‘The Lord of the Rings’ is something I am revising now (for a proper exam). It’s a humiliating experience. When everyone else is having fun (revision week 1 of 2 – why would you?) I go into the coffee shops with my ridiculous little blockbuster novels. Smaller than proper scholarly editions. Horrid little sugary pages…. and I scribble on it with my snickery little pencils. Often incoherently (to all but me muahaha).
The reason: all the way up until now I have been betraying my soul in this class. And now I need to go on a journey of self-discovery. What is this novel, if not what we have been told in lectures? I must argue an ever-so-controversial point ever-so-well. I have to know everything. One slip, and I’m dead. Much like, well, one false slip of the finger, and the Ring is on, and all our plans are laid bare to the Enemy, slaughtered, and me along with them! Which thoughts do not get me to focus much better.
But that is why I am not writing, sleeping, eating, breathing, instead mostly drinking (coffee). Work, work, the self-destructive life of a too-caring English student… studying ‘Paradise Lost’ was like writing in blood, and now I trek the oh-so-heavily-corpse-laden-and-stinking hills of Mordor in search of the glimmering light of Hope in a delusive but epic metatextual blur. With appropriate soundtrack.
If; when; hoping against hope; I return… I shall write again.