TOM BOMBADIL: TOLKIEN AND CONSERVATIVE ENVIRONMENTALISM
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Tom Bombadil: Tolkien and Conservative Environmentalism By Arthur O’Sullivan
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ejoice! For spring is supposedly upon us, dear reader! In principle, the weather should be warming and the flowers should be blooming. After a harsh winter, our climate should be fairer. But my friend, we’re at Binghamton University (a premier public ivy, you know). Here a warm, sunny day is as rare as a bad article in Binghamton Review. Speaking of which, I had intended to cover Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation to the Supreme Court, before realizing that I could not get past a paragraph of thought. All I saw was the highest chamber of Congress engaging in meretricious politicking before the cameras (unheard of, I know). Republicans posed unfair and irrelevant questions and accusations (see Graham’s attempt to replicate his iconic Kavanaugh speech or Greene’s “pro-pedophile” label). Democrats countered with absurd softballs and apologetics. Jackson assiduously avoided answering all of them. Three Republicans decided to support her confirmation, furthering the forgone conclusion of the proceedings. The decision stoked a familiar and tiresome outrage among the “new right,” further driving a wedge within the GOP. The phrase plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose comes to mind: a liberal justice will join an irrevocably politicized Supreme Court, the 6-3 (ostensibly) conservative majority will remain intact, Republicans will still be split along MAGA lines, and few voters will change their habits over this needless spectacle. This story is almost as dreary as today’s weather. For that reason, I have decided to abandon it in favor of something cozier. The title of this article says it all. I’m not typically a fan of most fantasy work (though I do have a soft spot for The Elder Scrolls and the Eragon books from my childhood). It’s all too predictable to me: magic is written without mystery, the plot and story-structure tend to feel nihilistic
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and self-gratifying, and I find the tired formula of elves, dwarves, goblins, and wizards to be schlocky and derivative. The idea that “fantasy” itself could be derivative shows just how oxymoronic the genre has become. One could ask, however, of what “fantasy” is derived. The answer, of course, is C.S. Lewis J.R.R. Tolkien. Unlike other kids my age, I didn’t watch the Lord of the Rings movies until I was a teenager in about ninth grade, after I had read the books, though I did read The Hobbit as a kid. I also have not, nor will I ever, read The Silmarillion—not out of prejudice against reading it, but out of fear of those who have. Therefore I am not blinded by particular nostalgia, the same way I might be for the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson series, when I read or discuss Tolkien’s work. In contrast to other fantasy work, Tolkien’s writing fails to suffer from the issues I describe: elves, wizards and their magic truly feel ancient and mysterious, sentiments of hope and mercy extend beyond platitudinous lip-service, and Middle-Earth is as vivid and rich with history and culture as befits the expansive story that Tolkien tells. Reading Tolkien illustrates the potential of fantasy, derived from a deep understanding of language, cultural mythology, and the human condition. Despite so much of the genre being derivative of his work, Tolkien is still utterly unique in literature. The most unique and puzzling part of his world, and the telos of this unnecessarily-long preamble, is a small but significant character near the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring, Tom Bombadil. Those who have only seen the movies (and who are still reading this pretentious, convoluted article) would be justified in saying, “Who? What’s going on? Arthur, why are you forcing me to read this?” To which I would laugh with the smug superiority of one who has read the books and can, as the movie is playing, say “AKSHSUALLY, in the book it happens differently.” I would then didactically describe the
plot in excruciating detail, before pontificating on Tom Bombadil’s manifold symbolic meanings. But I would never do that to you, dear reader, now would I? So anyways, a little less than halfway through Book I of The Fellowship of the Ring, our intrepid hobbits, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, have set out on a dangerous mission to the elf safehouse of Rivendell. At their then-lowest point, they find themselves trudging through the rough wilderness far from any comfort of home, being pursued by horse-riding agents of the villainous Sauron. The narrative stakes couldn’t be higher, and then, out of nowhere, they find themselves being eaten by a carnivorous willow tree. In a desperate attempt to save his friends, Frodo accosts a lone traveler on the road, begging for his help. “Who is this guy?” you may ask. It is none other than Tom Bombadil, singing his signature song, “Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dol dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!” In an instant, Tom saves the hobbits from the “Old Willow Man” and,
Vol. XXXIV, Issue XI
