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  1. More Light
    than Shadow?
    Jungian Approaches to Tolkien and the Archetypeal
    Image of the Shadow

    Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena
    (version 30
    April 2010)

    ‘In a hole in the ground
    there lived a somewhat retarded, orally fixated pre-adolescent who
    was almost pathological in his refusal to interact in a socially
    responsible way with the outer world. This is the story of how he
    overcame, with a little help from his psychologist, some of his
    neurotic compulsions.’

    This ‘Freudian’
    summary of The Hobbit
    is, of course, a blatant oversimplification, but it serves exactly
    because it highlights the salient points in an exaggerated fashion.
    Anyone inclined to pursue a Freudian line of inquiry any further
    would find a plethora of suitable items that lend themselves to an
    interpretation within such a framework. Bilbo, for example, acquires
    a phallic sword, which he does not hesitate to stick into hairy
    spiders when the occasion arises … The reader soon realises, after
    the first shock of outrage and/or amusement (depending on one’s
    disposition), that such a popular ‘pseudo-Freudian’ analysis of
    Tolkien’s work is based on a misconception of both Freud’s
    original intentions and of Tolkien’s literary work. Freud’s
    approach is primarily a method used to treat real-life patients with
    psychological problems. Nevertheless, Freudian methods and concepts
    can be and have been applied to literary texts<sup>1</sup>and their protagonists in order to shed some light on some of the
    underlying issues or, indirectly, on the psychological setup of the
    author. Yet, as C.S. Lewis has pointed out some time ago, the latter
    does not really constitute literary criticism.<sup>2</sup>Furthermore,
    an analysis of the literary protagonists presupposes a certain degree
    of psychological realism – and here Tolkien refuses to co-operate.
    Bilbo and Frodo are the most ‘modern’ characters (see Shippey
    2000:7) in both The Hobbit
    and The Lord of the Rings
    and might thus be successfully subjected to a Freudian analysis.
    However, most protagonists are simply lacking the minimal
    requirements needed for a meaningful discussion within a Freudian
    framework – as Peter Jackson’s treatment of Aragorn illustrates.
    Tolkien’s Aragorn changes and develops merely in the way he
    presents himself to the world – from Strider to Aragorn, son of
    Arathorn, to King Elessar. The basic ‘psychological’ setup (if we
    are to use this rather ill-fitting category) does not change (see
    Veugen 2005) and Aragorn is, in my view, an intentionally ‘flat’
    character. Jackson obviously felt uncomfortable with presenting such
    a protagonist. He therefore changed him into a ‘modern’ character
    haunted by self-doubts and insecurities which he is finally able to
    overcome, and this way re-shaped Aragorn into a protagonist with whom
    the audience can identify.<sup>3</sup>As a result, Jackson’s Aragorn is psychologically more realistic
    and appealing to modern readers, and, in contrast to Tolkien’s
    protagonist, it makes sense to discuss his development within a
    psychological framework. Thus, a (Freudian) psychological analysis of
    Tolkien’s literary protagonists is either bound to be pointless in
    most cases or, if it were to be meaningful, requires a re-writing of
    the text – neither of which makes sense to me.

    There are, of
    course, other approaches based on the theories of Freud and other
    psychologists. We have, on the one hand, post-Freudian (literary)<sup>4</sup>critics such as Jacques Lacan, whose ideas and theories have proven
    highly attractive to literary scholars. Applications of their ideas
    on Tolkien’s work are rare, though not impossible (see Nagy 2006),
    and they yield ‘meaningful’ results. On the other hand, we have a
    number of literary critics who look at Tolkien’s writings in a
    Jungian light, and it is their approach that I am going to discuss in
    greater depth in this paper.<sup>5</sup>The
    immediate motivation for such an investigation comes from the
    publication of two books. The first one is Skogemann’s
    interpretation of The Lord of the Rings
    within a Jungian framework. It was originally published in Danish in
    2004 and has become available in English translation in 2009. The
    second is the Red Book
    (Das Rote
    , originally entitled Liber
    ), a facsimile edition (with
    transcription/translation of the handwritten text) of Jung’s notes
    on his dreams and visions, which he started to write down in this
    folio-sized, illuminated volume from 1913/14 onwards. The fact that
    both Tolkien and Jung wrote ‘Red Books’ and that both shared a
    kind of ‘Great Wave Dream’, struck me as noteworthy.<sup>6</sup>These events may not constitute an example of pure synchronicity,<sup>7</sup>yet they intrigued me sufficiently to take up once more the thread of
    a possible ‘Jungian’ connection in Tolkien’s work. I had first
    come across concrete evidence for Tolkien’s acquaintance with
    Jung’s concept while working on the Professor’s academic papers
    in the Bodleian in Summer 2006. Two references to Jung are to be
    found on a single sheet of paper among his notes for the lecture ‘On
    Fairy-stories’ (Bodleian Tolkien MS. 14, Folio 55 recto; facsimile
    in Tolkien 2008:170), consisting of the single name ‘Jung’ in a
    list of authors and scholars to be mentioned, and the note ‘Jung
    Psych of the unconscious’ on the same page (see also Tolkien
    2008:129). What Tolkien thought about Jung and his theories is,
    however, not known. In the end, he did not comment on Jung in his
    ‘Fairy-stories’ lecture. Neither do his published letters and
    other writings make any direct reference to Jung’s ideas and
    theories, even though other members of the Inklings, notably C.S.
    Lewis and Owen Barfield, were acquainted with Jung’s writings.<sup>8</sup>We can only speculate about why Tolkien seems to have avoided any
    direct and prolonged examination of Jung’s ideas. In the case of
    Freud we may blame a temperamental incompatibility for Tolkien’s
    dislike of psychological (and especially psycho-sexual)
    interpretations, yet with Jung the opposite is more likely: the two
    were drawing water from the same enchanted well. This might very well
    be the reason why he instinctively tried to keep a certain distance.
    Tolkien, if we are to believe his retrospective account of the (often
    nocturnal) writing process, was guided and inspired largely by his
    ‘unconscious’<sup>9</sup>– and images and concepts that originated in the ‘collective
    unconscious’.<sup>10</sup>The emergence and development of Strider/Aragorn, one of the most
    ‘archetypal’ human figures in The
    Lord of the Rings
    , is a good example,
    as is the slow unravelling of the true identity of Bilbo’s ring as
    the Ring.<sup>11</sup>This creative symbiotic communication between Tolkien’s unconscious
    layers and his writer-persona might have been severely disturbed if
    he had started to investigate the underlying processes and impulses.<sup>12</sup>Tolkien’s stories and tales might have, in the end, helped him to
    come to terms with some of his ‘unresolved’ psychological issues
    and brought him forward on the path of individuation, yet there is
    the very acute danger that they would, at the same time, lose their
    primary status as works of literary art.<sup>13</sup>The Legendarium, as a consequence, would have become merely a
    personal (though rather extensive) footnote in the history of Jungian
    analysis. We can therefore be grateful that Tolkien refrained from
    using his tales and stories as ‘therapeutic tools’ and treated
    them as works of art, polishing, refining and, in the end, sharing
    them with a wider audience. Thus they have lost some of their
    immediate personal relevance yet, in return, gained greatly in
    general importance and fulfil one of the functions of art, which
    Jung, in an essay written in 1922 (quoted in Walker 2002:100-101),
    defined as “educating the spirit of the age, conjuring up forms in
    which the age is most lacking. The unsatisfied yearning of the artist
    reaches back to the primordial image in the unconscious which is best
    fitted to compensate the inadequacy and one-sidedness of the

    I have briefly touched
    upon the dangers of ‘Freudian’ literary criticism, which focuses
    almost entirely on the linguistic dimension of the text and on its
    personal relevance for the author’s psyche. Jungian criticism, by
    contrast, privileges the psyche’s imagery and its archetypal
    relevance. It avoids the ‘Freudian’ pitfalls, yet is not entirely
    devoid of other weaknesses. Steve Walker, a professor of comparative
    literature, summarizes the dangers of Jungian literary criticism as

    In the eyes of its detractors, Jungian criticism
    may fail to draw a clear enough distinction between intrapsychic
    imagery and aesthetic imagery. Intrapsychic imagery is a spontaneous
    product of the unconscious. Aesthetic imagery, for all the analogies
    it presents to intrapsychic imagery, is a product of literary
    tradition and conscious literary elaboration. To put the criticism
    bluntly: a literary text is not an archetypal dream and should not be
    interpreted as though it were one.
    (Walker 2002:145-146)

    It cannot be the
    function of psychological literary criticism to provide a
    psychoanalytical discussion of the author’s or the protagonist’s
    psyche, but like all other literary criticism, it “must meet a
    criterion of usefulness. It must enrich the understanding of a text
    and increase the fund of perceptions associated with our reading. […]
    Reductive interpretation may be useful in discussions of
    psychological matters, but it does not make for good literary
    criticism. A literary critic’s first duty is to the text” (Walker
    2002:148). Furthermore, a “psychological reading of the text does
    not, however, displace other readings; rather, it enriches the
    interpretation of the text in unexpected and original ways” (Walker
    2002:146). If O’Neill’s (1979:16) characterisation of Tolkien’s
    work as “probably the clearest repository of Jungian themes in
    recent literature” is correct, then we can expect some results from
    a Jungian analysis. In the following paragraph I will briefly survey
    in how far Jungian criticism of Tolkien’s work lives up to these

    I would like to
    start with the most recent monograph, Pia Skogemann’s 2009 Where
    the Shadows Lie
    . It is written in an
    almost jargon-free, easily understandable English – almost too
    ‘easy’ for my taste, yet maybe perfect for the main (American)
    target readership. Although Skogemann introduces and explains the
    main critical terms (archetype, archetypal image), she does not place
    her approach into the larger framework of Jungian studies. The book
    more or less retells the story of the central characters and provides
    ‘psychological notes’ and explanations. We learn that the four
    hobbits (Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin) represent the four
    psychological functions (thinking, feeling, sensation, and intuition
    respectively), that Tom Bombadil is a trickster figure and Goldberry
    a typical anima figure, and that Boromir is the shadow to Aragorn the
    hero figure etc. The interpretations proposed by Skogemann are,
    within a Jungian framework, understandable and easy to follow, but
    the ‘net profit’ from reading the 200-odd pages is very slim
    indeed. Too much of the text consists of a simple re-telling of the
    story and the actual critical analysis often takes up only a fraction
    of the space and does not penetrate deeply enough. I could not help
    getting the impression that the book is aimed mainly at Jungians who
    have not read The Lord of the Rings
    yet who want to know more about the occurrence of archetypal images
    in this popular work. Furthermore, there are no references to
    secondary sources within the text (a short bibliography at the end
    lists the most important studies referred to) and only a meagre
    handful of studies on Tolkien have been used. This lack of
    Tolkien-expertise – and simple care – is also reflected in the
    fact that some of the Danish names have not been ‘backtranslated’<sup>14</sup>or that Skogemann (resp. her translator), when discussing the
    function of fairy stories according to Tolkien, talks about
    ‘escapism’ instead of, correctly, ‘escape’ (Skogemann
    2009:1). Where the Shadows Lie
    is, therefore, an example of a rather mechanistic and limited
    ‘application’ of a Jungian grid to The
    Lord of the Rings
    and Skogemann fails
    to put her findings into a wider (literary) critical context. The
    analysis remains reductive, merely illustrating the truth that
    complex literary texts are more than archetypal patterns.

    As a consequence,
    Timothy R. O’Neill’s 1979 study The
    Individuated Hobbit: Jung, Tolkien and the Archetypes of Middle-earth

    still remains the unsurpassed standard work on the topic. O’Neill
    first provides a brief yet clear and succinct introduction to the
    main theories in the study of the human mind (notably behaviourism,
    psychodynamic theories, and humanism) before discussing and placing
    Jung’s approach within the field. He then attempts (competently, as
    I think) an outline of the Jungian theoretical framework and gives
    definitions of the key-terms such as ‘archetype’,<sup>15</sup>‘anima’,<sup>16</sup>‘shadow’,<sup>17</sup>‘(collective) unconscious’, ‘individuation’,<sup>18</sup>etc. with definitions – in contrast to Skogemann, who merely
    provides a link to a website where the reader may find further
    information. O’Neill (1979:153) is also very much aware of the
    limitations of a ‘Jungian reading’ and writes: “The point of
    this book has not been that The Lord of
    the Rings
    is about Self-realization.
    […] It would be unfair (and, I think, inaccurate) to suggest that
    Professor Tolkien was trying to teach us a lesson about theory and
    construct in analytical psychology, nor yet to present an allegory, a
    sort of psychological Pilgrim’s
    .” He (1979:xiv) merely hopes
    that his study “will deepen the effect of the story, make its
    message more lucid and personal.” And this he accomplishes beyond
    any doubt – not least since he does not limit his analysis to the
    ‘epic-novelistic’ The Lord of the
    , but puts a major focus on the
    ‘mythical’ narratives of The
    (1977). Myths, next to
    ‘archetypal dreams’, are the best gateways to the collective
    unconscious. They are, as Walker (2002:19) argues, “narrative
    elaborations of archetypal images (the conscious representations of
    the unconscious instincts) [that in turn are representations of
    archetypes, i.e.] imprinted patterns of behavior left behind by
    untold ages of human evolution.<sup>19</sup>Seen from this perspective, myths are culturally elaborated
    ‘representations of situations.’ They enable us to re-experience
    consciously the unconscious instinctual processes of the psyche.”O’Neill’s
    analysis, in contrast to Skogemann’s, succeeds mainly because he
    wisely decides to discuss The Lord of
    the Rings
    within the ‘mythical
    framework’ established by The
    . This means highlighting
    elements and aspects that are, from a ‘conventional’ literary
    critic’s point of view, marginal. Thus, the exact relationship
    between Elrond Half-elven and his mortal brother Elros, first king of
    Númenor, and his descendants is, from a narratological point
    of view, of minor importance. Within a Jungian framework, however, it
    acquires prime significance so that, as O’Neill (1979:129-152)
    illustrates, the marriage between Aragorn Elessar, the descendant of
    Elros, and Arwen Undomíel, daughter of Elrond, comes to
    signify the achievement of the Individuation of the West. As a
    consequence, The Individuated Hobbit
    provides not so much a discussion of the literary qualities of The
    Lord of the Rings
    but explores and
    discloses its mythic and, by implication, archetypal dimension. It
    therefore does not displace other readings but rather “enriches the
    interpretation of the text in unexpected and original ways” (Walker

    There exists, to my
    knowledge, only one paper on Tolkien and Jung that was published in a
    generally accessible form before O’Neill’s study appeared in
    1979.<sup>20</sup>This is Dorothy Matthews’s ‘The Psychological Journey of Bilbo
    Baggins’, which appeared in Jared Lobdell’s A
    Tolkien Compass
    (1975; reprinted in the
    2003 edition of the same book). Matthews starts out with very general
    parallels between traditional fairy tales, The
    and other children’s
    literature classics (Alice’s
    Adventures in Wonderland
    , The
    Wind in the Willows
    , Peter
    ) – parallels such as ‘falling
    into a hole’ etc. Interestingly, Matthews also argues for seeing
    Freudian symbolism in the naming of the swords (phallus, coming to
    manhood) and in passing makes reference to a plethora of sexual
    symbols such as locks, keys, caves, cups, chalices etc. Luckily, she
    leaves it at that and does not pursue this ‘Freudian’ approach
    any further, but continues with identifying monsters and adversaries
    as externalizations of psychic phenomena and Bilbo’s journey as a
    metaphor for the process of individuation. The hobbit has to leave
    the Shire, where his masculinity has been suppressed, in order to
    find a new balance between his male and female sides. The ‘usual
    suspects’ in matters of archetypal images also make an appearance:
    Gandalf as a personification of the archetypal image of the Wise Old
    Man, Gollum (more debatably) as that of the Devouring Mother and,
    finally, the Ring as the archetypal image of the Self. Matthews also
    makes a few good and original points, e.g. when she interprets the
    spiders of Mirkwood attacking Bilbo as psychic fixations that have to
    be resisted, or that Smaug is not killed by Bilbo since Tolkien wants
    him to remain ‘Everyman’ and therefore prevents him from passing
    into the epic hero category. This point illustrates how
    psychoanalytical criticism can contribute successfully to a deeper
    understanding of structural-narratological points.On
    the whole, Matthews’s paper is a good example
    of the strength and weaknesses of the Jungian approach, which is why
    I have given her so much space. Her discussion illustrates, on the
    one hand, that the application of Jungian categories can provide some
    new insights and, especially, is able to highlight those ‘archetypal
    motifs’ that The Hobbit
    shares with folk tales and fairy stories. On the other hand, it
    (unwittingly) brings to the fore some of the more problematic aspects
    of Jungian literary criticism. The most obvious danger, in my view,
    consists in the critic’s ‘uncritical’ identification of
    archetypal images and motifs. I would like to discuss this by means
    of three slightly differing examples: the Ring as the archetypal
    image of the Self, Gandalf as the embodiment of the archetypal image
    of the Wise Old Man, and the question of who or what represents the
    (or a) Shadow.
    Rings, just like
    jewels, often symbolise the archetypal image of the Self. Yet whereas
    jewels occur quite frequently as obvious symbols of the Self in the
    Tolkien’s writings,<sup>21</sup>rings are a bit more problematic in the context of his universe.
    Melkor coveted and stole the Silmarils, but neither he nor any of the
    other Valar has ever been able to create anything like the Silmarils
    (read: to attain Selfhood). They are the product of elvish craft
    working in harmony with the divine light of inspiration. Rings, by
    contrast, seem associated less with inspiration and divine light than
    with enslavement and power. Jung has noted that rings often function
    as embodiments of the archetypal image of the Self because of their
    perfect round shapes, which stand for the ‘wholeness’ and
    self-sufficiency of the Self. Most of Tolkien’s rings, and
    especially the Ring, have a different meaning and it takes a good
    deal of blindness towards the narrative context to equate the Ring
    with the Jungian symbol for the Self – as Matthews (2003:32)
    does.<sup>22</sup>One is tempted to repeat Tolkien’s famous dictum concerning the
    relationship between ‘his’ ring and Wagner’s Ring
    of the Nibelungs
    : ‘Both rings were
    round, and there the resemblance ceases.’ The same is very much
    true for ‘Jungian rings’ in Tolkien’s work. The lesson to be
    learnt from such blatant misidentifications is clear: Jungian
    archetypal images are universal, but the symbols representing them
    are not. Rings may symbolise the Self – or they may not. It
    depends, as so often, on the context and the author, and a
    responsible critic must crosscheck his or her interpretation of the
    symbols against the actual textual evidence; otherwise we are running
    the grave danger that everything becomes everything.<sup>23</sup>Let us now turn to Gandalf as my second example.
    The wizard, as most
    Jungian critics agree, exhibits the typical traits of the Wise Old
    Man archetypal image, both in his outward appearance and in his
    behaviour. Indeed, Gandalf would be an ideal choice if one were asked
    by someone unfamiliar with Jung’s ideas to provide a typical
    example of this archetypal image; to try and expound the similarities
    between the Wise Old Man and Gandalf is likely to produce tautologies
    – Gandalf is
    the Wise Old Man, and the Wise Old Man is Gandalf.<sup>24</sup>However, Gandalf is not only
    the Wise Old Man archetypal image! It would be more accurate to
    describe him as the one protagonist in The
    Lord of the Rings
    (and The
    ) who comes closest to the
    archetypal image, that it is so prominent in him that we are sorely
    tempted to disregard all the other traits and see him solely as the
    Wise Old Man. Yet, literary critics must not yield to such a
    temptation – their duty is first and foremost to the text, which
    presents us, in this and in most other cases, a literary character
    that is more than an archetypal image. It is Gandalf, the literary
    character, who undergoes the process of individuation, who ‘meets’
    his Shadow in form of the Balrog of Moria, confronts and
    ‘incorporates’ it so that he is able to return as Gandalf the

    The archetypal
    image of the Shadow just mentioned is one of the most central and, in
    Jung’s own view, one of the most important archetypes.<sup>25</sup>It contains the repressed
    weaknesses, shortcomings, and socially not acceptable (primitive)
    instincts and impulses. Jung describes his first encounter with his
    personal Shadow in a dream as follows:

    It was night in some unknown place, and I was making slow and painful
    headway against a mighty wind. Dense fog was lying along everywhere.
    I had my hands cupped around a tiny light which threatened to go out
    at any moment. Everything depended on my keeping this little light
    alive. Suddenly I had the feeling that something was coming up behind
    me. I looked back and saw a gigantic black figure following me. But
    at the same moment I was conscious, in spite of my terror, that I
    must keep my little light going through night and wind, regardless of
    all dangers. (Jung quoted in O’Neill 1979:27)
    Jung awoke with the
    realization that the dark follower was nothing more than his own
    shadow cast on the mist by the flickering candle and interpreted it
    as the archetypal image of his personal Shadow, whereas the candle
    represents the light of consciousness. Coming to terms with one’s
    Shadow is one of the most crucial tasks in the process of
    individuation and Shadow figures play a prominent role in literature<sup>26</sup>– which is why critics have been ready to identify ‘Shadow
    figures’ in Tolkien’s work. They often make only a brief yet
    crucial appearance, such as the Balrog of Moria or the Oathbreakers
    on the Paths of the Dead. Tolkien presents
    the latter as a shadowy mass, and it is only in Peter Jackson’s
    interpretation that the Shadow becomes more personal by means of the
    confrontation between Aragorn Elessar and the nameless King of the
    Dead. This is part of the aforementioned ‘psychologisation’ of
    Aragorn in the movies and fits the Jungian pattern of individuation
    nicely. The identification of additional Shadow figures is more
    controversial, not least since most of them are autonomous characters
    and no mere spectres or ‘demons’. Nevertheless, several critics
    have pointed out that many of the protagonists in The
    Lord of the Rings
    possess a kind of
    ‘shadow figure counterpart’: Frodo vs. Gollum, Théoden vs.
    Denethor, Aragorn vs. Boromir, Gandalf vs. Saruman, Sam vs. Ted
    Sandyman, Tom Bombadil vs. the Barrow-wight, Galadriel vs. Shelob
    etc. Of those, only the pairing of Frodo and Gollum as his ‘dark
    alter ego’ is undisputed and alternative groupings have been
    offered for some of the other characters, such as Aragorn vs. the
    Ringwraiths (Grant 1981/2004:97/174) or Aragorn vs. Denethor
    (Kotowski 1992:149).<sup>27</sup>The listed examples give a good idea of how vaguely the term ‘shadow’
    is used. None of these ‘shadowy figures’ could possibly be
    identified with the Jungian Shadow proper, even though all of them
    contain (to varying degrees) some shadow energy, i.e. aspects of the
    Jungian Shadow.Let
    me illustrate this point by means of Gollum, whom I see as ‘Frodo
    gone wrong’ rather than as his personal Shadow. Gollum, when we
    first meet him, represents a person who has been taken over by his
    Shadow, but whose former self (Sméagol = Stinker) is still
    around and able to re-establish itself, at least temporarily, under
    favourable circumstances. He is thus obviously an autonomous
    character with individual personal traits and no mere archetypal
    image.<sup>28</sup>The same applies more or less to all the other figures.<sup>29</sup>Galadriel, for instance, is clearly a personification of the
    benevolent side of the Anima, and as such structurally related to the
    White Goddess and her ‘Christian’ personification, the Virgin
    Mary.<sup>30</sup>Yet even so she still possesses her ‘threatening side’, as
    becomes evident in Frodo’s vision of the elven queen as “tall
    beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and
    worshipful” (LotR
    366). Gollum and Frodo, looked at from a distance, come close to
    being ‘Ego’ and ‘Shadow’, but they are always more than that.
    This is born out by the climactic confrontation at the Sammath Naur
    on Mount Doom. Gollum bites off Frodo’s finger with the Ring on it,
    slips and falls into the Fire below, where both Gollum and the Ring
    are destroyed. Critics interpret this dramatic event different ways.
    Kotowski (1992:149), for example, argues that the destruction of evil
    and the lack of a happy ending for Frodo illustrate how Jungian
    Tolkien’s thinking is. Frodo has failed to ‘integrate’ his
    Shadow (i.e. Gollum) and the resulting fits of depression are the
    consequences of a miscarried individuation and the loss of an
    important part of his personality. Such an interpretation makes sense
    only as long as one does not stick to the text too closely. In my
    view, it is Frodo’s actual personal Shadow that has finally taken
    possession of him when he claimed the Ring by putting it on his
    finger.<sup>31</sup>Gollum has been and remains an external agent, linked to Frodo
    through their shared experiences and their special relationship. He
    ‘rescues’ Frodo from the dominance of his Shadow, and in doing so
    he cripples him physically as well as psychologically.<sup>32</sup>Flieger’s comment on the passage is also of interest. Frodo’s
    battle, she argues, is thus “not against darkness without but
    against darkness within” (Flieger 1981/2004:59/144). She continues:

    It is characteristic of Tolkien, however, that he does not end on
    this note [i.e. with Frodo defeated, as Beowulf is]. Frodo loses, but
    in losing he wins a greater victory. The climax is designed to show
    that just as surely as Frodo’s action is inevitable, so is
    Gollum’s. Frodo will put on the Ring, and Gollum will be driven to
    seize it. In so doing he saves Frodo and destroys the Ring. Frodo’s
    dark side, externalized as Gollum, destroys the actual dark within
    him, and the maddened Gollum, exulting in possession, falls with the
    Ring into the fire. Evil destroys itself.
    The problem here is that
    Flieger mixes categories. She no longer sticks to a purely Jungian
    framework but introduces ‘moral’ categories, so that we end up
    with a ‘Manichean’ dichotomy. The Shadow, a non-moralistic
    category in Jung, is turned into the moral-religious category ‘evil’,
    which cannot, of course, be ‘incorporated’ but must be vanquished
    and, if possible, destroyed. By doing so she is probably closer to
    Tolkien’s original intention than a purely Jungian interpretation,
    but the analysis is not without internal contradictions.Tucev
    (2005), as the most recent critic<sup>33</sup>to comment on the climactic confrontation between Frodo and Gollum,
    argues for making the important distinction between Gollum as the
    embodiment of the power shadow and Sméagol, the ‘gold in the
    dark side’, who becomes Frodo’s ally. Her interpretation of
    events follows Robert Bly’s concept of the five stages in the
    development of one’s relationship with the shadow. In the fifth and
    final stage, “we attempt to retrieve or, as Bly poetically puts it,
    to eat our shadow. At the physical plane, it looks as if Gollum has
    eaten Frodo’s finger; at the inner plane, it is actually Frodo who
    has eaten his shadow, so that its outer manifestation no longer needs
    to exist and therefore disappears in the chasm” (Tucev 2005:103).
    The result is a sadder but also wiser Frodo.The
    text supports Tucev’s analysis as far as it goes, yet I’m not
    sure whether Frodo could be considered an example of a successful
    individuation – the confrontations with the various Shadow figures
    (Ringwraiths, Shelob, Gollum) have left him not only a wiser and
    sadder man, but also maimed and no longer at ease within this world.

    As the discussion of
    these studies has shown, literary critics using a Jungian approach
    often run into self-contradictions and problems as soon as they
    neglect to differentiate between archetypal images, moral-religious
    categories, and literary characters or protagonists. The latter may
    very well participate in the process of individuation or can be
    assessed within a moral framework, whereas an archetypal image
    constitutes a non-moral and a-personal category.<sup>34</sup>Literary critics – or Jungian psychoanalysts working in the field –
    must take care to distinguish clearly between these levels. At the
    same time it is absolutely necessary to relate the results of an
    analysis of the archetypal images and motifs to the larger literary
    framework of the story, which includes protagonists, plot, and
    ethics. It is simply not enough to demonstrate that, for example,
    Gandalf is a personification of the Wise Old Man. The identification
    of archetypal images and motifs is a necessary first task to be done
    in the analysis of a text. In a next step, the results have to be
    made relevant for the discussion of the aesthetic, ethical and
    literary dimension of the work – and this is where most critics
    falter. Skogemann’s study is a good example and represents, to my
    mind, a failure because she has not related her ‘psychoanalytical
    (Jungian) reading’ to the literary dimension of The
    Lord of the Rings
    . Even O’Neill does
    not do so; but in his case this is due to the conscious decision to
    focus on the mythical dimension of Tolkien’s fiction. His book is
    primarily concerned with uncovering the overall mythical structure of
    the Professor’s work, to place the more ‘novelistic-epic’
    narratives within the overarching and larger context of the
    Legendarium and, thus, to contribute to a deeper understanding of the
    creative ‘mythopoetic’ impulse. His ‘reading’ does not
    replace or make redundant – or even pretend to be – a literary
    critical analysis but is best seen as an enriching, complementary

    There is undoubtedly
    something in Tolkien’s work that invites a reading within a Jungian
    framework and most of his writings have a distinct ‘mythic’
    quality, as can be most clearly perceived in The
    . The
    and The
    Lord of the Rings
    , too, partake in this
    ‘mythic discourse’, although to a somewhat lesser degree. Many of
    his protagonists are closer to the ‘flat’ characters of myths or
    fairy stories, which Jungians consider reflections of the collective
    unconscious. As a consequence, the ‘novelistic veneer’ on most of
    Tolkien’s figures is very thin indeed, and the archetypal image –
    or its archetypal component – is often so close to the surface that
    it is shining through. It is therefore tempting to forget that one is
    not dealing with a myth per se,
    but with a consciously and artistically elaborated piece of fiction.<sup>35</sup>Of course, Tolkien would have been exceedingly pleased by the
    ‘mythic’ effect, interpreting it as proof for the efficacy of his
    little scheme of passing off his writings as ‘editions and
    translations’.Why, then, do
    critics often stop as soon as they have identified the archetypal
    images. For many of them, the simple identification of Jungian
    archetypal images is
    the answer indeed – often forgetting to tell us the initial
    question, which must be something like ‘Why does The
    Lord of the Rings
    have such an
    overwhelming emotional impact on me and on others?’This
    ‘emotional response problem’ is not, unfortunately, limited to
    the Jungian approach and has hampered the development of Tolkien
    criticism for decades. It is one thing to like a book, but another to
    analyse and assess it as a piece of literature. One may discover that
    one does not like a book of undoubted literary quality, whereas one
    responds enthusiastically to a trashy novel (the reverse is, of
    course, as likely). The Lord of the
    especially seems to have ‘spoken’
    to many of its readers via its archetypal images and motifs and
    elicited, as is to be expected from archetypal images, a strong
    emotional response. This emotional response has baffled many critical
    readers, not least since they are aware that this effect cannot be
    explained by style, plot-structure or other ‘conventional’
    literary categories – and instigated an investigation into the
    origins of this phenomenon. However, emotional involvement and its
    explanation do not constitute legitimate literary criticism. They may
    have a place in reader-response studies, but they should not make up
    the end-point of a literary analysis. Unfortunately, a great part of
    ‘Tolkien criticism’ seems to have its origin in the
    understandable desire to prove that the book so ardently loved is
    also a ‘good’ book in a literary sense,<sup>36</sup>and ‘literary criticism’ becomes another way of exploring the
    reader’s psyche.

    I have taken
    Matthews’s paper as an early (flawed) example to discuss some of
    the problems and challenges posed by a psychoanalytical approach, and
    we may expect matters to improve with time. This has been,
    unfortunately, not the case. As mentioned, O’Neill’s monograph of
    1979 constitutes a major landmark in the uncovering of the
    Legendarium’s mythical-archetypal structure. After that, only a
    handful of papers on the topic have been published. Most of them
    focus on clearly limited aspects of Tolkien’s fictional output and
    although the findings often constitute valuable additions to our
    growing knowledge about the Professor’s work and contribute to a
    better understanding of the texts, they seem to have made
    (comparatively speaking) little impact on the overall development in
    the field. I see three reasons for this. Firstly, literary criticism
    within a Jungian framework has a long tradition (going back to Jung
    himself), but it never became as widespread or influential as its
    ‘Freudian’ counterpart.<sup>37</sup>Secondly, scholars working in this tradition seem blissfully ignorant
    of their predecessors’ work and, thus, prone to begin their
    analysis each time from scratch. Of all the scholars known to me,
    only Skogemann makes a reference to a predecessor.<sup>38</sup>As a consequence, we lack the critical dialogue that is necessary for
    the establishment of a tradition. Thirdly, many of the scholars
    working with a Jungian approach seem to be not very conversant with
    the state of the art in Tolkien criticism, to say the least, and even
    their grasp of the primary texts of the Legendarium is sometimes
    doubtful.<sup>39</sup>This is, of course, detrimental to their work and lessens their
    impact considerably. What we need are competent Tolkien scholars who
    study Jung’s ideas and use them in their discussion of the
    Professor’s work rather than Jungians sauntering for a brief spell
    into the field of Tolkien studies.

    My discussion of
    Tolkien’s work within a Jungian framework may have given the
    impression that I am somewhat critical of such an approach. In truth,
    my critical stance is the result of disappointment rather than basic
    opposition. Jungian literary criticism is, in my opinion, a method
    very well suited for the exploration of the psychological dimension
    of Tolkien’s fiction. The Professor has obviously succeeded in
    creating a work of art rooted in the Western tradition that ‘speaks’
    to millions of readers, and a Jungian approach can give a reason for
    this success, namely that The Lord of
    the Rings
    constitutes a compensatory
    set of archetypal images that our age and culture requires for
    greater balance.<sup>40</sup><sup></sup>Yet,
    the ‘congeniality’ of the Jungian framework also harbours some
    grave dangers – as the preceding review has shown. To wit, it is
    not always easy to talk meaningfully about the mythical structures
    and elements by means of equally ‘mythical’ language and images,
    as habitually used in Jungian criticism. The subject of the analysis
    becomes too easily confused with the concepts and terminology of what
    should be the meta-language; the ‘critical’ distance between
    ‘theory’ and ‘object’ is often dangerously small and causes
    scholars to confuse and mix the two levels. To make matters worse,
    Tolkien’s protagonists often oscillate between mythical archetypal
    images and ‘flat novelistic characters’ – a phenomenon which,
    of course, invites such a confusion of levels. Although the effect on
    the critics is deplorable, it is this ‘hybridisation’ of
    archetypal characteristics and ‘realism’ (lacking a better term
    to describe the ‘realist traits’) that contributes to the
    fascination of Tolkien’s work. Future studies must build on the
    works of past critics and, as some have already attempted, go beyond
    the mere identification of archetypal images and motifs and explore
    the complex relationship between archetypal elements and their
    literary presentation and functions in Tolkien’s work. The
    situation in the field is comparable to the one in ‘medieval source
    studies’ some decades ago; it took some time until critics left the
    positivistic approach of merely listing the sources, parallels and
    analogues behind and dared to tread upon new critical ground.Jungian readings have to
    offer more than ‘In a hole in the ground there lived a halfling
    who, together with some helper-figures, became a wiser and
    individuated hobbit’ – even though such a reading is not


    Most prominently by Freud himself, e.g. in his essay ‘The Uncanny’
    (1919) where he discusses E.T.A. Hoffmann’s tale ‘The Sandman’.
    See also Freud’s discussions of works by Shakespeare, Goethe, and
    Dostoevsky in Das
    Unheimliche. Aufsätze zur Literatur

    See Walker (2002:145), who comments: “Such reductive criticism
    attempted to explain the text primarily in terms of the author’s
    psychobiography.” See also Vladimir Nabokov’s numerous and
    forceful attacks against the ‘Viennese witch doctor’.

    See Flieger’s perceptive remark on Aragorn: “We are not like
    him, and we know it. We admire him, but we do not identify with
    him.” (Flieger 1981/2004:41/124)

    Many of these are no literary critics per se, nor are their versions
    and theories primarily intended for literary criticism (pace Lacan).
    Nevertheless, literary critics use their theories, whatever their
    original intention was.

    I will limit my discussion to Jungian approaches proper and
    disregard studies that use related (yet differing) theories, such as
    Anne C. Petty’s books that make use of Joseph Campbell’s ideas.
    I have also disregarded books like the one by Schwarz (2003), who
    simply cannot be taken seriously.

    Jung’s dream-vision of
    Europe being inundated by a great flood occurred in October 1913
    (see Jung 2009b:196) and could be interpreted as a foreshadowing of
    WW I. Tolkien mentions his dream of the “ineluctable Wave” in
    Letter 257 (Tolkien 1981:347).

    Synchronicity is
    defined as the experience
    of two or more events
    that are apparently <a href="" target="_blank">causally
    unrelated</a>, yet that occur together in a meaningful

    See especially Lewis (1969) and Barfield (1988:133-141). See also
    Grant (1981/2004:89/165).

    I use the term in a Jungian sense of the word. For a discussion of
    the structure of the psyche according to Jung, see Jacobi

    “The collective
    unconsciousness, being the repository of man’s experience and at
    the same time the prior condition of this experience, is an image of
    the world which has taken aeons to form. In this image certain
    features, the archetypes or dominants, have crystallized out in the
    course of time. They are the ruling powers, the gods, images of the
    dominant laws and principles, and of typical, regularly occurring
    events in the soul’s cycle of experience.” (Jung quoted in
    Walker 2002:10).

    Bilbo’s ring was, in the
    first-edition text of The
    , merely a
    magic ring. Its re-conceptualisation as the one Ring led to the
    alterations in the text as found in the second and subsequent
    editions of The
    . See
    Anderson (2002, especially 128-136).

    Exploring the unconscious is no trifling matter. Jung (2009b:199) is
    very clear about the risks involved, and Tolkien’s comments
    (voiced via his ‘spokesperson’ Ramer in ‘The Notion Club
    Papers’) on the dangers of myths read almost like a description of
    archetypes gone wild: “I don’t think any of us realize the
    force, the daimonic force that the great myths and legends have.
    [...] from the multiplication of them in many minds – and each
    mind, mark you, an engine of obscured but unmeasured energy. They
    are like an explosive: it may slowly yield a steady warmth to living
    minds, but if suddenly detonated, it might go off with a crash: yes:
    might produce a disturbance in the real primary world. / […] we
    may have all been helping to stir something up. If not out of
    history, at any rate out of a very powerful world of imagination and
    memory. [...] perhaps of both.” (Sauron
    See also Bachmann and Honegger (2005) for a detailed discussion of
    the historical context of this passage.

    Jung (2009b:206-207) discusses the question whether his ‘fantasies’
    constitute ‘art’, as his ‘Anima’ is suggesting, and reaches
    the conclusion that they are not to be considered ‘art’.

    Thus, we find ‘Torben’
    (p. 36) for English Ted Sandyman, and ‘Dysterharge’ (p. 114) for
    English Dunharrow.

    I give Walker’s (2002)
    definitions since they are, to my mind, both concise and accessible
    to the layperson. Archetype “designates an unconscious and
    unrepresentable element of the instinctual structure of the human
    psyche, and the more proper term to use for one of the pictures of
    an archetype that the human mind is capable of representing is
    archetypal image.
    […] From the treasure house of archetypal images are drawn the
    elements, the archetypal
    , of
    mythology” (Walker 2002:4). “There are as many archetypes as
    there are “normal human situations” and relationships over which
    they preside, from getting into a fight […] to falling in love
    like Romeo and Juliet. […] The list of archetypes is nearly
    endless.” (Walker 2002:10).

    “The anima, the archetype
    of the feminine, [… is the] psychic representation of the sexual
    instinct [in man]” and compensates for man’s conscious
    masculinity (Walker 2002:41).

    The Shadow is part
    of the <a href=";nscious_mind" target="_blank">unconscious
    mind</a>, consisting of repressed
    weaknesses, shortcomings, and instincts. It may be (in part) one’s
    link to more primitive animal instincts, which are superseded during
    early childhood by the conscious mind.

    “In individuation the
    individual integrates, at least to some degree, the inner world of
    split-off personalities based on unconscious identifications,
    withdraws projections, and realizes to some extent the archetype of
    the Self, the foundation for the secure sense of self-identity.”
    (Walker 2002:33).

    Walker’s use of ‘evolution’ obviously differs from the
    Darwinian sense of the term.

    Patrick Grant’s more balanced paper was first published in the
    winter 1973 issue of Cross
    (and is
    now available online on the Cross
    However, it did not reach a wider public until Isaacs and Zimbardo
    selected it for their volume of Tolkien criticism, which was
    published in 1981.

    To mention only the most prominent ones: the Silmarils, the
    Arkenstone, Elessar the Elfstone, and Aragorn attaining Selfhood as
    Elessar = Elfstone.

    Tucev (2005:99) gives a more convincing interpretation of the Ring:
    “The power with which the Ring endows its bearer is apparently
    shadow energy, inherent in the suppressed contents of the psyche,
    which the Ring seems to be able to reclaim. In other words, the Ring
    seems to act like an evil matchmaker, arranging a marriage between
    the ego and the shadow on the unwholesome ground of a power trip.
    Soon enough, in such an alliance, the ego finds itself under the
    sway of the power it wanted to wield.”

    Thus, Matthews (2003:36) identifies Smaug’s treasure as yet
    another symbol of the Self.

    Gandalf’s first appearance in The
    is that of
    “an old man with a staff” (Hobbit
    5), the archetypal image of the Old Wise Man, and it is only later
    that we (and Bilbo) get to know his name. Even Gandalf’s
    self-identification plays with this: “I am Gandalf, and Gandalf
    means me!” (Hobbit
    6) He is, however, not so much a helper-figure than a leader.

    Cf. Walker (2002:34).

    See, for example, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Frankenstein and the
    Monster, or Valentin and Orson (in the Middle English romance of the
    same name).

    Unfortunately, Kotowski does
    not provide an explanation for her (not really self-evident) choice.
    Presumably, the connection is to be made via Denethor’s
    ‘shadow-kingship’ (i.e. stewardship) vs. Aragorn’s legitimate

    See Flieger (1981/2004:58/143) who identifies Frodo and Gollum as
    “what psychology calls the ‘self’ and the ‘other’, the
    overt personality and its opposite, the light and dark sides of
    one’s nature. Jung calls this other side of mankind the ‘shadow’
    as contrasted with the overt and recognized ‘ego.’” However,
    Flieger (1981/2004:59/143) also warns us not to read Gollum as an
    allegorical personification, but points out that he is “a full
    realized character in his own right, with a considerable part to
    play in the story. But he can suggest these other things as well.”

    Shelob being the notable exception: as a descendant of Ungoliant,
    she has her origin outside Arda.

    See Tolkien (1981:172) in Letter 142, where he indirectly confirms
    Robert Murray’s (Societas Jesu) opinion that Galadriel is a
    representation of the Virgin Mary.

    This interpretation is in agreement with Shippey’s (2000:140-142)
    analysis of the situation.

    The rather obvious ‘castration symbolism’ has been pointed out
    before. Flieger (1981/2004:60/144), moreover, associates Frodo of
    the Nine Fingers with the Maimed King of the Grail legend.

    Skogemann’s (2009:32-34) ‘discussion’ of the passage does not
    get beyond a mere summary of the action.

    Jung (2009:208), however,
    argues explicitly in favour of a personification of contents of the
    unconscious, which makes Walker (2002:17) comment as follows:
    “Jung’s willingness to personify the archetypes of the
    unconscious is perhaps the most controversial dimension of his
    theory. It is one thing to describe archetypes as mental expressions
    of instincts. It is something else to describe them as animated
    beings with a consciousness of their own.” The implicit question
    being whether such a ‘personified’ archetype is able or even
    supposed to partake in the process of individuation.

    The literary critics working with a Jungian approach are not the
    only ones to forget this. The lack of a competent, comprehensive and
    sustained in-depth analysis of Tolkien’s style (pace Walker 2009)
    is rather telling.

    This is not the place to enter into an extended analysis of Tolkien
    criticism, and I can merely point to the other popular trend in the
    field, i.e. that of defending The
    Lord of the Rings

    as a morally good book – which is not really literary criticism

    This is primarily true for Europe. In America, Jung has had a much
    greater impact on literary studies.

    The situation is as follows: Skogemann (2009) lists O’Neill
    (1979), but neither Tucev (2005) nor O’Neill (1979) nor Grant
    (1973/1981/2004) list or mention any secondary literature on Tolkien
    and Jung. Matthews (1975) does not list any secondary literature at

    O’Neill being the laudable exception to the latter.

    See Walker (2002:21).

    BibliographyAnderson, Douglas A. (ed.). 2002.The Annotated Hobbit. (Revised and expanded edition). Boston: Houghton Mifflin.Bachmann, Dieter and Thomas Honegger. 2005. ‘Ein Mythos für das 20. Jahrhundert: Blut, Rasse und Erbgedächtnis bei Tolkien.’Hither Shore2:13-39.Barfield, Owen. 1988.Saving the Appearances. (Second edition. First edition 1957.) Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press.Flieger, Verlyn. 1981/2004. ‘Frodo and Aragorn: The Concept of the Hero.’ In Neil D. Isaacs and Rose A. Zimbardo (eds.). 1981.Tolkien: New Critical Perspectives. Lexington, Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 40-62. Reprinted in Rose A. Zimbardo and Neil D. Isaacs (eds.). 2004.Understanding The Lord of the Rings. The Best of Tolkien Criticism. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 122-145, 262-263.Freud, Sigmund. 1963.Das Unheimliche. Aufsätze zur Literatur. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer.Grant, Patrick. [1973]/1981/2004. ‘Tolkien: Archetype and Word.’ In Neil D. Isaacs and Rose A. Zimbardo (eds.). 1981.Tolkien: New Critical Perspectives. Lexington, Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 87-105. Republished in Rose A. Zimbardo and Neil D. Isaacs (eds.). 2004.Understanding The Lord of the Rings. The Best of Tolkien Criticism. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 163-182, 264-265. [First published inCross Currents, Winter 1973, 365-380].Jacobi, Jolande. 2008.Die Psychologie von C.G. Jung. [Original edition 1971.] Frankfurt am Main: Fischer.Jung, Carl Gustav. 2001.Archtypen. (Edited by Lorenz Jung.) Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag.Jung, Carl Gustav. 2009a.Das Rote Buch / The Red Book. Edited by Sonu Shamdasani. Freiburg: Patmos. English edition published by Norton &amp; Company, New York.Jung, Carl Gustav. 2009b.Erinnerungen, Träume, Gedanken. Aufgezeichnet und herausgegeben von Aniela Jaffé. [First German edition 1971]. Düsseldorf: Patmos.Kotowski, Nathalie. 1992. ‘Frodo, Sam and Aragorn in the Light of C.G. Jung.’Inklings-Jahrbuch10:145-159.Lewis, C.S. 1969. ‘Psycho-Analysis and Literary Criticism.’ In Walter Hooper (ed.). 1969.Selected Literary Essays by C.S. Lewis. Cambridge: At the University Press, 286-300.Matthews, Dorothy. 1975/2003. ‘The Psychological Journey of Bilbo Baggins.’ In Jared Lobdell (ed.). 1975.A Tolkien Compass. La Salle, IL: Open Court, 29-42. Reprinted in Jared Lobdell (ed.). 2003.A Tolkien Compass. Chicago and La Salle, IL: Open Court, 27-39.Nagy, Gergely. 2006. ‘The ‘Lost’ Subject of Middle-earth: The Constitution of the Subject in the Figure of Gollum inThe Lord of the Rings.’Tolkien Studies3:57-79.O’Neill, Timothy R. 1979.The Individuated Hobbit: Jung, Tolkien and the Archetypes of Middle-earth. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin.Petty, Anne C. 1979/2002.One Ring to Bind them All: Tolkien’s Mythology. Alabama: The University of Alabama Press.Petty, Anne C. 2003.Tolkien in the Land of Heroes. Cold Spring Harbor, NY: Cold Spring Press.Schwarz, Guido. 2003.Jungfrauen im Nachthemd – Blonde Krieger aus dem Westen. Eine motivpsychologisch-kritische Analyse von J.R.R. Tolkiens Mythologie und Weltbild. Würzburg: Königshausen und Neumann.Shippey, Tom A. 2000.J.R.R. Tolkien. Author of the Century. London: HarperCollins.Skogemann, Pia. 2009.Where the Shadows Lie. A Jungian Interpretation of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. Wilmette, Illinois: Chiron Publications.Tolkien,John Ronald Reuel. 1981.The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. (Edited by Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien.) London: George Allen &amp; Unwin. Reprinted HarperCollins, 1995Tolkien,John Ronald Reuel. 1992.Sauron Defeated. (The History of Middle-earth 9. Edited by Christopher Tolkien. Paperback edition 1993.) London: HarperCollins.Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel. 1995.The Hobbit. (Text of the third edition of 1966, corrected by Douglas Anderson.) London: HarperCollins.Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel.2004.The Lord of the Rings. 50th Anniversary One-Volume Edition. First edition published 1954-55. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin.Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel. 2008.TolkienOn Fairy-stories. (Expanded edition, with commentary and notes. Edited by Verlyn Flieger and Douglas A. Anderson.) London: HarperCollins.Tucev, Natasa. 2005. ‘The Knife, the Sting and the Tooth: Manifestations of Shadow inThe Lord of the Rings.’ In Thomas Honegger (ed.). 2005.Reconsidering Tolkien. (Cormarë Series 8.) Zurich and Berne: Walking Tree Publishers, 87-105.Vaccaro, Christopher. 2007. ‘Jungian Theory.’ InMichael D.C. Drout (ed). 2007.J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopaedia. Scholarship and Critical Assessment. New York: Routledge, 316-317.Veugen, Connie. 2005. ‘“A Man, lean, dark, tall”: Aragorn Seen Through Different Media.’ In Thomas Honegger (ed.). 2005.Reconsidering Tolkien. Zurich and Berne: Walking Tree Publishers, 171-209.Walker, Steve C. 2009.The Power of Tolkien’s Prose. New York: Palgrave.Walker, Steven F. 2002.Jung and the Jungians on Myth. New York: Routledge.

    It is laden with history, leading back into the dark heathen ages beyond the memory of song, but not beyond the reach of imagination.

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    It is laden with history, leading back into the dark heathen ages beyond the memory of song, but not beyond the reach of imagination.


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