A Hobbit, A Wardrobe, and A Great War by Joseph Loconte reads like a fictional story, a story about how two men—two literary giants—who stood in the gap of monumental societal changes and who, through their writings, dared to remind the world of a far simpler, a far more hopeful time. At its core, the book asks a simple question. That question is best stated by the author himself, but pardon the long quote. It is important to frame this in the context in which Loconte asks it:
When Freud’s first psychiatric clinic opened in Berlin in 1920, it paved the way for his views about human nature, guilt, and God. Freud proved especially attractive to a generation struggling to find meaning in the war’s aftermath. Religious belief was seen as an attempt to protect against suffering, “a delusional remolding of reality.” With God discredited, meaning must be found “in life itself, in the act of living, in the vitality of the moment.” Thus, the new psychology legitimized a new hedonism. Within a decade, W.R. Matthews, the Dean of Exeter, complained of “the decay of institutional religion” because of the “incoherence of the Christian message and its apparent contradiction with modern knowledge.”
All of this helped to produce the modern, secular zealot: the revolutionary who seeks to create heaven on earth. Science, psychology, politics, economics, education—any of these disciplines might be enlisted in the cause. At universities such as Oxford, where Tolkien and Lewis established themselves in the 1920s, a cocktail of experimentation and existential doubt was the order of the day.
Pacifism was all the rage. Patriotism was out, replaced by contempt for all the old virtues. For the intellectual class as well as the ordinary man on the street, the Great War had defamed the values of the Old World, along with the religious doctrines that helped to undermine them. Moral advancement, even the idea of morality itself, seemed an illusion…
As Lewis recalled the scene many years later, the “mental climate of the Twenties” influenced an entire generation of students and future scholars. “None can give to another what he does not possess himself,” he wrote. “A man whose mind was formed in a period of cynicism and disillusion, cannot teach hope or fortitude.” The verdict was in: the war to make the world safe for democracy, the holy war to advance Christian ideals, was an unholy delusion.
Given these postwar sensibilities, how did Oxford become the incubator for epic literature extolling valor and sacrifice in war? Why would the works of Tolkien and Lewis, rooted in a narrative of Christian redemption, ever see the light of day?
How, indeed?
The title to this book infers that the Great War (WWI) influenced the minds of Tolkien and Lewis, but it was more than that, it was the changes in politics and technology, philosophy and religion and education, and so many other advances—the Myth of Progress—of our modern day at the turn of the 20th century as well that helped shaped their ideas. The dreadful realities that shaped two of the greatest works of a generation can probably be best summed up in a single quote, that of Faramir, Captain of Gondor in the Lord of the Rings (The Two Towers).
War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, not the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.
Faramir states what Tolkien and Lewis experienced in the war, and how they viewed it. An insane and necessary task to preserve all that was good and beautiful in the world. But still, they had to endure and survive the horrendously cruel realities of the first modern, mechanized war in all its ugliness, in all its exalted progress. As Loconte writes: “What Lewis and Tolkien and the fighting men of their generation endured was something novel in the history of warfare: modern science and technology ruthlessly devoted to the annihilation of both man and nature”. The gut wrenching misery of the battles of the First World War stayed with them long after their return home, and yet, through it all, Tolkien and Lewis found a way to channel those horrors into two of the richest literary works the world has ever seen. As Lewis wrote of his friend Tolkien’s great work: “But a lot of other things come in. So much of your whole life, so much of our joint life, so much that seemed to be slipping away quite spurlos (without trace) into the past, is now, in a sort made permanent.”
In reading A Hobbit, A Wardrobe, and A Great War, there were times when my heart grew a little heavy, a little sadder, but in those same moments I also experienced the lightness and joy that I have always felt whenever I read Tolkien and Lewis's great classics. Their stories are a light in a dark place, and we have all benefitted from the friendship of these two great, yet humble men, and their desire not to succumb to the gnawing disillusionment and cynicism of their day.
In the end, Joseph Loconte has given us not just a vision of the friendship between Tollers and Jack who, through their works gave us a rediscovery of faith and heroism in a troubled time, but also an indictment against the dehumanizing modernism the world has inherited as a result of the Great War, and later, the Second World War that has all too often tried to dim a vision of hope and light in a world slowly slipping into darkness.
The most influential Christian authors of the twentieth century believed that every human soul was caught up in a very great story: a fearsome war against a Shadow of Evil that has invaded the world to enslave the sons and daughters of Adam. Yet those who resist the Shadow are assured that they will not be left alone; they will be given the gift of friendship amid their struggle and grief. Even more, they will find the grace and strength to persevere, to play their part in the story, however long it endures and wherever it may lead them.
A brilliant and sobering read! Highly Recommended! ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️