The Import of Triviality

Lately I've been reading the Lord of the Rings. A plethora of other more "important" books have I, but I nevertheless find myself more strongly drawn to this relatively trivial trilogy. Why? Would not one expect a more pragmatic, immediately applicable book to hold greater appeal? What does it matter whether this Frodo bloke tosses some gaudy piece of jewelery into the Cracks of Doom?

I submit novels prey upon humanity's frailties and stubborn stupidities. This is not to say such books are bad-- only that they are tailored to the right species.

Whilst it may be true that valuable life lessons may be extricated from the texts of such a novel given some thoughtful searching and pondering, a more straightforward "Self-Help" book would more swiftly deliver such wisdom. A novel, however, imparts mere situations and offers the reader the freedom to draw their own conclusions therefrom rather than cramming some ham-fisted admonitions down the reader's throat which they may more readily reject and more likely resent; I hesitate to pick up esteemed "Self-Help" books, for such books I feel insult my intelligence and assail my foolish pride. By ingesting the council therein I indirectly admit I fall short of perfect-- an admission I resent, proud creature that I am. In approaching such books as "What to Say When You Talk to Yourself" or "How to Win Friends and Influence People", I so do under the (subconscious, of course) assumption that I am a weak and stupid creature for having to resort to such a sweetly parental book to save me. With my fragile self-esteem thus wounded my brain shuts itself off to correspond with this internal image I create of myself of what I must be to be reading such a book-- and in so stupefying myself I expect to be spoon-fed (for of course the book is designed for the consumption of the idiot and the fool), and thereby decrease my receptivity to the precepts of the book in question, my brain not expecting to have to actually think too deeply about what it's reading--"Just fix me, already!" Thus, ironically, I am likely to learn more from a subtler book such a "The Lord of the Rings", for my brain remains active whilst reading it; I do not feel it insults my intelligence, so my intelligence I retain whilst reading it, and consequently tend to learn (or at least enjoy) more. This being the case I am hesitant to dabble in "Self-Help" books should I have a great novel before me.

This only explains, you may note, the allure of great novels over books which bear the "Self-Help" classification--"what of other non-fiction books?", you may wonder. What of that literature which pontificate at great length about music, food, golf, business, or celebrities? Close as such matters may be to my heart, aught I not to relish the useful information such books impart, especially given how they keep the spotlight of my own attention firmly secured upon their own detached subjects, safely away from my personal imperfections? With exception of the last of those example subjects (the supreme silliness of which I would best leave for another blog, but which silliness exonerates it in this instance from my scrutiny), I would say that no--er ,well technically yes, I should enjoy such books, but the question here is whether it is likely I will, given what has above been said. But I say no--next to a relatively useless novel, a factual book stands little chance of being my priority, and for similar reasons; such informative books are (to state the obvious) saliently useful, like Self-Help books. My subconscious mind understands this, and therefore feels constrained by my obligation to strive to be a better person to to read such a book-- and so in reading, say, "In Defense of Food", it is as though I am only catching up on something I should have already been doing anyway, as though it were my responsibility ever since I became aware of the book and which responsibility I've been childishly sidling away from since recognition of the book, thus planting the seeds of guilt. That being so, if I should indeed get around to reading the book in question, it would be with heavy heart and out of mere obligation, rather than for the joy of reading and learning, that joy being squashed alongside my perceived proactivity, which virtue imparts a joy of its own.

Pleasure in learning of relatively peripheral matters thus jaded, I turn to "The Lord of the Rings." Yes, as far as style is concerned, certainly it falls flat and appears to be dry and lackluster when compared to "In Defense of Food", so that is obviously not its appeal as might be the case for such books as "Twilight." Nevertheless, I feel no pressure from myself or anyone else to read "The Lord of the Rings", or even "Twilight" for that matter ; why bother, for of what practical use is it? And so I am liberated by its triviality, free to wallow in it, free of any pretense or pressure, and free to gleefully delve into its dazzling complexity and find therein innumerable insights into the way life works which I would fail to find in a more important, pragmatic, business-like piece of literature. Free also am I also to love the "Lord of the Rings" for these reasons, which effect is self perpetuating; who doesn't love to love?

Furthermore, as many fans of the fantasy genre would also attest, the great asset of that genre is the opportunity to dive into a great book such as the "Lord of the Rings" so as to provide the reader with an escape-rout from their own dull and lifeless reality to find instead an alien universe rich with high adventure, immortal love, vivid colour and a multitude of details to keep them distracted from the bills to pay and relationships to mend; why bother when one has Middle Earth in which to vicariously dwell? It invites creativity, stokes the idealist in each of us, and, frankly, is much more fun.

So does it matter whether that Frodo bloke destroys the Ring? Perhaps not, and that's what really matters.

Author's Note: Afore you come at me with your torches and pitchforks, allow me to quickly append that whilst I do find "The Lord of the Rings" to be laden with profound personal meaning, I do not advocate slipping off into an alternate universe and there idling away the rest of your pathetic days as one might drift off into a perpetual opium dream; I do not intend to suggest you set up "The Lord of the Rings" as the centerpiece of your life or revel in it as a drug. That would be stupid. Rather, I aspire only to explain in part my love for books such as that above mentioned. If you wish to glean greater meaning from this blog than that, then...well, if thou canst relate to any of the above, methinks this a great litmus test for whether you need to pull yourself together and get a life--and if not, perhaps you can propose how one goes about orienting one's life in accordance with that which actually matters. I gather I've danced around a grander issue at hand over the course of this compensation, but I'd rather sleep than pin it down, much less tackle it! Is not that ironic, given that I suspect the "grander issue" is the nature of apathy/mediocrity? That matter I would rather leave for another time. Perhaps, as with a novel, you'd best work out your own solutions to the issues at hand rather than demanding I fork them over you; you'll appreciate what you find within yourself more than what I have to say.