Tolkien’s “Mythopoeia”: Part 1

Professor J.R.R. Tolkien, creator of Middle Earth

I want to talk about a poem by one of the masters of modern fantasy, J.R.R. Tolkien. In fact, Tolkien has been called the Father of Modern Fantasy, as it was his work, especially, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion , that have inspired fantasy writers for the second half of the century, ever since the story of the War of the Ring became popular in the Sixties. In the poem Mythopoeia, Tolkien explains his view of the validity of myth, particularly of the creation of myth, which is what the word “mythopoeia” means. Since it’s so long, I’m going to be breaking this discussion into three parts, with this as the first part.

So, here’s Mythopoeia by Professor J.R.R. Tolkien.

 

“To one [C.S. Lewis] who said that myths were lies and therefore worthless, even though ‘breathed through silver’.

Philomythus to Misomythus”

First off, we can see from the dedication that the poem was intended for C.S. Lewis, whom Tolkien calls “Misomythus”, or Myth Hater. I’m assuming that this was written before Lewis converted from atheism to Christianity, as he had, before his conversion, been a rationalist, which often denies the validity of myth.

 “You look at trees and label them just so,
(for trees are ‘trees’, and growing is ‘to grow’);
you walk the earth and tread with solemn pace
one of the many minor globes of Space:
a star’s a star, some matter in a ball
compelled to courses mathematical
amid the regimented, cold, inane,
where destined atoms are each moment slain.”

I love the beginning of this. Myth is much more than just a lie believed by savages. It’s living poetry that keeps us from being trapped in a cold and inane world where all we are is atoms. With myth, whether organic or created, we become alive, more than someone who simply calls “some matter in a ball, compelled to courses mathematical.”

“At bidding of a Will, to which we bend
(and must), but only dimly apprehend,
great processes march on, as Time unrolls
from dark beginnings to uncertain goals;
and as on page o’er-written without clue,
with script and limning packed of various hue,
an endless multitude of forms appear,
some grim, some frail, some beautiful, some queer,
each alien, except as kin from one
remote Origo, gnat, man, stone, and sun.”

Time marches on, and what are we in the great scheme of things? As we see the world continue, “from dark beginnings to uncertain goals”, we see “an endless multitude of forms.” These forms are the things by which we make our myth, all originating from the “remote Origo”, a term that means, essentially, the origin of all we’re discussing. In this case, the origo of the world.

 “God made the petreous rocks, the arboreal trees,
tellurian earth, and stellar stars, and these
homuncular men, who walk upon the ground
with nerves that tingle touched by light and sound.
The movements of the sea, the wind in boughs,
green grass, the large slow oddity of cows,
thunder and lightning, birds that wheel and cry,
slime crawling up from mud to live and die,
these each are duly registered and print
the brain’s contortions with a separate dint.”

As a Christian, it makes sense that Tolkien would proscribe the creation of the world to God, and he imbues in the world a mythic standard. While some of the phrases, like “tellurian earth”, “stellar stars”, and “homuncular men”, are redundant, that may be the point. Myth involves layers upon layers of meaning, and when those layers are redundant, it adds intention, strength, and purpose to them. Of course earth is tellurian, and stars are obviously stellar, but Tolkien’s point is that they are more than just the thing we see. There is a deeper meaning that is not understood through words or science, but through meditation on the nature of what it means to be tellurian, stellar, and homuncular.

As we’ve seen, myth is more than simply stories; it’s the layers of meaning that are hidden beneath the way we view the world. When we create a world of our own, to make it real, we need to do more than simply copy the work of others. Elves, dwarves, and orcs are fine to include. Dragons, chimeras, and gryphons are great. Make them your own. Give them your own meaning, not just something to say, “This isn’t like the rest.” Make it something that is yours, coming from your view of the world, and therefore from your world. Even if you’re not religious, making a living, meaningful fantasy world borders on a religious experience, because it’s drawing from the myth that gives you meaning.

Dark Age of the Conworld

So, I’ve kind of let this blog go by the wayside for a while. Yes, I know, bad blogger. On a somewhat personal note, I’ve been having a bit of a hard time. Things can get kind of crazy in life. We all know how it is. We get depressed, and all the work we’ve done seems to come down around our heads like an empire that falls into a dark age. Speaking of dark ages, I want to talk about putting them into your fantasy world.

See that there? That’s called a segue! Okay, sure, it’s a clunky and awkward segue, but it’s still a segue, so there.

At any rate, when we talk about the Dark Ages, what do we really mean? A dangerous, deadly time of disease, plague, and warfare where anyone from the peasantry to the nobility, and even the seemingly sacrosanct clergy can be cut down by mercenaries and soldiers alike? You realize I just described the Italian Renaissance, right? The term “Dark Age” is usually used in retrospect with a heavy dose of temporal ethnocentricism, where we view our culture as better than all the rest that came before us. Those who view urbanization as the ideal would see a pastoral or nomadic culture as being in a Dark Age, or those who view the pastoral and nomadic life as ideal would see urban life as being completely dystopian.

Essentially, the concept of the Dark Age is a mythical, historical dystopia. Instead of futuristic dystopias, where the predominant culture has degenerated into danger and paranoia, it’s set before the ideal culture has even come to be. Either that, or it did come about after the ideal, mythologized culture degenerated, but now we’ve risen out of the ashes of that Dark Age to reclaim society and thumb our noses at the barbarians of the past.

Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with throwing a Dark Age or two into the back story of a fantasy world, or even of a science fiction world. It makes it interesting. Barbarians and dark magic made Robert E. Howard the writer he was. Stories set in that Dark Age tend to be sword and sorcery when it’s fantasy and dystopian fiction when it’s science fiction. There are a few things to take note of before you do, though.

1. Don’t make the entire period of time a single, monolithic evil place. Even in the worst places, there are still people who look out for people, and there are still ways for people to have hope or faith. Remember that it was during what we consider the European Dark Ages that Charlemagne instituted the first universities throughout France, that monks were recording the histories for posterity, and Vikings were rampaging…okay, so two out of three isn’t so bad.
2. Where one culture might collapse into dangerous and violent anarchy, another will flourish in a different part of the world, and they will eventually interact. In fact, one of the things that got Europe to become what we consider civilized was the fact that they took the learning from the Islamic world. Muslim scientists were researching medicine, astronomy, and optics at the same time that the bubonic plague was ravaging the world. No culture exists in a vacuum, and even if you’re creating an empire, you need to be aware of what exists around it.
3. What caused it, and what keeps it going? When you’re dealing with fantasy, there’s more than political upheaval and plagues that can cause a Dark Age. In the real world, it typically takes about a generation or two before someone really steps up and makes a new government, and maybe a few more generations before there’s stability, for better or ill. In a fantasy world, is there perhaps a dangerous sorcerer who is controlling the minds of the people with the added benefit of prolonging his life? Could it be that there’s a dark god who is keeping the world in, well, darkness? Is it a Dying Earth scenario, where the world used to be flourishing and plentiful, but has been so ruined by science or magic and is now a wasteland that would put Tatooine to shame?
4. No culture is one-dimensional. Even in a Dark Age of barbarians and despots, it needs to be fully realized. I know that this is similar to my second point, but it bears repeating. This is your setting, your world, and in many ways, your main character. It affects everything in whatever you put into the world, whether it’s a story, an RPG, or a collection of artwork. Creating a world is not simply writing a short story or a single painting. Think of the Dark Age of your world like a psychopathic or sociopathic character in your story. It’s so much more rich, believable, and realistic when you add the little touches, the hopes and dreams that exist among the darkness, even if you plan on dashing most of them.

My point is simply this: When you’re adding the concept of a Dark Age to your fantasy world, view it as a real, active culture, and don’t just turn it into a treatise on how your culture is the best.