The Feanorian Alphabet, Part 1; Quenya Verb Structure by J.R.R. Tolkien (review)

Nelson Goering

Tolkien Studies, Volume 14, 2017, pp. 191-201 (Review)

Published by West Virginia University Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/tks.2017.0015

For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/678505

Access provided by Oxford University Library Services (23 Mar 2018 09:56 GMT) Book Reviews cent resurfacing of interest in the Lay, and with far less reliable infor- mation to go on. Dimitra Fimi Cardiff Metropolitan University Cardiff, Wales

Works Cited

Burns, Marjorie. Perilous Realms: Celtic and Norse in Tolkien’s Middle-­ earth. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005. Fimi, Dimitra. “ ‘Mad Elves’ and ‘Elusive Beauty’: Some Celtic Strands of Tolkien’s My­thol­ogy.” Folklore 117.2 (2006): 156–70. _____. “Tolkien’s ‘ “Celtic” type of legends’: Merging Traditions.” Tolk- ien Studies 4 (2007): 51–71. Flieger, Verlyn. Green Suns and Faërie: Essays on J.R.R. Tolkien. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2012. _____. Interrupted ­Music: The Making of Tolkien’s My­thol­ogy. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2005. Phelpstead, Carl. Tolkien and Wales: Language, Lit­er­a­ture and Identity. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2011. Yates, Jessica. “The Source of ‘The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun.’ ” Leaves from the Tree: J.R.R. Tolkien’s Shorter Fiction, ed. T. A. Shippey, et al. London: Tolkien Society, 1991. 63–71.

The Feanorian Alphabet, Part 1; Quenya Verb Structure, by J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Gilson and Arden R. Smith. Mountain View, CA: Parma Eldalamberon, 2015. 170 pp. $40 (oversize paperback) [no ISBN]. Parma Eldalamberon 22. The latest volume of Parma Eldalamberon focuses largely on linguistic materials produced by Tolkien during the enormously creative decade-­ and-­a-­half span of c. 1936–1951, the same period which saw signifi- cant elaboration of the ‘Quenta Silmarillion’ (Lost Road 199–338), the writing of The Lord of the Rings, and an energetic return to the ­matter of the Elder Days (WJ vii). Many of the documents published in Parma since volume 18 make it clear that Tolkien’s creative linguistics some- what paralleled his literary work on the Silmarillion (in its broad

191 Book Reviews sense), with the periods both just before and just ­after The Lord of the Rings being particularly fruitful (though language invention, evidently to a greater degree than the Silmarillion, seems never to have been set wholly aside). The materials edited in t­hese last several issues of Parma have generally covered a roughly similar span of years, being distinguished less by period than by topic: volume 18 dealt with the most archaic and essential features of Elvish root structure and basic morphological operations, 19 with the phonology of Quenya, and 21 with nouns (volume 20 was devoted wholly to writing systems). The pres­ent volume contains documents on two topics: spelling (both in Elvish and Roman letters), and the verb; the editors tell us that ­future volumes w­ ill cover further writings from this same period on personal pronouns, and demonstrative, relative, and correlative stems. The first text edited h­ ere is “The Feanorian Alphabet, Part 1,” de- scribed by the editor, Arden R. Smith, as dating from “sometime in the late 1930s” (see below for more on the date). This is both the longest document in the volume, and prob­ably of the most general interest to readers of Tolkien. In one sense, this text can be regarded as a continuation of Smith’s formidable pre­sen­ta­tion of the history of Tolkien’s in­ven­ted scripts, which have formed part or all of many pre- vious volumes of Parma. The current text is, however, of a very dif­fer­ ent nature from most of its forebears: where the “Pre-­Fëanorian Alphabets” or “The Qenya Alphabet” (issues 16, 18, and 20) mostly presented curt notes, scattered charts, and samples of the scripts put to vari­ous modern or whimsical uses, “The Feanorian Alphabet” is a coherent and eloquent essay, systematically outlining the history and development of vari­ous modes of Elvish writing within Middle-­earth. This subject ­matter is strongly reminiscent of Appendix E of The Lord of the Rings, outlining the structural princi­ples of the writing sys- tem, its adaption for the writing of dif­fer­ent languages, and the vari­ ous sound-­values and names of the individual letters. “The Feanorian Alphabet” is, however, rather longer, and differs in numerous details from Tolkien’s ­later conceptions. A­ fter a “general or phonetic” mode of the Tengwar, held to be in­ven­ted by Feanor (so h­ ere spelt), is out- lined, Tolkien describes four dif­fer­ent language-­specific applications: for Lindarin, the Parmaqesta variety of Quenya, Old Noldorin, and the Beleriandic or Exilic usage. The uses of t­hese terms reflect Tolk- ien’s older view of Elvish linguistic history, particularly as outlined in the roughly con­temporary “Lhammas” (Lost Road 167–98). In this view, Quenya was originally the language only of the First Clan (called the Lindar at this stage, ­later renamed Vanyar), fixed in an early “classi- cal” form, the Parmaqesta or “book language,” recognized by all Elves as a high-­status auxiliary language (functionally similar to Latin in

192 Book Reviews medieval Eu­rope). The distinction between normal Lindarin and clas- sical Quenya is concretely demonstrated by Tolkien’s invention of separate “modes” of writing for Lindarin and for Parmaqesta. The latter is apparently of far more interest to Tolkien: “The Lindarin Use” is sketched in ­under three edited pages, while the section on “Parmaqe- starin Use” extends for nearly nine. For the latter, Tolkien describes changes in convention over time, variant ways of representing vowels, the short names and order for reciting the letters as an alphabet (one thinks of Elvish schoolchildren learning their pā, fā, vā’s), and ‘full names’ where each letter can be referred to by an example word (so the letter recited as pā, representing the sound [p], also has the name parma [book]—­this princi­ple, and indeed many of the specific names, ­will be familiar from Appendix E). The following section on Old Noldorin illustrates just how detailed and apparently firm Tolkien’s earlier conception of Noldorin linguis- tic history was. At this time, he still held to his original view that his ‘Celtic-­type’ language was the native language of the Noldor, de- scended from their already-­distinctive dialect in Valinor (though not taking on its full, familiar form u­ ntil a­ fter their Flight and Exile). Vari­ ous Old Noldorin forms are cited as historical exempla in other lin- guistic writings, but this portion of “The Feanorian Alphabet” stands out for strongly anchoring Old Noldorin forms and writing conven- tions in time and place. This mode of writing was, despite Tolkien’s detailed elaboration of it h­ ere, destined to become a victim of the ­great upheavals to the linguistic history that occurred when Tolkien deci­ded that ‘Noldorin’ was actually ‘Sindarin,’ a language wholly de- veloped in Middle-­earth and only ­adopted by the Noldor ­after their return from Valinor: the Old Noldorin script became wholly obsolete, since ­under the new conception ‘Old Sindarin’ naturally could not have ever been written using the Feanorian letters. On the other hand, Tolkien’s second Noldorin mode, “The Exilic or Beleriandic Usage,” is the close forerunner of the style of ‘full writ- ing’ seen on the Moria Gate inscription. This section, even longer than the description of the Parmaqesterin mode, is closely rooted in the early history of the Noldor in Beleriand. Tolkien traces changed uses based on linguistic changes, often noting variations found at dif­fer­ ent places or dif­fer­ent times. He at one point contrasts the more ar- chaic Gondolic with “late Exilic (­after Y[ear of the] S[un] 307).” The significance of this very specific date is made clear by the earlier dat- ing in “The L­ ater Annals of Beleriand,” where the Year of the Sun 307 was the date of the fall of Gondolin (Lost Road 142), an event which prompted the formation of ‘late Exilic’ as refugees speaking vari­ous types of Noldorin converged and mingled at the mouths of Sirion.

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This reference to “Y. S. 307” (and to other dates consistent with this being the year of Gondolin’s fall) can prob­ably also help us date this first version of “The Feanorian Alphabet” more precisely. In the course of working on the “Quenta Silmarillion,” Tolkien extended the chro- nology of the Siege of Angband by two centuries, so that the fall of Gondolin was changed to take place in the year 507 (Lost Road 257f). This provides us a probable terminus ante quem for “The Feanorian Alphabet” of 15 November 1937, when Tolkien gave the “Quenta Sil- marillion” to Stanley Unwin (C&G 1:205). As a terminus post quem, Smith in his introduction notes that the use of Númenórea in an example of Parmaqesterin use (19) places the composition of this text ­after the genesis of the Númenor myth (8). If John Garth’s recent dating of the first appearance of úN menor to 4–8 December 1936 is correct, this would give us a range of less than a year for the composition of this version of “The Feanorian Alphabet,” and prob­ably not at the very end of this span, since Christopher Tolkien observes that the extension of the chronology took place “at an early stage” of work on the ‘Quenta’ (Lost Road 258). Other small but in­ter­est­ing historical details abound, such as a brief biographical note concerning the central but shadowy loremaster Pen- goloð (the last consonant is spelled variously by Tolkien), a key figure in Tolkien’s conceptions of how Elvish lore was preserved and trans- mitted to l­ater days. A paper included in the Old Noldorin section has the note that “Pengolođ was of mixed Telerin (Doriath) and Noldorin ancestry, though living in Gondolin.” Given that his earlier history is never presented to us in narrative terms, and is barely mentioned any- where ­else, it is remarkable to see very nearly the same origin (allow- ing for the somewhat changed conception of the Elves of Beleriand) appear some two de­cades ­later in Tolkien’s masterful late essay “Quendi and Eldar,” where Pengoloð is “an Elf of mixed Sindarin and Ñoldorin ancestry, born in Nevrast, who lived in Gondolin from its foundation” (WJ 396). Pengoloð’s mixed heritage appears to have been an enduring and impor­tant part of his character, anchoring him both in the learned traditions of the Noldor and the perhaps more organic traditions of Beleriand, but any further details (such as who his par- ents might have been) must remain a mystery. More broadly, the “Alphabet of Feanor” can be seen as emblematic of this phase of Tolkien’s creative work. In the late 1930’s, he seems to have attempted to complete and expand both his literary and linguis- tic writings of the Elder Days and to pres­ent them as a consistent corpus of lore taught to the Anglo-­Saxon Ælfwine by Pengoloð, and by Ælfwine transmitted to us ­later mortals. Many works already mentioned, from the “Lhammas” to the “Quenta” to the linguistic

194 Book Reviews writings of the “Tengwesta Qendarinwa,” the “Outline of Phonetic Development,” and of course the extensive “Etymologies” can all prob­ ably be seen as part of this same impulse during this period. The centrality of Ælfwine was already clear from the “Alphabet of Feanor,” where the section on the Exilic writing includes a section on Ælfwine’s transcription of the language (33f). This impression is only strength- ened by the documents in the second section of the volume, which approach the spelling of the Elvish languages from a dif­fer­ent per- spective. The first text is indicated by Tolkien to be a section on “Spelling and Transcription” meant for inclusion in a “Qenya Gram- mar,” but the editors (­here, Gilson and Smith together) give it the more memorable name “Qenya Spelling.” This is followed by a series of versions of a document titled (in most of the drafts) “On Ælfwine’s Spelling.” “Qenya Spelling” is superficially very similar to that part of the “Al- phabet of Feanor” dealing with Parmaqestarin usage, but it has a no- ticeably greater focus on phonology, and elaborates considerably on how Ælfwine is supposed to have adapted the Roman alphabet for use with Qenya. Actually the focus on Ælfwine’s spelling is almost as much on justifying the points in which Tolkien’s usual transcription of spell- ing differs from what he supposes an educated Anglo-­Saxon like Ælf- wine would have devised upon encountering Qenya. It is a testament to Tolkien’s concern with philological consistency, and to the fundamen- tal importance of Ælfwine as a ‘mediator’ of the legendarium, that Tolkien should have gone to such lengths to elaborate this intermedi- ate spelling system, rather than referring his own customary spell- ing of Qenya and Noldorin directly to the ‘original’ alphabet of Feanor. Perhaps more in­ter­est­ing is the series of six versions of “Ælfwine’s Spelling” which focus primarily on writing Noldorin (renamed to Sindarin in the final version, which is suggestive of the timespan on which Tolkien worked on this text). Though ­there is a ­great deal of repetition from version to version, the editors are, I think, wholly jus- tified in presenting each draft in full: part of the interest­h ere is in watching the ebb and flow of Tolkien’s ideas. He begins with a discus- sion of Ælfwine’s ‘normal’ practice for spelling Elvish names in liter- ary writings, which more or less amounts to writing them using Old En­glish spelling conventions (along the lines of the many Old En­glish versions of names found in The Shaping of Middle-­earth). Tolkien quickly moves onto his main concern: the considered system of transcription that Ælfwine devised for a more accurate linguistic transliteration in technical writings. Tolkien’s main prob­lem is how Ælfwine would have handled the distinction between voiceless fricatives—[f] and [θ], as in

195 Book Reviews fin and thin—­and their voiced counter­parts—[v] and [ð], as in lever and leather—­which ­were not distinguished in Old En­glish spelling. The core of Tolkien’s solution remained fairly stable across the documents: Ælfwine used f and þ for the voiced sounds (odd as this looks from a modern En­glish perspective), and the combinations ph and th for the voiceless sounds. He refines his statement of the prob­lem considerably, including incorporating a set of example Old En­glish words, and even- tually also clarifies the differences in Ælfwine’s approach to Noldorin and to Quenya. The latter is associated much more strongly with Latin ­because, as he has Ælfwine put it in the final version, “the Quenya is indeed the Latin of the Ælfe (Elves), though it be of greater reverence and age than even the language of Rome or any other tongue among Mortal Men” (77). Other considerations rise and fall—­Tolkien, for in- stance, develops and then rejects the idea that Ælfwine used the letter combination sh to denote a voiceless [s] (as in sip, not as in ship)—so that the w­ hole series forms an excellent short illustration of what C. S. Lewis called Tolkien’s ‘coral insect’ method of working, a curious mix- ture of steady refinement and scenic detours. In the first version of Æ“ lfwine’s Spelling” we also catch a glimpse of how Tolkien changed the justification of certain spelling choices over time. Tolkien was by this point working on The Lord of the Rings, and he briefly discusses Ælfwine’s spelling of the name Rohan. He notes that in proper Noldorin this should be Rochan ‘Horse-­land’, but attributes the h partly to Ælfwine’s habits, and partly to the “Toleres- sean pronunciation. In which ch has become weakened [to h]” (68). It seems likely that Tolkien’s primary motivation in using h is to avoid misleading modern readers, who would be liable to mispronounce the Noldorin ch (properly as in German Buch, not as in En­glish church). This explanation of a late Toleressean pronunciation ­adopted by Ælf- wine was a con­ve­nient in-­world means to account for this spelling of Rohan in a philologically acceptable way. However, as the ‘frame de- vice’ of The Lord of the Rings changed, and the supposed history of the texts came to revolve around scribes in Gondor and the Shire (see the “Note on the Shire Rec­ords” in the prologue to The Lord of the Rings), Tolkien found himself left with an ‘incorrect’ form of (now) Sindarin in Rohan. He came up with a new solution, which was essentially the old solution in a new historical context: it was the weakening of ch to h in the pronunciation of Gondor that led to the Rohan of the story (RK, Appendix E, I, 391; s.v. ­Children; also UT, 318f). The a­ ctual prob­ lem of Rohan for Rochan(d) is in itself an apparently minor detail, but in accounting for such details we can see the slow shifts in Tolkien’s thought, and in par­tic­u­lar the subtle upheavals that ­were caused by

196 Book Reviews intrusion of the Red Book as a replacement of or supplement to Ælf- wine as the g­ reat mediator of this ancient lore. The third and final section of the volume is given over to vari­ous texts on the Quenya verb, all edited by Christopher Gilson. The ma- jority of ­these all clearly belong to the same ­family of texts, part of Tolkien’s attempt to produce a comprehensive set of linguistic writings during the period mentioned above, including grammars of Eldarin and Quenya. As with the other texts discussed so far, Tolkien appears to have done at least a certain amount of work on them even while writ- ing The Lord of the Rings, and many of the revisions and l­ater writings appear to date from the 1940’s. Their general nature is very much like Tolkien’s other linguistic texts, which John Garth has amply described in reviews of previous issues of Parma Eldalamberon in this journal. They show numerous layers of revision (posing a significant editorial challenge, which Gilson has generally met effectively, if not always elegantly—­lengthy footnotes are unavoidably frequent), take numer- ous technical grammatical concepts for granted (including ones devised by Tolkien himself, such as sundóma and ómataima, the ex- planations of which need to be sought in the “Tengwesta Qender- inwa”), and are unrepentantly grammatical in their focus. For ­those who do press through all or part of this material ­there are certainly rewards, and Tolkien’s morphological systems should be regarded as a real (if rather abstract) aesthetic achievement in their own right, alongside his better acknowledged successes in the realms of phonol- ogy (it might be useful to think of ‘morphaesthetics’ alongside phonaesthetics). But t­hese texts are not for the faint of heart, and even ­those of a linguistic bent may find them difficult­go ing, particularly when it comes to engaging with the vari­ous revisions and alterations. The core of this section includes two versions of a document on “Quendian and Common Eldarin Verbal Structure,” and a closely complementary text on the “Quenya Verbal System.” T­ hese two texts (in their vari­ous versions) cover much the same ground, but the first approaches the m­ atter from an Eldarin perspective, and the second from Quenya. In practice, even this difference is not very g­ reat. Tolk- ien envisioned Quenya as preserving a ­great deal of the Eldarin sys- tem, and Tolkien’s historical perspective means that he routinely discusses Eldarin and Quenya in terms of each other—­and at one point, Tolkien even moves an entire section from one document to the other (98, n. 24, and 122, n. 126). As a chief exponent of a recon- structed verbal system, Quenya appears to occupy much the same place within the Eldarin ­family as Greek does for Indo-­European com- parative philology. (­There is also a curious specific emulation of one

197 Book Reviews feature from Greek historical phonology, in what appears to be the operation of Grassmann’s law by “using an unaspirated consonant before an aspirate” in Quenya reduplicating syllables; 132.) As is apparent from the titles, ­these texts deal with the ‘verbal sys- tem’ broadly speaking. The focus is not on the elaborate system of per- son and number endings in Quenya, but rather on stem formation: how a verbal root or base is altered to signal differences in tense (the dis- tinction in En­glish between “I am walking” and “I was walking”) and aspect (the difference between “I am walking” and “I walk”). Strik- ingly, t­here is also a fair amount of space devoted to syntax, a rarity in Tolkien’s often densely phonological or morphological linguistic writ- ings (Lowdham’s “Verbs! Syntax at last!” may serve as a description of ­these sections). The w­ hole endeavor is indicative at once of the robust- ness of Tolkien’s in­ven­ted grammar, which is elaborated in finely con- sistent detail, and of its fragility: the mood affixes of an earlier stage of Quenya have simply vanished (prob­ably prompting the syntactic notes as Tolkien worked out how ‘mood’ would be expressed phras- ally); over the course of revision personal affixes go from being prefixes to suffixes—­“I eat” was earlier ni mati-­ (95), and ­later mati-­nye (131)—­a m­ atter which Tolkien had been, it seems, go­ ing back and forth on for de­cades; and the verb “to be” was completely overhauled at one point (fi­nally giving rise to the iconic form ea, Ea “it is”). In many of the systematic changes (in contrast to his niggling with the details of par­tic­u­lar idioms), Tolkien has the appearance of a gar- dener: sometimes allowing large new growths, and then pruning back other areas to keep the w­ hole from becoming overgrown. For instance, Tolkien at one point introduced the idea that verbs could, in addition to a “past imperfect” (indicating an ongoing action in the past, e.g., kárane “I was making”), also form a “consuetudinal past” (karalyane “I used to make”), which was formed by adding past tense endings to a participle. This was in addition to vari­ous other past forms Tolkien had already devised,1 and in revision Tolkien ­later trimmed this extremely complex system back a l­ittle: outside of verse, a given verb would nor- mally use ­either the “past imperfect” or the participial form, now called the “long imperfect” (101, and n. 11). Of course, the trimming only went so far, and the remaining system was still extremely elaborate: Tolkien at one point calculates that, omitting a few rarer or derived forms, ­there ­were “about 694 verbal forms provided by inflection for a fully conjugated Quenya verb” (110). Tolkien also appears to have been reluctant to impose too many limitations on the language of verse, emulating the kind of poetic freedom he seems to have admired in Homer or the Kalevala. While much of Quenya’s grammar appears to be based on the idea

198 Book Reviews of transparent regularity and ­free agglutination, Tolkien spends a fair amount of time elaborating points of striking irregularity and idiosyn- crasy. This is particularly well illustrated in a set of verbs that Tolkien at one point calls “half-­strong” (114), including ista ‘know’, orta ‘rise’, and sirya ‘flow.’ He spent a ­great deal of time niggling over their past forms (orta is of par­tic­u­lar interest, since the “half-­strong” verb mean- ing ‘rise’ overlaps in some—­but not all—of its forms with a transitive derivative orta ‘raise’). He proposes a series of phonological and ana- logical developments to give each of t­hese verbs a past tense form slightly dif­fer­ent in structure from the o­ thers: in the “Quenya Verbal Structure,” sinte, oronte, and sirinye (115). From an aesthetic stand- point, such quirks add a g­ reat deal of texture to Quenya morphology, which could, in its productive regularity, run the risk of appearing too mechanical and combinatory. If Quenya could be compared to the city of Paris, such irregularities serve as the narrow and winding Quar­tier Latin, providing a counterpoint to the city’s many grandly straight boulevards. The final section of the volume gathers together fourteen docu- ments ­under the heading “Late Notes on Verb Structure,” though in fact the subjects treated range widely, and even t­hose on the same piece of paper do not always have an obvious relation to each other. ­These all date from c. 1969, and so reflect a much­l ater stage of work than anything ­else presented in this volume. Although Gilson does not explic­itly say so, it may be that such a large jump implies ­there are no further materials on the Quenya verb to come, and that every­thing ­else from the 1950’s and 1960’s has already appeared e­ ither in Parma 17 or in one issue or another of Vinyar Tengwar. If so, then it may now be pos­si­ble for an enterprising student to produce a full history of the Quenya verb, as Tolkien developed it across a lifetime of niggling. The documents themselves are often rambling and brief, occasion- ally coalescing into short essays—on the ­whole, they are highly reminis- cent of the sort of material that constitutes the bulk of Parma 17. The verbs ista, orta, and sirya reappear (157, 159, 164), as they also do in Parma 17 (77), a testament to Tolkien’s enduring interest in this verb class (whose history can also be traced in early volumes as well). Nega- tion is discussed at length, especially in note 13, one of the most co- herent extended writings in the group (this is tangentially related to the discussion of the orta group through the historical morphology of one of the negative verbs, Quenya ava-­). Intentionality and futurity re- ceive an extended discussion in the final document. Other jottings deal with vari­ous sound changes, verbal expressions, and etymologies. One curious note provides a Quenya name for the Rohirrim: Erulin- gar, adapted from “their own name Eorlingas” (158), a term which was

199 Book Reviews taken up in an example sentence in the ­later essay on futurity (166). As in­ter­est­ing as this form was, Tolkien subsequently realized it was a ­mistake, incompatible with the scheme of translation outlined in Ap- pendix F.II of The Lord of the Rings, and he accordingly noted: “No—­ for this would suppose an ­actual contact between Quenya and Germanic in the ‘Third Age’ ” (166). The volume closes with minimal back-­matter, just a list of abbrevia- tions. That t­here is no index is certainly understandable—it would have been an exceedingly complex and difficult undertaking—­but is nonetheless a real drawback for the user. Fortunately, the t­ able of con- tents at the beginning is relatively detailed, as is the summary of top- ics of the “Late Notes on Verb Structure” (141), which together make it pos­si­ble to navigate to par­tic­u­lar thematic sections relatively easily. Finding examples or discussions of specific words can remain a major challenge. Taken as a w­ hole, the texts in this volume represent a substantial contribution to our understanding of the more philological side of Tolkien’s creative work, particularly during the central years of c. 1936–1951. While the Silmarillion has, not without good reason, been called the work of Tolkien’s heart (to lightly paraphrase Shippey 247), we are increasingly able to see how this might be even better said of his in­ven­ted languages. The two phases of the Silmarillion at the be- ginning and end of this period appear to have equally vital for his Elvish grammars, and his interest in ­these was further maintained, at least sporadically, during the period that his literary energies w­ ere di- rected ­towards The Lord of the Rings. Although the section on the Fea- norian alphabet is but the latest installment in Arden R. Smith’s ongoing study of Tolkien’s in­ven­ted scripts, and the pre­sen­ta­tion of Tolkien’s grammars of this time is ongoing, many of the central strands of Tolkien’s linguistic invention are becoming steadily clearer, in all their arcane beauty. Nelson Goering University of Oxford

Notes

1. At one point, Tolkien seems to have had at least eight dif­fer­ent forms conveying vari­ous nuances of past-­ness: the (plain) past (karne), the perfect (akárie), the past imperfect (kárane), the “con- suetudinal past” (karalyane), the pluperfect (karnelyane), and the “long perfect” (akárielye/karnelye), along with the aorist (kare), which could often be used of past time when the context was clear.

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Works Cited

Garth, John. “When JRR Tolkien bet CS Lewis: the wager that gave birth to The Lord of the Rings.” The Telegraph, 8 December 2016. Shippey, Tom. J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the ­Century. London: HarperCol- lins, 2001.

Approaches to Teaching Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and Other Works, edited by Leslie A. Donovan. New York: Modern Language Association of Amer­i­ca, 2015. xii, 279 pp. $24.00 (softcover). ISBN 9781603292061. Over the years, I’ve relied upon several volumes in the Modern Lan- guage Association’s Approaches to Teaching World Lit­er­a­ture se- ries. Each one has proven to be an essential aid in the classroom. In addition, I’ve admired Leslie A. Donovan’s work as a scholar and teacher for more than two de­cades. And yet, nothing prepared me for Donovan’s Approaches to Teaching Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and Other Works. This book is a stellar accomplishment. ­There are more than 100 titles in the Approaches to Teaching World Lit­er­a­ture series. Each one has a clear goal: to provide a com- prehensive resource to help teachers cover a significant book in their classrooms. An effort is made to include ­every kind of teaching envi- ronment and vari­ous levels of study. Each volume also seeks to reflect “the philosophies, approaches, thoughts, and methods of scores of ex- perienced teachers.”1 Part One of this book is called “Materials.” It includes a brief biog- raphy of Tolkien, notes on the vari­ous editions of Tolkien’s work, a splendid overview of recommended books called “The Instructor’s Li- brary,” and a substantial list of multimedia aids: m­ usic, video record- ings, charts, maps, and films. It is a skillful overview of a broad and challenging field: in roughly 30 pages, beginners are directed to the most trustworthy voices in the field, and ­others are encouraged to con- sider new and noteworthy materials. Part Two, “Approaches,” is the heart of the m­ atter. It consists of 29 essays written by teachers, discussing the nuts and bolts of how they teach Tolkien. What all the essays have in common is a pellucid clarity and specificity: lesson plans, assignments, quotes from students, exam questions, and lecture outlines are all spelled out in glorious detail. Teaching Tolkien for the first time?­H ere is wise guidance for e­ very as- pect of your course. Been teaching Tolkien for years? You w­ ill be in- spired with the seemingly endless possibilities of fresh approaches.

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