Tolkien survived his time on the front line, but almost all of his closest friends did not. In touch with his feminine side, decidedly uninterested in war or violence, Bilbo is the prototype of a sensitive gay man.
Tolkien once wrote: “I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats.” It is intriguing to ponder what the author would have made of Peter Jackson’s adaptation of The Hobbit.
For any gay man wishing for true self-discovery, the solution may be to follow Frodo and develop empathy for his own “inner Gollum.” In facing the shadow in this way, a gay man may also gain a fuller experience of previously repressed homosexual eros.
Yet in order to integrate the shadow and its hidden treasures a person must actively wrestle with it.
Because Jackson has successfully applied an amazing hyper-realism to this fantasy character, Gollum seems utterly believable on screen. Lesbians in this era were generally isolated, like Bilbo, and viewed disparagingly as lonely spinsters, but some women formed female partnerships and became active in women’s suffrage. Tolkien’s sympathetic depiction of the unconventional lives and loves of hobbits takes his readers on journeys that go ever onward, to places yet to be discovered.
Published in:July-August 2003 issue.
THE LORD OF THE RINGS gives a significant purpose and meaning to enduring male-male partnerships that many more overtly gay narratives do not.
One clue can be found in novelist Mary Renault’s use of the word “queer” in her pioneering gay love story, The Charioteer (1953). Instead, this world comprises a fellowship of nine single men all bound to each other by their solemn word, with the bond of Frodo and Sam at its core.
Tolkien was open about his desire to create a new, living mythology for English culture in Lord of the Rings and related works.
He trembled.” This description of Gollum as living a life deprived of sunlight, fresh air, and love speaks to the collective suffering of all the sexual outcasts in Tolkien’s era.
Love that Goes Beyond a Masculine Fellowship
A gay-themed reading of The Hobbit is bolstered by the emotions expressed in the moving scene that reunites Thorin and Bilbo just before Thorin’s death.
But the sense of loss remains: the love that goes beyond male fellowship can neither be forgotten nor recreated.
The essential sadness of Bilbo in the many years after his one great adventure continues into the next book in the cycle, The Fellowship of the Ring. “It’s Sam, I’ve come!” He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast.
Plus, San Diego Comic Con brings lots of news on The Rings of Power and other nerd franchises.
I’ll have more to say about this later, but I wanted to share this now. As in The Hobbit, Aragorn’s uncontrollable weeping after Boromir’s death betrays his realization of the love he has not dared to disclose.
When Bilbo studies and debates Gollum, who’s about his own size, he’s confronting his alter ego. The artistic side to his nature is conveyed through his love of beautiful things in his home. Sam Gamgee sings as he searches for his beloved Frodo and climbs the Tower of Cirith Ungol in The Return of the King. “It was a beautiful golden harp, and when Thorin struck it the music began all at once, so sudden and sweet that Bilbo forgot everything else, and was swept away into dark lands under strange moons.” The music is enchanting to Bilbo, who swoons in romantic ecstasy as he imagines awakening out of his life of repression and loneliness and being part of a masculine fellowship.
In many of his books about the history of Middle-earth, Tolkien employs music, especially the singing of songs, to express romantic love between men.
This same-sex configuration of self-actualization echoes closely the individuation process for gay men described by gay-centered psychologist Mitch Walker, who has brought a much-needed homosexual perspective to Jungian psychology and elucidated the significance of “a special, erotic, twin ‘brother’ who is felt to be the ‘source of inspiration’” in a gay man’s psyche.
Walker has termed this inner archetypal figure the “Double,” who appears in the unconscious inner world of all men, straight or gay, as the underpinning for ego identity and the source of “brotherly love.” Yet for gay men, Walker explains, this archetypal being is erotically charged and becomes the primary “soul figure,” exactly the role that Sam plays for Frodo, as “a soul-mate of intense warmth and closeness” who can “unlock creative processes” and lead to “significant self-realizations.” He is also a “powerful helper, full of magic to aid in an individual’s struggles.” Time and time again, when Frodo has become disoriented, exhausted, or hopeless, Sam inspires him to continue, supporting him both physically and emotionally throughout their tortuous journey.
Frodo is initially disgusted by this creature, even wishing his death, but he eventually develops a strong empathy for Gollum.
Was it you?” “It was indeed, Mr. Frodo. Whether they’re fleeing winged serpents, battling a giant spider, or escaping from murderous orcs, Sam is always at Frodo’s side, repeatedly risking his own life to protect that of his master. When neither of them reasonably should have any strength or hope left, Sam “magically” finds a way to bring them out of their predicament, whether it’s by finding enchanted elfish rope in his pack or by helping Frodo take his final exhausted steps up Mount Doom.
The relationship between Frodo and Sam is not only an ode to same-sex love but also an archetypal dynamic within each gay man, where self-reflection may reveal the existence of an inner lover or a “soul figure” and guide who loves us just as Sam loves Frodo, and who, like Sam, can spur us to reach our greatest potential.