The Hobbit

This review discusses the ending.

I often say The Hobbit is a story set in Middle-earth, and all Tolkien’s subsequent works are in part him showing off the world he’s made: its history, its languages, its people, and its landscapes. That opinion is rooted in part of why I think it’s probably my favourite of his books: it’s just a story, and by not trying to be anything else it tells the story better. Tolkien’s great friend C.S. Lewis once remarked on going for a walk with him that “he doesn’t seem able to talk and walk at the same time; he dawdles and then stops completely when he has something interesting to say” – much as I love The Lord of the Rings, that description of his walking is equally apt for describing its pacing. The Hobbit doesn’t have that problem.

Bilbo makes the whole thing work. His reluctance is funny, but extremely relatable – he starts out with a comfortable home and life, which gets thrown into chaos by some surprising visitors, and then he finds himself out in the world being proven right about how unpleasant and uncomfortable it would be. Even as he grows his courage and becomes the burglar the dwarves sought, he doesn’t entirely lose his original self or his appreciation for dry clothes and a good meal.

His usefulness also takes forms I enjoy watching. The riddles with Gollum make quick thinking a matter of survival. In Mirkwood, he has to take responsibility for companions who once doubted the point of bringing him. The barrel escape is particularly satisfying because the plan involves practical difficulties as well as a clever idea. He is learning to manage, and the dwarves are learning to rely on him.

The episodes give the book a good rhythm. A new place brings a new problem, and the solution usually gets the company far enough to encounter the next one. There is variety in what Bilbo has to do, so the journey seldom feels like the same obstacle in different scenery. Tolkien makes room for songs, jokes, and a meal when one is available, but these feel like moments to breathe and opportunities to get to know the characters better at natural pauses in the journey rather than distractions. I don’t find myself wishing he would hurry up.

There’s also a mixture here that I miss in modern fantasy. The trolls argue about cooking their supper, the elves sing silly songs, and riddles decide whether Bilbo gets eaten, yet there is room in the same story for the sadness of a lost home and the greed that poisons its recovery. It belongs to a style of storytelling that has largely passed out of use, with one foot still in the fairy tale and the other in a genre whose familiar shape was only beginning to emerge. I enjoy that freedom to be funny, frightening, and melancholy without much ceremony about moving between them. Tolkien was helping to establish what a modern fantasy adventure could be, and hadn’t yet left everyone else a model to follow.

There is history here too, but only enough of it to make the places feel older than the travellers passing through. The Hobbit is excellent at telling me what I need to know but leaving me curious about things in the world beyond its immediate story. I get to enjoy the depth while still focusing on how Thorin and Company are going to get out of their current predicament. As I said at the top, that balance is a large part of why I find this such an agreeable way into Tolkien’s world, and arguably its best story.

Smaug rewards the journey by being just as interesting as the road leading to him. A straightforward fight would be a bit mundane compared to what we actually get. Yes, talking to him is dangerous, but his vanity makes it a possibility and one that proves entertaining. Bilbo has to keep his nerve, flatter him, and avoid giving too much away. I want the conversation to continue, even though Bilbo would be wise to leave it as soon as possible.

The ending is the biggest weak spot. After following Bilbo all the way to the mountain, I find the transfer of the dragon-slaying to Bard less satisfying than the encounter that precedes it. Bilbo’s discovery of Smaug’s weak spot matters, but the decisive confrontation belongs to someone I have spent much less time with. Then the Battle of Five Armies leaves Bilbo unconscious for the most exciting part of the action. It almost feels like a cheap cop-out to avoid writing the dramatic battle. It’s not – Tolkien made quite plain his ability to write such things, and it would probably have hurt the excellent pacing – but I still feel a bit robbed.

I don’t need Bilbo to turn into a great warrior. His attempt to avert a fight by handing over the Arkenstone is a much more interesting test of his courage – he has to risk the anger of his friends because he thinks they’re wrong. The quarrel over the treasure also gives the adventure a harder question than how to retrieve it: what is worth doing to keep it? There’s good material in that final stretch, but the moral argument is far more satisfying than the action.

The slightly awkward climax remains unsatisfying despite the in-universe explanation that we’re reading Bilbo’s memoirs; but this remains the book that introduced the world to Tolkien’s Middle-earth, hobbits, elves, orcs, and dwarves – the last three becoming the definitive forms for modern fantasy literature ever since. Bilbo returns home changed, yes, but not entirely – he’s learned to love the world outside Bag End, but hasn’t lost his love for the comfort of his hobbit-hole.

Four stars, +4 for entertainment. To understand post-Tolkien fantasy, The Hobbit is a must-read – just as much as, if not more than, The Lord of the Rings. And it’s a great story.