The Hobbit, or There and Back Again: A Comfortably Uncomfortable Tale
Preface
I consider myself lucky to say that I read The Hobbit, or There and Back Again, early in my life. I started it last summer, ending the school year at the onset of my C.S. Lewis obsession (which comes along cyclically every year), and had begun to read his lesser-known Space Trilogy, anticipating the beginning of summer as one that would be for an abundance of reading. And so when we arrived in Ukraine, I was surprised to realize how strong the pull of the countryside had on my literature intake. I was overwhelmed to read about something far different than C.S. Lewis’ solitary alien-like descriptions of a planet far away. To still read about an adventure, but one closer to the dirt and grime of a group traveling into lands permeated in the myths of fae and elves and dwarves.
To say that I was pleased would be a gross understatement. I became one with the story and one of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company. I was entrenched within the world and found myself listening (I had to do with an audiobook due to the amount of work I ended up having) to the story at all times of the day: on the metro, while working in the garden, at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and at waking and falling asleep. Since then, I have re-read it once and have begged my family to read it, going so far as sitting them down to listen to a translated audiobook.
My decision to begin this literary process by writing about one of Tolkien’s stories is because, indeed, he succeeded in not only writing a “really stupendously long narrative” but simultaneously managed to “hold the average reader right through.” I’ve done this not despite but rather thanks to the fact that the tale is brimming with life lessons in every corner, and upon later reads in my life, I’m convinced I will be reading a completely different story than the one I began when I was fifteen.
And so, to begin, I’ve decided to start at the beginning (surprising, I know). More specifically, I’ve decided to focus on Tolkien’s beginning.
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort”
(Chapter I - An Unexpected Journey).
Warning - spoilers are included.It is interesting that a story detailing a very long and dangerous adventure begins this way - just as it is interesting, yet not surprising, that the character of Bilbo Baggins gets thrust into an adventure. The concept of comfort is innate to this story, just as it is to the hobbits’ identity (as seen by the first paragraph’s immediate characterization of what a hobbit-hole “means”) and just as many of us can say it is to our own.
Although one can argue that the primary source of Bilbo’s discomfort is the lack of his homely possessions (his hobbit hole and everything in it), I would argue against the notion. Bilbo’s perception of comfort comes from his exactness - his exertion of control. He’s polite in speech, always striving to be punctual, and worries dearly when it comes to his living environment. I even remember physically laughing at the comment that “the hobbit was fond of visitors” at first read; how could he be if he’s so obsessed with his home’s order?
I would go further to say that neither “group” of main characters (that being, the dwarves and the hobbits) is fueled solely by a desire for material possessions. The dwarves don’t just want gold; they want their gold. Their mountain. Their King Under the Mountain. It’s not much of a question of simple comfort or «обстановка» as it is a restoration or regaining of a rightful comfort they once had.
And the majority of hobbits, as I’ve already pointed out with our hobbit, Mr. Baggins, desire order. They “have no use for adventures” because adventures aren’t grounds for order; adventures are, by nature, spontaneous, daring, and unusual. If the hobbits were a simple group that only desired material possessions, then the Tooks (and after the journey, Bilbo) would be considered respectable due to their immense wealth (they are, in fact, not). The very call to adventure that sets their stories into motion throws everything in the Shire slightly off balance. Just enough to see that the very order the hobbits of the Shire desire is a very easily disrupted fantasy. It makes them wonder how easily their own goodness can be whisked away from them; I suspect that’s nothing anyone voluntarily wants to think about.
Quite sillily, that’s why the Tooks as a family concept is so humorous in retrospect. The majority of the Tooks are so unusual because their comfort isn’t based on order; their family order (in comparison to the rest of the hobbit families) is frequently disrupted by the so-called “dreadful things [adventures].” They’re not one bit a good reflection of the people of the Shire. And yet they also run the civil government and are the wealthiest inhabitants of the town.
Indeed the very “Tookish side” that Tolkien uses so often in describing Bilbo’s fantastical courage can be seen as simply a letting go of control. An ability to say, “I don’t know how I can help, but I want to risk myself and my perfectionism for it,” no matter how spontaneous the decision to do so is.
At the story’s core, Bilbo learns the concept of being comfortable without all the conditions of his material home. Most importantly, he teaches himself that comfort can come from following others and letting go of the need to have everything “in place.” He learns that the highest security of mind and heart does not come from polished furniture or caverns of gold, but rather from the souls of a group of people aiming for goodness; whether they are in or out of good circumstances is a different matter.
The most telling of Bilbo’s development is the end of the story. Bilbo doesn’t stop loving or desiring the homely comforts of his abode. On the contrary, Bilbo is weary both physically (after partaking in a literal war on the frontlines) and emotionally (after the death of his friends) and desires quite nothing else but his home. Here we see the same attitude I believe Tolkien intends for the reader to acquire: “…and the sound of the kettle on his hearth was ever after more musical than it had been even in the quiet days before the Unexpected Party” (Chapter XIX - The Last Stage).
It is this revelation that comes to us while we read - or listen to - Tolkien’s tale. Comfort is good while it lasts, but at a certain point, we need a change in pace to reinvigorate the atmosphere around us. We need to be reminded of what is outside of our comfortable settings so that we can further be grateful in our suffering.
The concept of comfort is fundamental to Tolkien’s storytelling because it allows us to understand the uncomfortable parts of the story. The eagles’ security, Beorn’s solid safety, and Rivendell’s glorious goodness all function as points where we taste the sweetness of what the Company is striving to regain. Comfort is what grounds us to the uncomfortable. It is precisely what keeps us going through the suffering of the crew in anticipation of the adventure’s purpose (the regaining of the dwarves’ kingdom and nation and the slaughtering of Smaug the Terrible) in return for all the effort put into the journey.
Bilbo relearns what comfort can be, and this lens is what the reader acquires whilst reading. We slowly find ourselves at home both within the Shire, and in Mirkwood surrounded by the Company, and yet also with Bilbo during the Battle of the Five Armies.
The Hobbit became my comfortable bedside read in spite of because Bilbo’s understanding of comfort acquires a new dimension. It still remains to be his hobbit hole and his orderly lifestyle, but it gains a respect and desire for simple brotherly trust between friends and the knowledge of being united in achieving a good purpose.
The end of the story has Bilbo bidding farewell to the dwarves (who have won back their kingdom); this is where the change in his perception of comfort hit me quite solidly:
“‘If ever you are passing my way,’ said Bilbo, ‘don’t wait to knock! Tea is at four; but any of you are welcome at any time!’
Then he turned away”
(Chapter XVIII - The Return Journey).
Sources-
Tolkien, J. R. R. The Hobbit: Or, There and Back Again. Penguin Books, 1961.
-
Ezard, John, and J. R. R. Tolkien. “Release: Tolkien in Oxford.” BBC, 30 Mar. 1968.
