LOTR moment
Thursday, September 14th, 2006 11:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
While I'm doing relatively mindless tasks at work, I often listen to recorded books on my headphones. Today, while I was enjoying the uncut edition of Stephen King's The Stand, I came across this passage:
There was a grandfather clock standing in the far corner of the parlor. Frannie Goldsmith had been listening to its measured ticks and tocks all of her life. It summed up the room, which she had never liked and, on days like today, actively hated. Her favorite room in the place was her father’s workshop. It was in the shed that connected house and barn. You got there through a small door which was barely five feet high, and nearly hidden behind the old kitchen woodstove.
The door was good to begin with. Small and deliciously hidden, it was like the doors you encountered in fairy tales and childhood fantasies. When she grew older and taller, she had to duck through it just as her father did. (Her mother never went out into the workshop unless she absolutely had to.) It was an Alice In Wonderland door, and for a long time her pretend game, secret even from her father, was that one day when she opened it, she would not find Peter Goldsmith’s workshop at all. Instead she would find an underground passageway leading somehow from Wonderland to Hobbiton, a low but somehow cozy tunnel with rounded earth and sides, and an earthen ceiling interlaced with sturdy roots that would give your head a good bump if you knocked it against any of them. A tunnel that smelled not of damp and wet soil and nasty bugs and worms, but one which smelled of cinnamon and baking apple pies. One which ended somewhere up ahead in the pantry of Bag End, where Mr. Bilbo Baggins was celebrating his eleventy-first birthday party.
Well, that cozy tunnel never turned out to be there. But to the Frannie Goldsmith who had grown up in this house, the workshop (sometimes called “the toolshop” by her father, and “that dirty place where your dad goes to drink beer” by her mother) had been enough.
Does the fact that hearing that made me fight back tears make me just a soft-hearted ol' loony?
There was a grandfather clock standing in the far corner of the parlor. Frannie Goldsmith had been listening to its measured ticks and tocks all of her life. It summed up the room, which she had never liked and, on days like today, actively hated. Her favorite room in the place was her father’s workshop. It was in the shed that connected house and barn. You got there through a small door which was barely five feet high, and nearly hidden behind the old kitchen woodstove.
The door was good to begin with. Small and deliciously hidden, it was like the doors you encountered in fairy tales and childhood fantasies. When she grew older and taller, she had to duck through it just as her father did. (Her mother never went out into the workshop unless she absolutely had to.) It was an Alice In Wonderland door, and for a long time her pretend game, secret even from her father, was that one day when she opened it, she would not find Peter Goldsmith’s workshop at all. Instead she would find an underground passageway leading somehow from Wonderland to Hobbiton, a low but somehow cozy tunnel with rounded earth and sides, and an earthen ceiling interlaced with sturdy roots that would give your head a good bump if you knocked it against any of them. A tunnel that smelled not of damp and wet soil and nasty bugs and worms, but one which smelled of cinnamon and baking apple pies. One which ended somewhere up ahead in the pantry of Bag End, where Mr. Bilbo Baggins was celebrating his eleventy-first birthday party.
Well, that cozy tunnel never turned out to be there. But to the Frannie Goldsmith who had grown up in this house, the workshop (sometimes called “the toolshop” by her father, and “that dirty place where your dad goes to drink beer” by her mother) had been enough.
Does the fact that hearing that made me fight back tears make me just a soft-hearted ol' loony?
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 06:55 pm (UTC)Catherine
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:21 pm (UTC)King is a BIG Ringer, and references to LOTR pop up in many of his books. He has said that the landscape and feel of the Dark Tower series, and the monster in spider form from It were inspired by LOTR. This is one of the reasons that I've always loved his work (among many other reasons).
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:42 pm (UTC)Catherine
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 08:21 pm (UTC)I also tend to view writers who are slow as being a bit more careful with their work than are those who put out several tomes a year. That, too, could be unfair, given that I'm viewing them through my own lens of slow writing. (I do know of some fan-fiction authors who are both fast and brilliant, after all.) Tolkien was nothing if not slow and careful!
Catherine
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 09:38 pm (UTC)And that just fucking kills me. *grrr*
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 08:24 pm (UTC)Sorry to jump in, Serai. It's just such a wonderful book.
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 09:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:22 pm (UTC)I've always loved King. Many moments in his books make me want to cry, and surprising ones, too. The ending of Cujo can still put me in a sobbing fit.
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:03 pm (UTC)*snuggles MM, Frannie and Stephen King*
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:42 pm (UTC)In his use of the everyday, he also reminds me a little of Shirley Jackson, although her talent lay more in scaring you with things that really aren't scary, and that wouldn't be except for some undefinable undercurrent to the way she uses words. King is, of course, far more overt in his terror, but it seems he has learned both from Jackson and from the Professor that it's the details, the sense of the real, that makes fantasy so effective. Writers who ignore those details, or who try to make their worlds too high-flown or strange in every way, that fail miserably to enchant us.
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:32 pm (UTC)It was only after the LOTR movies, when I read the books, that I realized how many LOTR references he's put in his books over the years.
The passage you cited is gorgeous, and I would point to it whenever anyone tells me that King is a "hack." So there, doubters! ;-)
no subject
Date: Thursday, September 14th, 2006 10:39 pm (UTC)And yeah, he's a Ringer. He really loves LOTR, and I'm surprised that he's never yet written anything about the films, not even in his Entertainment Weekly columns. I'd sure love to know what he thinks of them.
no subject
Date: Friday, September 15th, 2006 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, September 15th, 2006 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Saturday, September 16th, 2006 11:54 pm (UTC)Ohh, I loved that movie, seriously. I was so obsessed with it at one point. So many unintentionally hilarious quotes.
no subject
Date: Friday, September 15th, 2006 06:04 am (UTC)This made me teary too. It is the exact description of one of my past dream.
I didn't read the Stand; I had to fill this gap and find that book in the shop. Thank you.