Goethe and Faust for a New Age

If Aeneas is a Hero from the Wrong Age, Who is the Aeneas of Ours?

In the wake of my essay The Dawn of a New Civilization, a thoughtful critique emerged from a substacker named

glof

. Mr. Glof challenged my use of the term “Aenean” to describe the emerging spirit of our time:

I take issue with the term "Aegean" - Spengler's other civilizational names are products of the epoch that they name (i.e. Faust was of Faustian civilization, Apollo of Apollonian, the Magi of Magean). It seems unfitting to have a name of an era that isn't ours. The civilizations are "hermetically sealed" - The Aeneid is from a civilization that is not ultimately ours in Spenglerian terms.

Glof’s argument is well-rooted in Spenglerian logic: Spengler’s civilizational names—Apollonian, Magian, and Faustian—derive their resonance from figures intrinsic to the epochs they describe. Faust was not merely a literary creation but an avatar of his age, embodying the unbounded striving and restless ambition of the West. Aeneas, for all his virtues, belongs to a different civilization, and thus, Glof correctly points out, probably should not serve as the symbolic cornerstone for ours.

But who, in our age, could serve as an equivalent to Goethe, the literary and cultural genius who gave us Faust? And what hero, born of this hypothetical modern genius, might stand as the archetype for the soul of our era, as Faust did for the prior era?

Such figures must meet exacting criteria. The author must not only possess the intellectual breadth and artistic genius of Goethe but must also have created a character who resonates deeply with the existential challenges of our time. That character must stand at the crossroads of ruin and renewal, embodying both the catastrophic fall of a civilization and the possibility of its rebirth.

As I considered the question, one name began to dominate my thoughts: J.R.R. Tolkien, the creator of Middle-Earth and author of The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings.¹ And within Tolkien’s legendarium, one figure seemed to me an archetype for our age: Elendil, the exiled king of Númenor who escapes the ruin of his homeland to carry its sacred traditions to Middle-Earth. In Elendil, we find a figure strikingly similar to Aeneas, well-fitting for the challenges of our dawning age.

Are Tolkien’s literary contributions as foundational to our time as Goethe’s were to his? If Aeneas cannot be the hero of our time, can Elendil? Does Elendil embody the soul of an epoch on the brink of transition? And if so, what does it mean?

Is Tolkien our Goethe?

To claim J.R.R. Tolkien is a figure comparable to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe is to claim that Tolkien is a world-historical figure whose work is emblematic of an entire civilization. It is, as the kids say, “kind of a big deal.” Indeed, such a weighty claim would take a book to fully demonstrate. Here I can only sketch the outline of why Tolkien might be worthy of such regard.

Both Goethe and Tolkien were Learned Polymaths and Synthesizers

Goethe’s education was a marvel of breadth and depth. Born into an affluent family in 1749, he was tutored at home in languages, classics, and the natural sciences. He attended universities in Leipzig and Strasbourg, studying law but immersing himself in literature, philosophy, and art. This broad foundation enabled Goethe to excel across disciplines, from poetry to science, drama to statecraft.

Tolkien’s path was humbler but no less remarkable. Orphaned young, he was raised under the guardianship of a Catholic priest and later studied philology at Exeter College, Oxford. Tolkien mastered Old English, Middle English, Norse, and Finnish, and became an accomplished scholar, literary critic, and author.

Both men brought their immense learning into their creative works. Goethe’s philosophical project was the synthesis of Enlightenment rationality and Romantic spirituality. Goethe’s Faust distilled his philosophical and scientific pursuits into a dramatic meditation on human striving.

Tolkien’s great project was also a synthesis - fusing pre-Christian sagas with Catholic theology to creating mythology that appeals to the modern soul while honoring the ancient. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings presented this synthesis in a mythopoetic world built with great depth and coherence.

It is probably the case that Goethe’s breadth of learning surpassed Tolkien’s, but almost certainly the case that almost no one in today’s hyper-specialized academia could match either man in the polymathic genius of their output.

Both Goethe and Tolkien Created Monumental Bodies of Work

Goethe’s oeuvre spans several genres and disciplines, including poetry (The Sorrows of Young Werther), drama (Faust), novels (Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship), and science (his work on color theory, botany, and zoology). His literary contributions shaped Romanticism, while his scientific endeavors challenged the orthodoxy of Newtonian mechanics with a holistic and phenomenological approach now dubbed Goethian Science.

How does Tolkien’s body of work compare? Well, even before he became famous, Tolkien was a well-regarded philologist; his 1922 book A Middle English Vocabulary was considered the definitive guide to our linguistic predecessor. That’s certainly impressive — but it’s not world-historically impressive. A lot of other well-regarded scholars have “written the book” on their area of expertise. That’s what well-regard scholars do.

Tolkien’s fiction oeuvre, on the other hand, truly is impressive. His most-well known works, The Hobbit (1937), The Lord of the Rings (1954-55), and The Silmarillion (1977), all continue to be bestsellers almost a century later. His son Christopher Tolkien edited and published a number of other works by his father, including Unfinished Tales (9180), The History of Middle-Earth (1983-1996), The Children of Hurin (2007), Beren and Luthien (2017), and The Fall of Gondolin (2018), each of which has also been a bestseller.²

In addition to his great contribution to fiction, Tolkien made three non-fiction contributions which I believe will prove to be of timeless merit. The first is his essay Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics, which not only revolutionized the study of Old English literature, it also introduced the concept of “northern courage” and “the long defeat,” both of which would become major spiritual and political themes of right-wing thought in the late 20th and 21st century (more on this below). The second is another essay, On Fairy-Stories, which demonstrated that fantasy fiction was a literary genre of mythopoetic importance rather than merely pulpish entertainment and which laid out a theory of “subcreation” that justified investment in verisimilitude and worldbuilding. The third was his work on Elvish and other fictional languages, summarized in the posthumous A Secret Vice: On Invented Languages (2016), which gave birth to the entire field of “constructed languages” or conlanging. Your Contemplator himself consider these three works central to his own aesthetic, creative, and political maturation.

Both Goethe and Tolkien had Enormous Cultural Impact

Goethe’s influence in his day was immediate and wide-ranging. His works shaped the Romantic movement, inspired thinkers like Nietzsche and Jung, and provided a framework for grappling with modernity. Faust remains a touchstone for existential philosophy, capturing the essence of humanity’s drive to transcend its limitations, even at great cost.

Judged merely by numbers, Tolkien’s influence already rivals or surpasses Goethe’s. His works have collectively sold over 300 million copies. The Lord of the Rings alone has sold over 150 million copies, making it one of the best-selling books in history. In the 2000s, Peter Jackson’s two blockbuster Middle-Earth trilogies grossed nearly $3 billion worldwide. More recently, Amazon spent $1 billion to create the The Rings of Power. That such a vast sum was spent on such a terrible show further attests to Tolkien’s enduring relevance — for the Enemy cannot create, only corrupt; and Morgoth deliberately seeks to spoliate the myths and legends of our heroes.

Impressive as they are, these numbers understate Tolkien’s influence, which is ubiquitous in every aspect of the entire fantasy genre. Tabletop games like Dungeons & Dragons, Warhammer, and Magic: The Gathering; video games such as Dragon Age, Final Fantasy, and World of Warcraft; and countless fantasy novels; all owe their existence to Tolkien’s vision. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the entire genre of fantasy falls into two eras, Before Tolkien and After.

Had Tolkien merely re-shaped the landscape for “fantasy nerds,” he would be accounted among the great. But he did even more! Tolkien rekindled a cultural yearning for myth in an era dominated by disillusionment and rationalism. His works offered a vision of cosmic struggle and moral clarity that resonated deeply with readers weary of Faustian modernism. BBC customers voted The Lord of the Rings the nation’s “favorite book.” Amazon customers voted The Lord of the Rings the “book of the millennium.” The storied Oxford English Dictionary now includes “hobbit“, “eucatastrophe” and “Tolkienesque” in its lexicon.

While I doubt I will have persuaded the skeptics with these brief arguments, I certainly believe Tolkien’s cultural impact rivals Goethe’s. The two men both brought together disparate philosophical movements (Goethe synthesizing the Enlightenment and Romanticism, Tolkien synthesizing the Pre-Christian and Christian) in a way that spoke to the soul of their civilizations.

Who is Elendil?

Let us turn now from creator to character, from Goethe to Faust and Tolkien to Elendil. Faust, of course, needs no introduction — but perhaps Elendil does. For those of you unfamiliar with Tolkien’s legendarium, Elendil is a Numenoreans hero who appears in the short story Akallabêth in The Silmarillion and in the first appendix of The Lord of the Rings.

Elendil is a nobleman, born in the Second Age of Middle-Earth on the doomed island-kingdom of Númenor. Once a civilization of great power and knowledge blessed by the gods, Númenor in Elendil’s day had become corrupted by its pride and defiance. Númenor’s rulers, seduced by Sauron, sought mastery over death and dominion over the divine, and in so doing, provoked their downfall. As the great island sank into the sea, Elendil lead the Faithful—those who resisted Sauron’s lies—to safety.

Guided by divine providence and carrying sacred relics of Númenor, including the palantíri and the White Tree, Elendil and his people established the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor in Middle-Earth, each committed to preserving the traditions and values of Faithful Númenor.

Sauron, unfortunately, also survived the sinking of Númenor and sought to establish dominion over the new kingdoms. In the War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, Elendil joined with the Elven High King Gil-galad to oppose Sauron’s conquest. Together the two kings perishes defeating Sauron. Elendil’s legacy endures in his bloodline, a dynasty of kings that eventually leads, after thousands of years, to Aragorn.

In Elendil, we find a hero whose story is shaped by ruin and renewal. His actions preserve the memory and virtue of a fallen civilization while planting the seeds for a new age. His journey from Númenor to Middle-earth, his role as a cultural preserver and founder of new realms, and his heroic death in the face of overwhelming darkness mark him as a mythic archetype remarkably similar to Aeneas.

But before we explore that topic, we must first answer another a question.

How is Elendil Like Faust?

In asking “how is Elendil like Faust” we must be cautious, for we don’t really want to measure Elendil by how similar he is to Faust. If Elendil were too similar to Faust, it would mean we’ve failed to make our case for a new civilizational archetype! We actually want to measure Elendil by how similar he is to Aeneas, our first and original choice for the Aenean Age.

But there is one aspect in which we must judge Elendil against Faust, and that is in the weight he carries in his creator’s canon. To put it bluntly, some people reading this essay will be wondering, “If you were going to pick a Tolkienesque hero as the basis for our age, why the heck wouldn’t you pick Tolkien’s Aragorn?” After all, The Lord of the Rings is far more popular than The Silmarillion, and Aragorn is far more well-known than his ancestor Elendil.

The answer is: “For the same reason Spengler didn’t pick Goethe’s Werther.”

Today Goethe is remembered for Faust, and it was Faust that Spengler chose as the icon of our modern era. But while Goethe was alive, Faust was by no means his best-known or most-beloved character. No, it was Werther, the lovesick hero of Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther.

When it was published in 1774, The Sorrows of Young Werther was an immediate sensation that catapulted Goethe to international fame. The tragic story of Werther resonated deeply with the sensibilities of the late 18th century, sparking a cultural phenomenon known as “Werther Fever.” Fans dressed like Werther, quoted the book extensively, and imitated its romantic despair. The Sorrows of Young Werther also influenced fashion, art, and even suicides, leading to its association with the Sturm und Drang movement. Werther was the Harry Potter, Bella Swann, and Katniss Everdeen of his day; cosplay and fandom began with Goethe’s Werther!³

Meanwhile, Faust Part I was not published until 1808, well after the height of Werther’s popularity; and while well received, Faust Part I didn’t initially achieve the cultural ubiquity of Werther. Faust Part II, completed in 1831, was not published until shortly before Goethe’s death and it did not gain recognition as a masterpiece until well after Goethe had passed. Spengler did not name the Faustian Age until 1918, some 87 years after Faust was written.

Similarly, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings catapulted Tolkien to international fame, and its characters - Bilbo, Frodo, Aragorn, and the rest of the Fellowship — became the center of his fandom. Meanwhile Akallabêth was not published until after Tolkien had died, when his son put it into The Silmarillion in 1977. It has not yet been 87 years since then.

So, while my choice of Elendil over the far-more popular Aragorn might seem unexpected, it seems to me within the Spenglerian tradition to select a less-popular character if he is a more appropriate archetype for the civilization. If I am right that Elendil is like Faust, then we would expect to see Elendil’s story rising to prominence several decades after Tolkien’s death. And that is, in fact, what we are seeing: Elendil is currently a prominent character in Amazon's The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. It is simply the tragedy of our era that our cultural elite revel in destroying that which matters most.

How is Elendil Like Aeneas?

How is Elendil like Aeneas? Elendil’s story offers such a complete and compelling parallel with that of Aeneas, the hero of Virgil’s Aeneid, that I can only assume that Tolkien was inspired by Virgil. Let’s examine the similarities.

Both Aeneas and Elendil are Survivors of Catastrophe

Aeneas escapes the destruction of Troy, carrying with him the Penates, the household gods of his people. His mission is divinely ordained: to found a new home for the remnants of Trojan civilization, leading to the eventual rise of Rome.

Elendil flees the sinking of Númenor, bringing with him the sacred artifacts of his culture, including the White Tree and the palantíri. His journey mirrors Aeneas’s, as he seeks to preserve the spirit of Númenor while founding new realms in Middle-earth.

Both heroes are defined by their ability to endure the annihilation of their worlds and to carry forward the cultural and spiritual essence of their peoples.

Both Aeneas and Elendil are Founders and Preservers

Aeneas founds Latium, the precursor to Rome, where he establishes the roots of what will become an empire. His actions are guided by his sense of duty (pietas) to the gods, his family, and his people.

Elendil establishes Arnor and Gondor, laying the foundation for the kingdoms that will stand as bastions of resistance against Sauron’s dominion. Elendil’s deeds reflect his unwavering commitment to the Valar and the ancient traditions of “The Faithful” of Númenor.

Both figures embody the principle that the survival of a civilization depends not on conquest alone but on the preservation of its moral and cultural values.

Both Aeneas and Elendil Are Driven by Divine Mandate and Guidance

Aeneas is driven by prophecy and the will of the gods, particularly Jupiter, who decrees that he will found a great empire. His journey is marked by divine interventions, from Venus’s protection to Mercury’s warnings.

Elendil, too, is guided by providence. His loyalty to the Valar, the divine stewards of the world, ensures his survival and success. His journey to Middle-earth is not an act of chance but a fulfillment of a divine purpose to resist Sauron’s growing shadow.

Both heroes act not out of personal ambition but as instruments of a higher will, carrying forward the destiny of their people.

Both Aeneas and Elendil Carry Symbols of Continuity

Aeneas carries the Penates and the sacred flame of Troy, ensuring that the cultural and religious essence of his homeland survives.

Elendil brings the White Tree, the palantíri, and his sword Narsil, each symbolizing the continuity of Númenor’s noblest traditions.

Through these relics, both heroes ensure that their civilizations are not merely remembered but renewed.

Both Aeneas and Elendil Are Heroes Tempered by Duty

Aeneas is portrayed throughout the Aeneid as a reluctant hero, torn between personal desires and his duty to his people and the gods.

Elendil, too, is a figure of quiet heroism, driven not by personal ambition but by a profound sense of responsibility to his people and his faith.

Both characters demonstrate that true heroism lies in the willingness to sacrifice personal desires for the greater good.

So is Elendil the Archetypical Hero of our Dawning Age?

If I am right that we are witnessing the collapse of the Faustian spirit and the emergence of a new civilizational ethos, then both Aeneas and Elendil would seem to offer a model of heroism that speaks to our time. Both embodies resilience in the face of catastrophe and the capacity to preserve the best of a collapsing civilization. Both “got the job done,” as it were.

Elendil might even get the job done better, if one is a bit pessimistic about the future.

Aeneas, after all, represents the foundation of an empire destined for expansion and conquest. Aeneas expects that his new city will one day surpass Troy. Elendil knows that Arnor and Gondor can never be as great as Númenor was at its greatest, for the gift of the Valar has been squandered. Nevertheless, he sets out to preserve what he can of the noble and good in a world of chaos and decline.

If we analogize fossil fuels and other natural resources to the gift of Númenor to the Edain, then Faustian man’s overconsumption of these gifts in pursuit of God-like dominion over nature is the Sauronic sin that sinks Númenor. We should expect that when the next civilization builds the successor to Faustian Númenor, “Arnor and Gondor” will not have the same gifts, e.g. it will be an age marked by more scarcity and less abundance. We’ll discuss this more below.

Is There Evidence of a Tolkienesque Influence on Politics?

Andrew Breitbart famously proclaimed that “politics is downstream of culture.” If J.R.R. Tolkien is indeed our cultural mythmaker and Elendil our cultural hero, the cultural influences should not remain confined to literature and myth. They should be shaping the broader currents of thought, values, and politics of our time, just as Goethe and Faust did in their time. And, if I’m right, those influences should be showing up in politics that are aligned with the right-wing or Aenean worldview I’ve elaborated on the Tree of Woe.

And this is, of course precisely what we see with Tolkien’s works today. Indeed, one of the leading right-wing political movements in the West today was built on a Tolkienesque foundation.

Is Italy the New Gondor?

Italy: the storied land of Aeneas. There, more than any place, Tolkien’s narratives have profoundly influenced conservative politics and traditionalist movements.

It began in the 1970s, when Italy’s post-fascist youth movements faced the challenge of distancing themselves from the discredited symbols of Mussolini’s regime. Seeking a new cultural framework, they turned to Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. The story of the Hobbits, simple folk thrust into a monumental struggle to preserve their way of life, resonated with these groups, who saw themselves as defenders of tradition against the forces of modernity and globalization.

Thus came the creation of Hobbit Camps, cultural festivals inspired by Tolkien’s Middle-Earth. These gatherings featured music, discussions, and activities centered on themes of resilience, duty, and heritage. For the young conservatives who attended these camps, the Hobbits became a symbol of resistance and fidelity to one’s roots, while Mordor represented the dehumanizing forces of industrialism and globalism… which is, to be clear, exactly what Tolkien intended them to represent.

Tolkien’s influence is evident in the career of Giorgia Meloni, Italy’s first female prime minister and leader of the Brothers of Italy party. As a youth activist, Meloni participated in Tolkien-themed events and adopted nicknames from his characters. She has referred to The Lord of the Rings as a “sacred text” for conservatives, citing its emphasis on tradition, courage, and the cosmic struggle between good and evil.

In 2023, under Meloni’s government, Italy’s Ministry of Culture organized a major exhibition in Rome to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Tolkien’s death. Inaugurated by Meloni herself, the exhibition was not merely a celebration of Tolkien as a literary figure but a deliberate affirmation of his cultural significance for Italian conservatives. The event underscored how deeply Tolkien’s works have been woven into the ideological fabric of modern Italian politics.

Beyond its cultural resonance, Tolkien’s work has been consciously employed as a political symbol. Italian conservative leaders have invoked lines and imagery from The Lord of the Rings in their rhetoric. During her final campaign rally, Meloni paraphrased Aragorn’s speech from the battle of the Black Gate: “The day of defeat will come, but not today.”

What About the United States of Arnor?

While not yet as influential here as in Italy, J.R.R. Tolkien’s work is definitely having an impact on U.S. political discourse. It is a vital source of inspiration for what we might call the the Geek Right, a broad and barely coherent network of individuals and movements that rose to prominence during #GamerGate. The Geek Right is difficult to categorize within the existing political parties, but it is united in its longing for a return - even if only symbolic or fantastical - to traditional values. (Vance might, in fact, be the first national politician from the geek right.)

The Geek Right manifests mostly strongly on 4Chan and X, where it is characterized by its many Ancient Roman history threads; its demands that we reclaim Constantinople whilst shouting Deus Vult; and its use of Middle-Earth as meme fodder.

With the Right currently fighting amongst itself over immigration, some of the Middle Earth memes lately have been very feisty (or perhaps fausty) indeed….

Once confined to rather esoteric parts of the Extremely Online, the ideas of the Geek Right are slowly finding expression in mainstream political discourse. Phrases like “The West is Gondor” and “We are the Last Alliance” have begun appearing in speeches, essays, and podcasts associated with mainstream right-wing figures.

Foremost among these is J.D. Vance, author of Hillbilly Elegy, former U.S. Senator from Ohio, and now Vice President Elect. Vance has openly discussed how The Lord of the Rings influenced his conservative worldview. Vance even named his venture capital firm “Narya,” after one of the Elven Rings of Power in Tolkien's mythology. Vance’s friend and mentor, Peter Thiel, a billionaire venture capitalist and political donor, has also drawn inspiration from Tolkien's legendarium. Thiel named his data analytics company "Palantir," after the seeing-stones in The Lord of the Rings.

The burgeoning influence of Tolkien on the Right Wing has drawn the attention of that most shrewd and perspicacious of political commentators, Rachel Maddow:

‘Lord of the Rings’ is a sort of favorite cosmos for naming things and cultural references for a lot of far-right and alt-right figures, both in Europe and the United States. Peter Thiel names all these things after Tolkien figures in places like his company Palantir, for example…

Like his mentor, like Peter Thiel, who had given him all his jobs in the world, Mr. Vance also, when he founded his own venture capital firm with help from Peter Thiel, named it after a ‘Lord of the Rings’ thing. He called it Narya, N-A-R-Y-A, which you can remember because it’s ‘Aryan,’ but you move the N to the front. Apparently that word has something to do with elves and rings from ‘The Lord of the Rings’ series, I don’t know.

Maddow, being barely capable of grasping the mainstream right-wing views of The Lord of the Rings fans, is entirely unprepared for the far right extremism found in The Silmarillion aficionados. The truly extreme thinkers, of course, go even further; they embrace R.E. Howard’s Conan over Tolkien’s Elendil. But that is another story...

What Does the Future Hold?

If Tolkien is the creator of our cultural myth, and Elendil our cultural hero, then the myths of Middle-Earth may offer a prophetic vision of what lies ahead. I mean that in an almost literal sense; I take seriously the idea that there are mythic archetypes and providential insights in the great canon of creative works.

The defining conflict of Elendil’s era, the Second Age of Middle Earth, is fought by the Last Alliance of Elves and Men. The Last Alliance is a coalition of the remnants of great powers, united in the aftermath of Númenor's fall to resist the rising darkness of Sauron. After decades of brutal struggle, The Last Alliance of Elves and Men achieves its purpose: Sauron is defeated and the One Ring is taken from him. Yet the victory is bittersweet. Elendil falls in battle and his sword Narsil shattered. His son Isildur chooses to keep rather destroy the One Ring, ensuring that the seeds of future conflict are sown. The Elves, diminished by their sacrifice, begin their long retreat into the West, and the kingdoms of Men, though triumphant, are fractured and weakened. Thus begins the Third Age.

Tolkien’s Third Age is marked by many moments of heroism and beauty, but even at its height it is a shadow of the glorious Second Age. By the time of The Lord of the Rings, the Elves have faded, Númenor has become a memory, Arnor has been conquered, and Gondor has been reduced to a pale reflection of its former strength.

If what was true of Middle-Earth is true of our own era, then what lies ahead is neither the dawn of a golden age or the night of a dark age, but rather a long twilight—an era where the remnants of greatness, having averted or avoided total annihilation, nevertheless must struggle to resist an ever-encroaching darkness at great cost. The civilization, while noble, will bear terrible scars from this struggle. Its grandeur will be tempered by humility and its ambitions will be limited by necessity.

I thus finish this essay with an unsettled heart. Tolkien, I am convinced, is truly a cultural mythmaker as influential as Goethe; and Elendil, I am certain, is a hero cut from the same cloth as Aeneas.

But Aeneas’s cloth is the purple cloak worn to an emperor’s coronation; and Elendil’s cloth is the shroud worn to a king’s funeral. Rome was greater than Troy, but neither Arnor nor Gondor was as great as Númenor. Thus an Elendilian Age would not be as bright as an Aenean Age. Its destiny would be somewhere between the inspiring future of my original essay and the hellish future anticipated by my essay’s critics.

Yet this ought be no cause for despair. If the Aenean spirit or Tolkien’s northern courage means anything, it means that the fight must be fought regardless of the likelihood of success. And Tolkien’s myths remind us that even in decline, there is beauty, heroism, and meaning. The Elendilian Age, if it were to come, might not shine as brightly as the Faustian, or even the Aenean; but it would still carry forward the light of what came before. And in the end, that light—however faint—will be enough to illuminate the path for those who follow.

1. To be fair, J.R.R. Tolkien often dominates my thoughts anyway. I think about Middle Earth almost as often as my dog thinks about treats. And my dog really likes treats.

2. Tolkien has had more books since being dead than the “American Tolkien” George R. R. Martin has had published while alive and some sources believe the long-dead Tolkien would be more likely to satisfactorily finish Game of Thrones than the still-living Martin.

3. It is easy to forget how often today’s great canon was yesterday’s pop culture. Self-consciously literary work that appeals only to the elite rarely stands the test of time; it is the books that young men carry in their tents to conquer Persia, and women weep over in their salons, that change history.