Time was I would read any amount of fantasy or science fiction, but frankly over the past ten years or so, my interest has waned in the written form of the genre, though I still like a good science fiction or fantasy movie even if there are very few of the latter.
Like many fans current and lapsed of the genre, I got going with Tolkein. I have long since lost count of the number of times I read The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (though neither, it has to be admitted, recently). I have a fair number of the books published post mortem, of which I confess I have only read The Silmarillion, which I tackled close on thirty years ago and frankly, it’s staying read (although I have revisited the bit at the end about the war of the ring a couple of times). I have unread copies of Unfinished Tales, The Book of Lost Tales (volumes 1 & 2) and The Lays of Beleriand. The latter is just two long narrative poems covering events already written in prose in the Silmarillion. I don’t actually know why I bought it, unless I was feeling suitably pseudy at the time –I can’t remember- since I always gloss over Tolkein’s poetry. It may be big, it may be clever, but it’s crushingly boring.
Anyway, thirty or so years is enough for me to remember that worthy as it may have been, The Silmarillion is not an easy read; too many genealogical lists of names that are both similar and unpronounceable, especially when it is important in the narrative to know precisely who begat whom. I recall finishing the book with a profound sense of relief, having doggedly refused to put it down unfinished. The remainder of my Tolkein collection is something that gets dipped into from time to time, but not read outright. After the Lays of Beleriand I decided not to spend any more cash on the remaining ‘History of Middle Earth’ series as the balance of written JRR to editorial C Tolkein slipped inexorably in favour of the latter as he raided the Great Man’stm waste paper bin for ever more obscure fragments.
I am at a loss, therefore, to explain why I have just ordered a copy of Children of Hurin from Amazon. Probably, I guess, because thirty years is long enough to remember the fact of things, but it is also long enough to gloss over the emotional drain that it entailed.
Plus there’s a gap on my bookshelf that will take just that volume.
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