The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway

Suggestion of books (by Teacher Bruna)

Literature :: Prose :: Authors :: Ernest Hemingway :: The Old Man and the Sea

By Ernest Hemingway

He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him. But after forty days without a fish the boy’s parents had told him that the old man was now definitely and finally salao, which is the worst form of unlucky and the boy had gone at their orders in another boat which caught three good fish the first week. It made the boy sad to see the old man come in each day with his skiff empty and he always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that was furled around the mast. The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled; it looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck. The brown blotches of the benevolent skin cancer the sun brings from its reflection on the tropic sea were on his cheeks. The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as erosions in a fishless desert

Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the .sea and were cheerful and undefeated

Santiago,” the boy said to him as they climbed the bank from where the skiff was” “.hauled up.”I could go with you again. We’ve made some money. The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him

“.No,” the old man said. “You’re with a lucky boat. Stay with them”

“But remember how you went eighty-seven days without fish and then we caught big ones every day for three weeks”

“I remember,” the old man said. “I know you did not leave me because you doubted.”

“.It was papa made me leave. “I am a boy and I must obey him”

“.I know,” the old man said. “It is quite normal”

“He hasn’t much faith.”

“No,” the old man said. “But we have. Haven’t we?”

Yes,” the boy said. “Can I offer you a beer on the Terrace and then we’ll take the stuff home.” “Why not?” the old man said. “Between fishermen”

They sat on the Terrace and many of the fishermen made fun of the old man and he was not angry. Others, of the older fishermen, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke politely about the current and the depths they had drifted their lines at and the steady good weather and of what they had seen. The successful fishermen of that day were already in and had butchered their marlin out and carried them laid full length across two planks, with two men staggering at the end of each ,plank to the fish house where they waited for the ice truck to carry them to the market in Havana. Those who had caught sharks had taken them to the shark factory on the other side of the cove where they were hoisted on a block and tackle, their livers removed, their fins cut off and their hides skinned out and their flesh cut into strips for salting.

When the wind was in the east a smell came across the harbour from the shark factory; but today there was only the faint edge of the odour because the wind had backed into the north and then dropped off and it was pleasant and sunny on the Terrace.

Santiago,” the boy said.

“Yes,” the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago. Can I go out to get sardines for you for tomorrow?”

“No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net”

“I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you, I would like to serve in some way” “.You bought me a beer,” the old man said. “You are already a man”

“How old was I when you first took me in a boat?”

Five and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to pieces. Can you remember?

I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me.”

“Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?”

“I remember everything from when we first went together.”

The old man looked at him with his sun-burned, confident loving eyes.

If you were my boy I’d take you out and gamble,” he said. “But you are your “father’s and your mother’s and you are in a lucky boat.”

“May I get the sardines? I know where I can get four baits too” “I have mine left from today. I put them in salt in the box”

“.Let me get four fresh ones”

One,” the old man said. His hope and his confidence had never gone. But now they were freshening as when the breeze rises.

“ Two,” the boy said”

“Two,” the old man agreed. “You didn’t steal them?”

“I would,” the boy said. “But I bought these”

“Thank you,” the old man said. He was too simple to wonder when he had attained humility. But he knew he had attained it and he knew it was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.

“Tomorrow is going to be a good day with this current,” he said”

“Where are you going?” the boy asked”

“Far out to come in when the wind shifts. I want to be out before it is light.”

I’ll try to get him to work far out,” the boy said.

“Then if you hook something truly big we can come to your aid.”

“He does not like to work too far out,”

No,” the boy said. “But I will see something that he cannot see such as a bird working and get him to come out after dolphin.”

“Are his eyes that bad?”

“He is almost blind.”

“It is strange,” the old man said. “He never went turtle-ing. That is what kills the eyes.”

“But you went turtle-ing for years off the Mosquito Coast and your eyes are goods.”

“I am a strange old man.”

“But are you strong enough now for a truly big fish?”

“I think so. And there are many tricks.” Let us take the stuff home,” the boy said. “So I can get the cast net and go after the sardines.”

Continue lendo este livro no site Classic E-Notes.

The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe

ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “ ’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “ ’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door— Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;— Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore!” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”— Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore— Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;— ’Tis the wind and nothing more.”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he, But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door— Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door— Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore— Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never—nevermore.’ ”

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted— On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore— Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore— Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting— “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore!

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain

Aunt Polly searches and screams for Tom Sawyer: she wants to confront her nephew about some missing jam. Tom, however, is able to outwit his aunt and slips away. But Aunt Polly loves him so much she cannot be too harsh with him. She is concerned that he will play hooky that afternoon, and sure enough he does. During the afternoon, Tom meets a boy from St. Louis with whom he fights. That night at home, Tom's clothes are so soiled from the fight that Aunt Polly punishes him by taking away his Saturday's freedom and assigns him the unpleasant task of whitewashing the fence. On Saturday morning, the forlorn Tom begins his tedious task of whitewashing the fence, fully aware that all of his friends are playing in the town's square. As he begins his task, Aunt Polly's slave, Jim, comes by and Tom tries to bribe him into helping, but Aunt Polly sends Jim on his business. Suddenly, Tom is horrified because one of his friends is about to come by and see him actually working on a Saturday morning. Tom pretends that what he is doing is not work because he is so thoroughly enjoying himself. Soon Ben wants to try his hand and offers Tom his apple. As Ben is painting, other friends come by and also want to try their hands at this fun game. Each boy gives Tom some sort of prize for allowing him to do some whitewashing, and Tom ends up with his fence whitewashed and a small treasury of gifts. After the fence is painted, Tom heads for the square and, on the way, stops to watch a very pretty young girl who is moving into a house down the street. He shows off for her, and she pretends to ignore him. He is attracted to her and finds out her name is Becky Thatcher. He joins his friends in fun and games where he is the leader of an army which defeats the opposing army. The next day, Sunday, he is forced to attend Sunday school and is bored with the tedium but finds ways to distract himself. Monday, after offering many excuses for not going to school, he is finally forced to go. On the way, he meets Huckleberry Finn, the son of the town drunk. Huck never goes to school and is the envy of all the boys because of his complete freedom. Huck arranges for Tom to meet him that night so they can bury a dead cat in the cemetery. At school, Tom is punished for being late and is required to sit in the "girls' section." This pleases him because the only empty seat is next to Becky Thatcher. At lunch, he meets her, and they pledge their troth to each other. At midnight, Huck arrives, and they go to the cemetery where they come upon Dr. Robinson, Injun Joe, and Muff Potter who are digging up a recently buried corpse. There is an argument, Muff is knocked unconscious, and Injun Joe murders the doctor and places the murder weapon next to Muff. The horrified boys flee and take a blood oath never to reveal what they have seen. The next day, the town is in an uproar (school is dismissed), and Injun Joe identifies Muff Potter as the murderer. Tom is fearful that Injun Joe will discover that he was a witness. Tom, his friend Joe Harper, and Huck Finn decide to become pirates. The three boys find a raft and establish camp on Jackson's Island, where they enjoy a carefree life of fishing, swimming, smoking, and exploring and playing. When a steamboat filled with most of the important townspeople passes by firing cannons over the water, the boys realize that they are presumed to be drowned. Tom sneaks home at night in order to leave Aunt Polly a reassuring note that they are all right, but he changes his mind when he overhears that church services are planned for the "deceased boys" if they are not found by Sunday. The funeral services are secretly attended by the boys, and all rejoice when the dead boys casually stroll down the aisle. Back at school, Tom finally wins Becky's heart when he takes the blame for one of her indiscretions and heroically suffers the punishment for her misdeeds. At Muff Potter's trial, it is generally accepted that Muff Potter killed Dr. Robinson and will be hanged. Tom, in spite of his oath with Huck to not reveal what he has seen, cannot stand to see an innocent person hanged for a crime he did not commit. He bravely relates what actually happened. Injun Joe makes his escape by jumping out the second story window. One day, while Tom and Huck are looking for buried treasure, they explore an old abandoned house. When two men arrive, the boys are trapped upstairs. One man is Injun Joe in disguise. The two criminals retrieve a box of silver coins they had concealed and then, by chance, discover a horde of gold coins that had been buried by some outlaws long ago. They decide to take the gold coins to Injun Joe's other hideout. The terrified boys overhear Injun Joe planning a horrible revenge before leaving the country. The boys fear that they are the subject of his planned vengeance but are fortunate enough to narrowly escape detection. The boys try to discover a place in town that would be the other hideout, but they only find a room filled with an abundant supply of whiskey in a Temperance Tavern. At the picnic celebrating Becky Thatcher's birthday, several of the boys and girls enter McDougal's Cave. Tom and Becky wander away from the others in search of privacy and become hopelessly lost. Meanwhile, Huck Finn, who is watching to discover Injun Joe's hideout, follows the two men toward Cardiff Hill, the home of the Widow Douglas and of a Welshman named Jones. Hiding behind a bush, he overhears Injun Joe telling of his intentions to mutilate the Widow Douglas because her husband, the judge, had once had him publicly horsewhipped. Huck hastens to inform Mr. Jones of the plot, and the Welshman and his sons drive off the vicious Injun Joe and his cohort. Huck has been so frightened that he becomes seriously ill, and the Widow Douglas comes to the Welshman's home and nurses the homeless boy back to health. At the same time, it is discovered that Tom and Becky are missing; they have not been seen since the cave. All the available men in the community meet and carry out a thorough search of the cave. Tom and Becky hear the search party in the distance but are too weak to call loudly enough to be heard. At one point in their ordeal, Tom catches sight of Injun Joe in a nearby passage. After they have been underground for about three days, Tom discovers a way out of the cave. He and Becky then make their way back to the town. Both are sick for a while, but Tom recovers more quickly than does Becky. Tom also discovers that Judge Thatcher has had the second exit to the cave completely sealed off. Tom reveals that Injun Joe was in the cave. In spite of Injun Joe's evil, Tom cannot let any human face the ordeal of starving that he and Becky just endured. The men go back to the cave and discover Injun Joe's body just inside the cave where he had futilely tried to dig his way out with a knife. Later, Tom and Huck return to the cave and search for Injun Joe's treasure. After many false starts and using various clues, they recover approximately $12,000 worth of gold coins. This money is invested for them, and they are rich. The Widow Douglas takes Huck into her home to educate him and train him in the ways of civilization. Huck finds schooling, not cussing, and all other things connected with civilization to be completely intolerable, and he runs away. He eventually agrees to give civilized living another try if he can join Tom's band of robbers.

Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

Alice is sitting with her sister outdoors when she spies a White Rabbitwith a pocket watch. Fascinated by the sight, she follows the rabbit down the hole. She falls for a long time, and finds herself in a long hallway full of doors. There is also a key on the table, which unlocks a tiny door; through this door, she spies a beautiful garden. She longs to get there, but the door is too small. Soon, she finds a drink with a note that asks her to drink it. There is later a cake with a note that tells her to eat; Alice uses both, but she cannot seem to get a handle on things, and is always either too large to get through the door or too small to reach the key. While she is tiny, she slips and falls into a pool of water. She realizes that this little sea is made of tears she cried while a giant. She swims to shore with a number of animals, most notably a sensitive mouse, but manages to offend everyone by talking about her cat's ability to catch birds and mice. Left alone, she goes on through the wood and runs into the White Rabbit. He mistakes her for his maid and sends her to fetch some things from his house. While in the White Rabbit's home, she drinks another potion and becomes too huge to get out through the door. She eventually finds a little cake which, when eaten, makes her small again.

In the wood again, she comes across a Caterpillar sitting on a mushroom. He gives her some valuable advice, as well as a valuable tool: the two sides of the mushroom, which can make Alice grow larger and smaller as she wishes. The first time she uses them, she stretches her body out tremendously. While stretched out, she pokes her head into the branches of a tree and meets a Pigeon. The Pigeonis convinced that Alice is a serpent, and though Alice tries to reason with her the Pigeon tells her to be off. Alice gets herself down to normal proportions and continues her trek through the woods. In a clearing she comes across a little house and shrinks herself down enough to get inside. It is the house of theDuchess; the Duchess and the Cook are battling fiercely, and they seem unconcerned about the safety of the baby that the Duchess is nursing. Alice takes the baby with her, but the child turns into a pig and trots off into the woods. Alice next meets the Cheshire cat (who was sitting in the Duchess's house, but said nothing). The Cheshire cat helps her to find her way through the woods, but he warns her that everyone she meets will be mad. Alice goes to the March Hare's house, where she is treated to a Mad Tea Party. Present are the March Hare, the Hatter, and the Dormouse. Ever since Time stopped working for the Hatter, it has always been six o'clock; it is therefore always teatime. The creatures of the Mad Tea Party are some of the must argumentative in all of Wonderland. Alice leaves them and finds a tree with a door in it: when she looks through the door, she spies the door-lined hallway from the beginning of her adventures. This time, she is prepared, and she manages to get to the lovely garden that she saw earlier. She walks on through, and finds herself in the garden of the Queen of Hearts. There, three gardeners (with bodies shaped like playing cards) are painting the roses red. If the Queen finds out that they planted white roses, she'll have them beheaded. The Queen herself soon arrives, and she does order their execution; Alice helps to hide them in a large flowerpot. The Queen invites Alice to play croquet, which is a very difficult game in Wonderland, as the balls and mallets are live animals. The game is interrupted by the appearance of the Cheshire cat, whom the King of Hearts immediately dislikes. The Queen takes Alice to the Gryphon, who in turn takes Alice to the Mock Turtle. The Gryphon and the Mock Turtle tell Alice bizarre stories about their school under the sea. The Mock Turtles sings a melancholy song about turtle soup, and soon afterward the Gryphon drags Alice off to see the trial of the Knave of Hearts. The Knave of Hearts has been accused of stealing the tarts of the Queen of Hearts, but the evidence against him is very bad. Alice is appalled by the ridiculous proceedings. She also begins to grow larger. She is soon called to the witness stand; by this time she has grown to giant size. She refuses to be intimidated by the bad logic of the court and the bluster of the King and Queen of Hearts. Suddenly, the cards all rise up and attack her, at which point she wakes up. Her adventures in Wonderland have all been a fantastic dream.

A Study in Scarlet - Arthur Conan Doyle

Excerpt: Sherlock Holmes firts meets Dr Watson From: Chapter 1 - Mr. Sherlock Holmes, A Study in Scarlet

"Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Stamford, introducing us.

"How are you?" he said cordially, gripping my hand with a strength for which I should hardly have given him credit. "You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive."

"How on earth did you know that?" I asked in astonishment.

"Never mind," said he, chuckling to himself. "The question now is about hoemoglobin. No doubt you see the significance of this discovery of mine?"

"It is interesting, chemically, no doubt," I answered, "but practically..."

"Why, man, it is the most practical medico-legal discovery for years. Don't you see that it gives us an infallible test for blood stains. Come over here now!" He seized me by the coat-sleeve in his eagerness, and drew me over to the table at which he had been working. "Let us have some fresh blood," he said, digging a long bodkin into his finger, and drawing off the resulting drop of blood in a chemical pipette. "Now, I add this small quantity of blood to a litre of water. You perceive that the resulting mixture has the appearance of pure water. The proportion of blood cannot be more than one in a million. I have no doubt, however, that we shall be able to obtain the characteristic reaction." As he spoke, he threw into the vessel a few white crystals, and then added some drops of a transparent fluid. In an instant the contents assumed a dull mahogany colour, and a brownish dust was precipitated to the bottom of the glass jar.

"Ha! ha!" he cried, clapping his hands, and looking as delighted as a child with a new toy. "What do you think of that?"

"It seems to be a very delicate test," I remarked.

"Beautiful! beautiful! The old Guiacum test was very clumsy and uncertain. So is the microscopic examination for blood corpuscles. The latter is valueless if the stains are a few hours old. Now, this appears to act as well whether the blood is old or new. Had this test been invented, there are hundreds of men now walking the earth who would long ago have paid the penalty of their crimes."

"Indeed!" I murmured.

"Criminal cases are continually hinging upon that one point. A man is suspected of a crime months perhaps after it has been committed. His linen or clothes are examined, and brownish stains discovered upon them. Are they blood stains, or mud stains, or rust stains, or fruit stains, or what are they? That is a question which has puzzled many an expert, and why? Because there was no reliable test. Now we have the Sherlock Holmes' test, and there will no longer be any difficulty."

Autor: Arthur Conan Doyle (Scotland, 22 May 1859 – England, 7 July 1930) Come completo: Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle Sobre a obra: Publicação: 1887. Contexto de produção: Inglaterra

The Lord of the rings - J. R. R. Tolkien (the best one ever!!!)

Summary — A Long-Expected Party

Because of the stories and wealth he brought back from his adventures, Bilbo Baggins is the most famous hobbit in Hobbiton. He is also considered a bit strange, however. The fact that he receives visits at his house, Bag End, from Elves, Dwarves, and the wizard Gandalf make him the object of some slight suspicion. In addition, ever since Bilbo came back to the Shire with the ring—which he has kept secret from nearly everyone—he has not seemed to age at all. In fact, he reaches his 111th birthday virtually unchanged.

When Bilbo announces that he is throwing a grand party for his “eleventy-first” birthday, everyone in the Shire takes interest. After extensive and elaborate preparation, the day of Bilbo’s birthday finally arrives. All of Hobbiton has a fine time eating, drinking, and watching the spectacular fireworks provided by Gandalf.

As dinner winds down, Bilbo rises and asks to speak to the assembled guests. The speech is short. Just as Bilbo is starting to lose his audience’s attention, he announces that he is leaving, and he suddenly disappears in a flash of light. The party guests are not amused, and they return, muttering, to their eating and drinking.

Bilbo, having used his ring to become invisible, walks back to Bag End, takes off the ring and begins packing for a journey. Gandalf arrives at the house shortly thereafter. Bilbo tells the wizard how excited he is to travel again, to see the world outside the Shire. He says that he has felt worn out recently, “like butter that has been scraped over too much bread.” Gandalf reminds Bilbo of the promise he made to leave the magic ring for his favorite cousin, young Frodo Baggins. Frodo is an orphan whom Bilbo has taken under his wing and named as the heir to his home and possessions.

Bilbo, however, is suddenly reluctant to part with the ring, and he even lashes out at Gandalf for pressuring him to keep his promise. Finally, Bilbo gives in, saying that in a way it will be relief to be rid of the ring. Even then, Gandalf has to remind Bilbo one last time to leave the ring behind as Bilbo is on his way out the door. When Bilbo finally takes the ring out of his pocket, he hesitates one last time in handing it over. He drops the ring, and when Gandalf quickly picks it up, Bilbo starts angrily. Bilbo quickly relaxes into a smile, however, and sets off jauntily with his three Dwarf companions.

Frodo arrives back at the house soon after Bilbo leaves. Gandalf tells Frodo that Bilbo has left the ring for him. He warns Frodo not to use the ring and to keep it secret and safe. All the next day, Frodo busily distributes the gifts Bilbo left for various Hobbits, and he deals with all sorts of inquisitive and bothersome visitors. After the gifts have been distributed, Gandalf arrives, seeming troubled, to tell Frodo he is leaving immediately. Gandalf asks Frodo what he knows about the ring, and he warns Frodo again not to use the ring and to keep it a secret.

Analysis

One of the great accomplishments—and much of the appeal—of The Lord of the Rings is the exhaustive level of detail of the world Tolkien creates. Middle-earth is full of different races and creatures, each with its own customs, language, history, and mythology. The Prologue, with its anthropological tone, has already prepared us for this unfamiliar world. The Prologue’s level of detail—about the Shire’s political structure and layout, as well as the habits of Hobbits—not only imbues everything with an aura of real history, but gives the weight of detail to a tale many readers might at first find too fanciful.

The Shire serves as a perfect jumping-off place for the tale. Like many of us modern readers, Hobbits are suspicious of talk of magic and monsters. The Shire, more than any other place in The Lord of the Rings, feels familiar, and would have been even more familiar for an English audience fifty years ago. With its cozy homes, small gardens and inns, and portly and good-natured farmers, the Shire is an idealized version of the English countryside in which Tolkien grew up. With its sleepy, complacent air and commonsense values, it appears to be on the sidelines of the sweeping battle about to be fought for the Ring. Perhaps most importantly, the Shire eases us into the fantastical landscape of Middle-earth. We, like Frodo and his Hobbit companions, set out into an unknown and mystical wider world from the comfortable confines of the Shire.

The Shire is not merely a quaint countryside steeped with charm. Though it is a comforting place, there is something severely limited—even stifling—in its provincial mindset. Bilbo and Frodo both appear to note this aspect of the Shire. Later, Frodo admits to Gandalf that he has often grown exasperated with the Shire and its inhabitants. Nonetheless, knowing of its existence during his travels is a comfort to Frodo: “I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.” For all its limits, the Shire and the Hobbits who live in it represent the virtues of simplicity, stability, and determined practicality in the face of the head-spinning events to come.

For readers of The Hobbit, the picture of Bilbo presented in Chapter 1 may come as something of a shock. In The Hobbit, the elder Baggins is a jolly, somewhat bumbling hero, with great charisma and perhaps greater luck—in short, a character about whom we enjoy reading and with whom we long to identify. In The Fellowship of the Ring, however, we see that the many intervening years have changed Bilbo drastically, and not, it appears, for the better. The once-familiar Bilbo, through whose perspective we see virtually every enjoyable minute of The Hobbit, suddenly seems very foreign. Within the larger community of Hobbiton he appears to be an outmoded, odd old individual, and an object of great suspicion among the community. Though Tolkien tells us that the typical Hobbit’s viewpoint is admittedly provincial, the community does appear to have valid concerns about Bilbo. Why does he receive such strange visitors? Why is it that, even at 111 years of age, he has not physically aged at all? Nonetheless, our hopes remain high for Bilbo’s grand birthday celebration—but even that leads to a bit of a letdown when we see how the once- charismatic hobbit quickly loses the audience’s attention even during his short speech.

Tolkien intends the new Bilbo to have exactly this sort of disorienting effect, and the author hints that a large part of this shift in Bilbo’s character may be due to his possession of the mysterious ring for so many years. Whenever the subject of the ring comes up, Bilbo’s behavior becomes strange, unpredictable, and erratic; his words turn defensive and evasive. We learn that Bilbo has kept the ring secret all these years, and we then see that he lies about it and attempts to keep it even after promising to hand it over to Gandalf. We hear Bilbo make the mysterious and perhaps surprising admission that it will, in a way, be a relief finally to be rid of the ring. Together, these elements of the first chapter raise a sense of foreboding about the ring, making us curious as to what exactly the ring is and what role it is to play in the story. Furthermore, as we know that the ring is being passed on to Frodo, we wonder whether it will have the same bizarre effects on this younger Baggins. These suspicions, compounded and made more ominous by Gandalf’s tale in the upcoming chapter, hang over the entirety of the story of The Lord of the Rings. This masterful and subtle use of foreshadowing on Tolkien’s part creates a sense of dread and anticipation, as we wonder and worry whether Frodo will himself fall victim to the ring’s spell. This sense of foreboding expectancy drives the narrative forward, making a very lengthy novel breeze by as we await the answers to questions and issues raised here, in the opening pages.