I had a stray thought recently, inspired by Sam’s reluctance to give the Ring back up to Frodo in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. For anyone who needs a refresher, this occurs in Book VI, following Shelob’s Lair and Sam’s taking of the Ring from Frodo’s (seemingly) lifeless body. When Sam finds and rescues Frodo in the tower, he has a moment of hesitation in giving the Ring back: Sam fumbled for the Ring and its chain. ‘But I suppose you must take it back.’ Now it had come to it, Sam felt reluctant to give up the Ring and…
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I’ve always been fond of “significant” numbers, of milestones and notable figures. I suspect I like them less for any actual achievement that they represent (after all, technically speaking reaching 101 of something is more of an achievement than 100, and yet the latter is disproportionately lauded!) and more for their large round numberiness, but the effect is the same either way. I like a milestone. For more than a few blog pages, 50 posts wouldn’t necessarily feel like a milestone – that’s just a post a week for a year, with Christmas and Easter off into the bargain. But…
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The Man with the Golden Gun is not a great Bond film. Indeed, it isn’t even a particularly good film. It’s by no means the worst Bond film ever made (I can think of three or four that I loathe much more off the top of my head), but it’s either the best of the bad Bond films, or the worst of the mediocre entries. Yet, I think it’s the Bond film we need right now. It might not be the best Bond film ever made, but I think that The Man with the Golden Gun is the best Bond…
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Having dealt with Tolkien’s Lesser Tales over the last month, there was really only one piece of Tolkien’s fiction that we could possibly turn to as a postscript to this series – what may very well be the Least Tale of Tolkien, as it were. Mention ‘Goblin Feet’ to a Tolkien lover, and you’ll get one of two reactions. The first (and much more common) is likely bafflement, a “huh?” and subsequent inquiry as to whether this is some sort of evidence about the origin of Orcs? The rarer, and desired, reaction, is a wry chuckle and a raise of…
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Of all of the extraordinary and beautiful things in the world, none of them had ever happened to Charles Carlton. There was nothing wrong with Charles Carlton, unless it is wrong to never be right. His clothes were smart and never quite fit him, and though their hue and cut perfectly suited him, his own complexion was the wrong colour to suit them. The last time he had had a haircut that he liked was twenty-nine years ago, when his mother had last taken him to the barber. His eyes shone like small puddles, and his voice reminded others of…
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