JRR Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings

I continue to read The Letters of JRR Tolkien, edited by his biographer, Humphrey Carpenter. It is absolutely incredible: it is obvious he was a genius; the question is whether his obsession with Middle-Earth was certifiable/diagnosable. The fact that he could function in society at a very high level, of course, means that he was neither certifiably or diagnosable but he was clearly as close to living in another world -- the world he had created in the Middle-Earth -- one wonders how close he came to crossing over into insanity.

In medical school, my closest friend who became a world-renown researcher in pediatric renal disease (at one time I thought he might be considered for a Nobel Prize in Medicine) talked to me about specializing in psychiatry. At that time I could not understand his passion for psychiatry (I, of course, do now) but he explained to me that he found it fascinating how all of us are literally on the edge of sanity/insanity.

I think of that the more I read the letters of Tolkien. I am about halfway through the book -- the letters are from the mid-50's. The last letter of the book is dated in 1973 or later; it will be interesting to see how his thinking evolves, but right now, he seems to be living in Middle Earth.

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It's a long story, but some time ago I was in my W. H. Auden phase. I'm not sure how I got to WH Auden; I assume I was led to WH Auden while in my Shakespeare phase [My Shakespeare phase began with Hamlet; became most interesting with the discovery of Brenda James.] But WH Auden is another writer who really intrigues me. I can't articulate why, but suffice it to say, WH Auden is in a class by himself, and I enjoy coming across Auden in places and times completely unexpected. So I was quite surprised to see the correspondence between JRR and WH Auden in 1955, just about the time JRR published the first volume of The Lord of the Rings. Auden had reviewed the book for the New York Times Book Review and Encounter, and was now asking Tolkien some questions about the book. Tolkien's reply was never found; Auden had a habit of throwing letters away after reading them. A pack rat, not. Apparently, this is another letter from Tolkien to Auden.]

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In the letter to Auden I referenced above, Tolkien reminisces about his early life in "West-Midland," a region of England. As he describes it, I am taken back to Yorkshire. Unfortunately with time, my memories of Yorkshire drift farther away; they are not as vivid and certainly not as emotion-laden until I get to thinking about them again. The "hitchhiking" as it were, each night after work.  The rocks at Brimham. The long, long walks every Saturday (until I met another walker) -- walks so long, taken to drive suicidially-depressive thoughts out of my mind. I remember carrying a portable CD player with me and playing Hank Williams, Sr, over and over, a man whose songs suggested a deeply depressed individual. He, too, died in a most inglorious (?) way. Most sad. Wow, do I ever get off track. I used to think about Yorkshire all the time; it generally led to a real sadness (sadness being significantly different than depression). I no longer let myself go down that road, and I won't tonight. It it what it is, or rather, it was what it was, and now it's gone. Never to return.

Hmmm. Sadness vs depression. I don't know how professionals would differentiate the two. For me, depression is an emotional state that lasts for quite some time, often no overt signs except to someone perhaps trained in observing signs of depression. Sadness, on the other hand, is shorter in duration, measured in hours, maybe days (at which point I start to think of "grief"), and is pretty much obvious to others. They say the Eskimos have 100 words for snow. The other day, I happened to come across multiple words for different kinds of frost. And now, multiple words for depression, sadness, grief. Interesting.

Wow, from JRR Tolkien to sadness.