“Those without swords can still die upon them.”
I read the Hobbit books while backpacking through Europe in 1972, and I loved the Lord of the Rings movies when they came out, years later. I even squeezed a couple of columns out of them. This one, on the movies’ rhetorical style, ran in the Seattle Times on December 31, 2003.
The Lord of the Rings movies have been praised for their plot, characters, theme, setting, music and special effects.
But say something also about their English.
Consider the scene in The Two Towers, when Lord Aragorn finds Lady Eowyn, the story’s Mulan, swooshing the air with a sword. He meets it with a clang of steel, and she parries him with a flip of the wrist.
“You have some skill with a blade,” he says.
She replies with an answer to warm the heart of the National Rifle Association: “Women of this country learned long ago: Those without swords can still die upon them.” She adds, “I fear neither death nor pain.”
“What do you fear, my lady?”
“A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valor has gone beyond use or desire.”
Politics aside, that is voluptuous English — and much of it right out of the fantasy J.R.R. Tolkien wrote half a century ago.
Eowyn could have said, “I can’t count on men like you to protect me, and I don’t want to rot in some cell. I have to be ready to defend myself.” But Eowyn and other high-status people in this story speak a dressy English. The hobbits are more colloquial, and the orcs — a subhuman race — speak among themselves like lowlife Americans: “Meat’s back on the menu, boys!”
Lord of the Rings uses high English to separate Middle Earth from us — and it certainly does. But formal English used to be an important part of our public life, and remains so in most other English-speaking cultures.
University of California, Berkeley, linguist John McWhorter argues in his new book, Doing Our Own Thing (Gotham Books), that Americans once used formal English regularly, and used it in great proclamations not so long ago. In 1941, Franklin Roosevelt spoke of “a date which shall live in infamy.” Even as recently as 1961, John Kennedy thought it was fitting to say, “Ask not what your country can do for you.”
For the speech of today, page through We Will Prevail (Continuum), the recent collection of speeches of George W. Bush. A few bright lines jump out, such as “history’s unmarked grave of discarded
lies.” But most of Bush’s talks are as functional as cotton underwear. Bush would not say, “Ask not.” He would say, “Don’t ask.” And it’s not because he’s a Republican. Read the speeches of Howard Dean. Read the speeches of Gen. Wesley Clark.
This is not about mangling impromptu lines. These are prepared speeches. If their rhetoric is flat, it is meant to be flat.
Today, even a presidential address to Congress comes clothed in a sweater and Dockers. McWhorter argues that this is more than a change in style. Americans, he says, are reverting to an oral culture in which standards are set by TV sitcoms, talk radio, rap music, e-mail and cell phones. We read less and talk more. To us, “the visceral, spontaneous and elementary” seem genuine and real. “Oratorical, poetic and compositional craft” seems false.
McWhorter argues that this shift in our English affects our song lyrics, our movie dialogue and the prose in Timemagazine. All have become more informal, more like talk, with sentences shorter and words simpler. The use of formal English is a flag that says: This is to be taken seriously.To replace it with a kind of linguistic egalitarianism is a dumbing down. McWhorter says: “A society that cherishes the spoken over the written is one that marginalizes extended, reflective argument.”
This is not an argument for duded-up writing, what Mark Twain called a “monkey with a parasol” style. Some writing needs to be presented in sweater and Dockers, and some in the buff. But sometimes it should dress up. Those who savor their English will find that some of the best writing wears a top hat and tails.
Viewing again the Rings movies, I thought: Why do I like these so much? The plot, the characters, the setting — yes, yes, yes. The imagery, the music, the special effects. All of that. But it was more. I like the way they talk. I like their English. It is clear, elegant, beautiful.
And in an imaginary world.
© 2003 The Seattle Times
I received a lot of response from this column, including a note from Tom Fortin, my yearbook teacher from Meadowdale High School, 1968-1969. Having a newspaper column is great for connecting with people you haven’t seen in decades.