All The Edges Of Our Maps Are Filled In
Musings on Tolkien, fantasy, and the wonders of the Unknown
Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals. (Genesis 2:19-20a NIV)
From the very beginning, humans were created to name and classify. In the days of Adam and of Noah, all the creatures were gathered together, and we knew all their names, even if we had not yet traversed all of the Earth. But since then, animals and humans were scattered, and much of that knowledge was lost.
But at the same time, something wonderful was gained. Where knowledge is missing, there is the opportunity to explore and discover. Individuals journeyed far and wide, mapping distant lands and discovering creatures unlike any they’d seen before. One’s corner of the world might be familiar, but beyond the horizon were always new places and peoples, strange lands full of wonderful and terrible things. The Unknown was ever-present and ever-waiting, and our imaginations flourished.
But in a world where we think we have all the answers, what use have we for imagination?
Today, humans have mapped the entire world and classified all of its creatures. We can visit a zoo and see every animal we wish, and anyone can easily learn the geography of the most distant land. Species are still being found, but discovering a new beetle doesn’t hold the same grandeur as an explorer setting eyes on a rhinoceros for the first time. In a world so full of knowledge, there’s no need to ponder what lies beyond the horizon.
Even in that great realm of imagination called storytelling, humanity has changed. Modern fantasy stories are eager to share every detail possible, and audiences love learning everything they can about the stories. In some ways, the intricacies and connections are thrilling, opening up a world of hidden lore. But they also seem to make these worlds feel far smaller.
In part, it may be because our modern world gives us the tiniest, most intricate answers we could ever wish for, all available at a moment’s notice. If someone wonders what actually powers the Force, or how Nick Fury lost his eye, they no longer have to ponder the great mystery of the Unknown. Eventually, they will simply be granted the answer. And sometimes, that answer is far less exciting than what we can imagine for ourselves.
Which brings me to Tolkien and the wonderful world of the Unknown. Tolkien created the vast, complex world of Middle Earth, filled with detailed backstories for his characters, kingdoms, and creatures. The lineage of people like Aragorn stretched back thousands of years, and something as simple as a bright star in the sky carried a rich, unexpected history. Readers could delve into the books and appendices and companion volumes, learning all the details of this world and how they fit together into the larger story.
And yet.
Despite all these details, Tolkien still left gaps. In doing so, he kept a sense of wonder, a sense of more things waiting to be discovered. Many creatures and places were left unexplained, defying classification for anyone who wished to dig deeper.
Even hobbits are surrounded by the Unknown. There are stories about the origins of elves, men, dwarves, ents, dragons, orcs, Nazgul, wizards, balrogs, and even eagles in Middle Earth. Should a reader wish, they could learn the lore and history of all of these creatures.
But the hobbits’ origins are stubbornly absent from these stories. These little creatures are the center of Tolkien’s books, yet he gives very little detail about where they first came from. Which of the Valar created the hobbits, or were they simply part of the larger creation song? If they were truly a strange offshoot of the race of Men, which Men did they come from? We don’t know, and we likely never will.
In the same way, many readers are puzzled by Tom Bombadil and want to know how to classify him. Is he a man, an elf, a Maia, or something else? Are there other creatures like him in Middle Earth? What, exactly, are his powers?
These questions are enjoyable to ponder, but I’m honestly grateful that they have no answer. Tom Bombadil simply is, and that’s all we get to know. Tolkien’s fantastical sense of the Unknown lurks behind creatures like the Watcher in the Water, Ungoliant, and even Mr. Bombadil. We get a hint of a grand world beyond what we see, but we never get to discover all of its secrets.
And so, in a world full of answers, I find myself yearning for the Unknown that Tolkien so artfully portrays. I want to ponder what lies beyond the horizon without an easy answer awaiting me. For every new discovery, I wish for a hint of something more, hidden just beyond my grasp.
If we truly dare, fantasy can deliver this again. Let us explore mysterious new lands, seeking for answers but only finding some of them. Let there always be creatures that remain strange to us, glimpsed only in the fleeting edges of our vision. Let us delve into the deep histories of peoples remembered only in the twilights of our minds. And let there once again be maps that grow faded at the edges.
May fantasy help us embrace the wonders of the Unknown once more.