." Lee's success in capturing this quality brings me to the final point I want to make: Tolkien was not the only human being who ever lived who was capable of perceiving the power and mystery of Faërie. Contemporary artists of any discipline are able to do the same, if they are willing to look closely enough.