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I recently finished John Hendrix’s graphic novel The Mythmakers: The Remarkable Fellowship of C.S. Lewis & J.R.R. Tolkien. Hendrix covers a lot of range (in miniscule font–I needed my reading glasses for this one): biographies of the two men, their intersection at Oxford and friendship, their encouragement of one another to create a new mythology, elaboration on myth/fairy tale/fantasy, and their eventual estrangement. The illustrations of their last interactions put a lump in my throat.

This illustration also caught my eye: a comparison of their published major works from 1940-1947. Of course not pictured is Tolkien’s labors on The Lord of the Rings (published 1954), but it shows how crazy fast Lewis was in getting books out there. (Especially crazy given that there was…you know, a ginormous war going on for most of this time period.) The entire Narnia series was published between 1950-1956–also crazy fast.

It’s a generous stretch to call “Leaf by Niggle” a “major work” as well! It’s a simple short story, heart achingly transparent; Tolkien is Niggle, “a very ordinary and rather silly little man.”

Niggle is a painter but he’s constantly interrupted from focusing on his one desire to paint leaves. His lack of productivity is because “he was sometimes just idle, and did nothing at all,” but also “he was kindhearted, in a way. You know the sort of kind heart: it made him uncomfortable more often than it made him do anything; and even when he did anything, it did not prevent him from grumbling, losing his temper and swearing (mostly to himself).”

If you’ve read Tolkien’s letters, you can see it’s a wonder that he ever finished LotR. His attention is constantly carved away by grading papers, dripping taps, answering mail, and worrying about his sons in the war. My goodness. Perhaps writing it was an escape for him? But it seems that it was also an agony of its own kind–his insistence on complete veracity in his world building is legendary. I have a lot of sympathy for the man.

But back to “Leaf by Niggle.” Seeing that picture made me dig it up for a reread. I love this story. Poor Niggle–he wants to make beauty but the interruptions leave him a mess of resentment, irritation, and procrastination. Things take off in unexpected directions when the long journey he has been dreading is thrust on him. (Am I convincing you to read it if you haven’t yet? Haha)

The end of the story is deeply moving and pretty much perfect. It’s a shot of encouragement to all of us Niggles. We are selfish, petty, wasteful, and don’t live up to our grand ambitions. There is never enough time. This really isn’t the end of our story, though. “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion. . . .” The Lord of the Rings will always be a majestic work, but I’m personally very thankful that Tolkien let “Leaf by Niggle” out into the world.

It’s a P&P bonanza! News popped up in my FB that Netflix has a six part mini series in development. Comments mostly skewed towards indignance–“do we REALLY need another P&P?!? Nothing can compare to — version.” Well, it has been 20 years since the “new” one, so I’m psyched for another retelling, especially in mini series form. I’m not familiar with the actress playing Elizabeth, but Olivia Colman was born to be in P&P. Jack Lowden plays a misanthropic, self-centered try hard in Slow Horses, but I somehow root for him anyway. Boom, he’ll be a great Mr. Darcy. I just trust these actors to not go along with a terrible screenplay (see Netflix’s Persuasion). Hooray, more P&P!

Watching old movies in the theater is just luxurious fun. The “new” 20 year old P&P is such a pleasure from beginning to end. The story is so compressed compared to the mini series, though, so it can feel a little like a best hits album. The exposition skips so rapidly from juicy scene to juicy scene; the deep-seeded pride and prejudice don’t really get to simmer. I was telling Ruth that it cuts out too much of the “prejudice” part–I couldn’t even remember anything about Wickham because his part is so truncated.

Seeing it at the theater, though, I also think the “pride” part is not given its full due. I noticed this time around that Darcy doesn’t really own anything about his past pride when Elizabeth returns his love. His past insufferableness is glossed over entirely, and that’s a shame. “You have bewitched me body and soul” is a great romantic line and all, but how has Darcy really changed from knowing Elizabeth?

I had to find my old copy of P&P (Illustrated Junior Library edition, the first classic that my dad got me) to refresh my memory of Austen’s wise and beautiful story-telling.

I have been a selfish being all my life in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. . . . to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

P&P is satisfying to watch because of its happy ending, but it should also be satisfying because the heroes have fully faced their shameful mistakes and wrongdoings and yet are forgiven and sought after.

The P&P bonanza continues next week when we see the Sunny Hills theater edition! 🙂