⚠️ This section is currently under heavy construction. Expect significant updates.
Tolkien roundly rejected the idea that his work was allegorical, which is why I choose the word ‘elements’ quite deliberately when referring to symbolism. If symbols can be found in his work, they likely exist incidentally and individually, such that their (many possible) interpretations add richness and depth to the story, rather than reveal a singular underlying meaning.
In 1951, Tolkien wrote the following to his publisher:
But an equally basic passion of mine ab initio *was for myth (not allegory!) and for fairy-story, and above all for heroic legend on the brink of fairy-tale and history, of which there is far too little in the world (accessible to me) for my appetite. I was an undergraduate before thought and experience revealed to me that these were not divergent interests—opposite poles of science and romance—but integrally related. I am not ‘learned’ in the matters of myth and fairy story, however, for in such things (as far as known to me) I have always been seeking material, things of a certain tone and air, and not simple knowledge. Also — and here I hope I shall not sound absurd — I was from early days grieved by the poverty of my own beloved country: it had no stories of its own (bound up with its tongue and soil), not of the quality that I sought, and found (as an ingredient) in legends of other lands. There was Greek, and Celtic, and Romance, Germanic, Scandinavian, and Finnish (which greatly affected me); both nothing English, save impoverished chap-book stuff. Of course there was and is all the Arthurian world, but powerful as it is, it is imperfectly naturalized, associated with the soil of Britain but not with English; and does not replace what I felt to be missing. For one thing, its ‘faerie’ is too lavish, and fantastical, incoherent and repetitive. For another and more important thing: it is involved in, and explicitly contains the Christian religion.
For reasons which I will not elaborate, that seems to me fatal. Myth and fairy-story must, as all art, reflect and contain in solution elements of moral and religious truth (or error), but not explicit, not in the known form of the primary ‘real’ world.*
He emphasizes his love for myth and specifically not allegory. Allegory features parallel, hidden stories and predetermined symbols and meanings within a story. Myth, on the other hand, wields archetypes which implicitly evoke universal truths that emerge organically through ages of shared history (what Jung might call the collective unconscious). Myth criticism theorist José Manuel Losada defines myth as "a functional, symbolic and thematic narrative of one or several extraordinary events with a transcendent, sacred and supernatural referent; that lacks, in principle, historical testimony; and that refers to an individual or collective, but always absolute, cosmogony or eschatology.” Losada echoes the gist of Tolkien’s stance, saying to understand myth one must examine “myth from inside,” i.e. only “as a myth.”
Tolkien notes that as an art, myth must “contain in solution elements of moral and religious truth (or error),” so he is not against such thematic elements per se: only that they not be explicit, as intentionally defined in allegory. In this one paragraph, he refers to seeking not knowledge, but “a certain tone and air,” stories “bound up with … tongue and soil” of a “quality… in legends of other lands.” Seeking allegorical meaning in a story by definition takes one out of the story itself; rather than intuitively immersing oneself in another world, one self-consciously intellectualizes the work, distancing the reader from direct experience. If instead, one reads the story as a story—the myth as a myth—one is open to experiential realizations, not simply intellectual ones. As C.S. Lewis put it:
To be stories at all they must be stories of events; but it must be understood that this series—the plot as we call it—is only really a net whereby to catch something else. The real theme may be, and perhaps actually is, something that has no sequence in it, something other than a process and much more like a state or quality.
Lewis called this the ‘kappa element’ of storytelling, the indescribable atmospheric experience of a story. Lewis’s kappa might also be called qualia - the quality of direct experience that is so subjective as to be indescribable, referring to direct perceptual experience itself, without interpretation. A common example of this is the challenge to describe the experience of redness when viewing the color red. Another is how certain perceptual experiences like pain and taste, probably differ from person to person in ways we can never truly know or explain. For example, you may notice an internal visceral shift between imagining fear of heights and fear of spiders. The quality of the experience is palpably different, yet impossible to convey and even more difficult to know how your experience compares to others.
Story evokes unique perceptual experiences within each of us as we imagine and viscerally respond to the words on the page. The more present and immersed we are in the story, the closer we are to pure experience, and the more open we are to complex, nuanced realizations that may otherwise be impossible to convey given the limitations of language. The more we actively search for an allegorical meaning as we read, the more we distance ourselves from direct experience, allowing logic and language to limit what we glean from the work. This is where the atmospheric quality, kappa, or qualia of story works magic: it draws us into different worlds, coaxes us away from our rational minds into willing suspension of disbelief, and enables imaginal states of mind where even ineffable ideas flow freely.
In his 1951 letter to his publisher, Tolkien writes:
I dislike Allegory — the conscious and intentional allegory — yet any attempt to explain the purport of myth or fairytale must use allegorical language.
In the introduction to the Fellowship of the Ring, Tolkien writes:
But I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse ‘applicability’ with ‘allegory’; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.
To me, ‘varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers’ and ‘freedom of the reader’ can be seen as this immersive, open state of mind only possible through direct experience. It brings to mind how reading the same book at different times of life can evoke such wildly varied epiphanies, all because the ‘thought and experience’ of the reader has shifted and the story itself—its qualia—allows for such shifts in experience of the very same words on the page. In contrast, allegory that rigidly adheres to ‘purposed’ interpretations imposed by the author might stifle that freedom of perception within the reader.
Anyone reading Tolkien might recognize elements of other mythologies, but no overt retellings or complete parallels. Elements of myth, symbol, and archetype ( ‘allegorical language’ ) can convey worlds in and of themselves, evoking atmosphere, themes, and associations even without explicit description. Indeed, he mentions having found the quality he sought “(as an ingredient) in legends of other lands.” When incorporated as harmonious constituents, rather than as determined representations, such elements can simultaneously achieve the desired imaginal state and allow for non-deterministic qualia.
In his 1951 letter to Milton Waldman, describing the cosmogony of The Silmarillion, Tolkien writes:
These tales are ‘new’, they are not directly derived from other myths and legends, but they must inevitably contain a large measure of ancient wide-spread motives or elements. After all, I believe that legends and myths are largely made of ‘truth’, and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode; and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear.
When a reader becomes immersed in story, the diminished awareness of self gives way to experiencing the dynamic images of story on a symbolic level, which allows for the transmission of depth and nuance that far surpasses the limitations of thought and language. The symbolic imagery of myth connects the reader with the ‘truth… that can only be received in this mode.’
Rings of Power evokes the qualia of the source material by similarly incorporating elements of extant mythologies (which themselves possess elements of symbolism and allegory), but only to the extent the additions enrich the story and its quality, kappa, or qualia. The use of chiastic structure is one such nuanced incorporation that imbues the work with mythic quality. What I present below are some other connections I noticed and relished (from Arthurian legend; Celtic and Scandinavian art; and Greek, Norse, Finnish, and Icelandic mythology), and which in my opinion, subtly enrich the atmospheric quality of Middle-earth, while avoiding unwieldy symbolism or obvious, distracting allusions. Whereas overt references to anything other than the source material might create distance, the deft synthesis of these elements draws us more deeply into the imaginal world of Tolkien.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Ring Composition in The Rings of Power
Galadriel and Sauron: Reflecting Narrative Rings
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