. Alas, not me

05 April 2026

Star Trek: "The Man Trap" -- the First Episode Ever Broadcast.

 I have to admit when I watched the very first episode of Star Trek ever shown on television, there were lots of things I never noticed. First of all, I was six in September 1966. Second, my parents, though hardly perfect, were not racist or sexist, and didn’t mention certain defining features of the show that some today are in denial about.


Even before the opening credits, we see a Black woman officer sitting at the station we later learn is navigation. This of course is Lieutenant Uhura, who is more usually found at communications, where she will appear later in the episode.

Also before the opening credits, we see a non-human with pointed ears sitting in the captain’s chair in command of the ship while the captain is visiting the planet below. This is Lieutenant-Commander Spock, the ship’s first officer and chief science officer.

An alien man and a black woman, officers on the bridge of the starship Enterprise, a name packed with meaning a little more than twenty years after the end of the Second World War in the Pacific, a war whose bloody history was exacerbated by racial hatred on both sides, some of it prejudice, some of it arising because it is very easy to dehumanize an enemy who looks so different. The American aircraft carrier Enterprise had played a leading role throughout that war, even taking part in an attack on Tokyo in in February 1945.

Speaking of the war (sorry, Basil), another character debuts later in the episode, Lieutenant Sulu, who seems to work as a botanist. Although his ethnic background is not mentioned any more than Uhura’s or Spock’s, there would have been many in the audience that night who would have looked at him and immediately assumed him to be Japanese (as the character is later revealed to be). That would have raised a fair number of eyebrows. Even more surprising, Sulu is next seen on the bridge running security on the ship. In the final scene, Sulu is seen again on the bridge sitting at the helm, the station he will become most well known for.

In 1966, as I said, I was six years old. My parents and the parents of everyone in my generation had lived through the Second World War. So many had fought and suffered, lost friends and family. There was still great and widespread bitterness about the war. To put a Japanese officer in so prominent a position of authority on a television show was bold, just as it was bold to put a Black woman officer. By comparison, making an alien the second in command was minor.

One of the great ironies, of course, is that the actor who played Sulu, George Takei, is a Japanese-American. As a child he had been unjustly imprisoned along with thousands of other Japanese-Americans in concentration camps just because they were of Japanese descent. I don’t know how my parents felt about this in 1942, but in the 1960s they were teaching me what a disgraceful wrong our country had done to them. Over and over my father spoke of the extraordinary courage Japanese-American soldiers displayed when the government allowed them to enlist and fight in their own units in Europe. They were done wrong by their country, and did their country only right in return. And they were not the only ones. Nichelle Nichols could have told some stories, too.

When you look at this or other episodes of Star Trek (No bloody TOS, TNG, DS9, VGR — to paraphrase Mr. Scott), there are plenty of opportunities to shake our heads at things that wouldn’t fly today. The ridiculously short completely impractical uniform skirts worn by the women in Starfleet, and the insanely skimpy attire worn by the non-human yet still very enticingly human-passing alien women, costumes designed to look like they just might fall off, are only the beginning of things we could mention. The 1960s were poised between two worlds. Some were holding desperately onto the way things had been, and some had let go to reach out for what could be.

Finally, what is in some ways the most challenging and the most relevant aspect of that episode, is the interaction between Captain Kirk and Professor Crater. Crater is trying to protect “a creature,” which is the last of its kind, sentient, intelligent, and capable of love, but whose extreme need for salt to survive drives it to kill some of Kirk’s crew. The professor likens it to the American buffalo, of which there had been 50,000,000 or more circa 1800, but only a few thousand remained in North America by 1900. When Crater argues that the creature is just trying to survive, Kirk, who is just as desperate to protect his crew, replies:

“You bleed too much, Crater. You’re too pure and noble.”

In effect, Kirk has just called him “woke.”

Even so, after the creature has been killed attempting to kill Kirk, Spock sees Kirk looking pensive and sad. Approaching him, Spock says:

“Something wrong, Captain?”

With a rueful smile, Kirk replies:

“I was thinking about the buffalo, Mr. Spock.”

He, Spock, and McCoy exchange thoughtful looks, and the episode ends with Kirk ordering Sulu, now at the helm, to resume their journey, while Uhura works at communications in the background.

We’ll see this dynamic over and over again throughout the history of Star Trek in all its incarnations. The characters, who have already put certain attitudes behind them, are confronted by their need to do the same again in another context. This is what boldly going is all about. 

17 March 2026

"Fled from the Company" -- Frodo and Sam not looking back

At the beginning of Book 4, in the chapter called "The Taming of Sméagol," there's a beautifully subtle little touch, a single word that I've read countless times without catching its implications. Since the last time we saw Frodo and Sam is 200 very eventful pages ago, we can easily lose track of how little time has passed since Boromir tried to take the Ring and Frodo and Sam left all their companions behind. The drama of "The Breaking of the Fellowship" no longer stands out quite so prominently. For us. That is, for the readers. It's easy to find ourselves looking ahead, as Frodo and Sam do, as they stare out from the top of the Emyn Muil across the plain beyond which lies Mordor: 

‘What a fix!’ said Sam. ‘That’s the one place in all the lands we’ve ever heard of that we don’t want to see any closer; and that’s the one place we’re trying to get to! And that’s just where we can’t get, nohow.' (TT 4.i.603)

Gollum, too, has been following them, as they know. There may also be orcs about. And the bare hills of the Emyn Muil, which they haven't been able to find their way out of despite several days of trying, leave them feeling terribly exposed. A fix indeed. All of this draws our attention in to where they are and what they are doing. Frodo and Sam are so focused on where they are trying to go that they are no longer entirely sure of how long they've been wandering around the Emyn Muil.  

"It was the third evening since they had fled from the Company, as far as they could tell" (TT 4.i.603).

That word, fled, compresses all the drama of "The Breaking of the Fellowship"--Frodo's indecision, Boromir's attempt to compel Frodo to give him the Ring, Frodo's escape from him, his even more dangerous brush with the Eye of Sauron, the panic of the Company, the attack of the orcs--all this and more that Frodo and Sam don't know about. Of Boromir's recovery, his courageous attempt to save Merry and Pippin, and his death, they are entirely ignorant. For all they know, Boromir might be hunting them as well.

Let's look back, though, for just a moment at what Frodo had fled from:

Frodo rose to his feet. A great weariness was on him, but his will was firm and his heart lighter. He spoke aloud to himself. "I will do now what I must," he said. "This at least is plain: the evil of the Ring is already at work even in the Company, and the Ring must leave them before it does more harm. I will go alone. Some I cannot trust, and those I can trust are too dear to me: poor old Sam, and Merry and Pippin. Strider, too: his heart yearns for Minas Tirith, and he will be needed there, now Boromir has fallen into evil. I will go alone. At once."

(FR 2.x.401)

These are Frodo's thoughts as he thinks through the choice he must make. The Ring is not just a danger to him, but to his companions. We can even, I believe, see the Ring at work on him. He says "some I cannot trust." If he had said "one I cannot trust," it would have been perfectly clear whom he meant. But "some" is more than "one." Does he not trust Legolas and Gimli? They are the only members of the Company he does not name. "None" or "almost none" would have been more accurate and more honest. And it's the Company he is said to have "fled," not simply Boromir (or even "some" of his companions), which again would have been completely understandable. 

Not also that it could have said "left the Company," "(de)parted from the Company," "separated from the Company," "exited the Company," "abandoned the Company," or many other words with connotations that have nothing to do with escape. But the text doesn't choose a different word. No. It chooses fled.

Quite a fix indeed.

 





12 March 2026

As if the Story of Túrin Weren't Already Tragic Enough

While analyzing the death scenes of Nienor Níniel and Túrin in the chapter "Turambar and the Foalókë" in The Book of Lost Tales, I noticed that parts of the last words of each character seemed to be iambic verse. 

Before leaping to her death in a waterfall, Níniel addresses the river with a statement that begins and ends with the same sentence: "O waters of the forest whither do ye go?" I believe the text in between also scans as iambic with slight variations like an extra unstressed syllable or a very brief switch to trochees. 

For reference, an iamb or an iambic foot is two syllables long, the first unstressed, the second stressed. In the following example, I have indicated the stressed syllable with an acute accent:

Tomórrow ánd tomórrow ánd tomórrow

A trochee or a trochaic foot, which we'll also be looking at today, is the opposite of an iamb, a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed syllable. Trochees go fast. The word trochee derives from the Greek verb τρέχω, meaning run. Iambs walk; trochees run. Here's another example from Macbeth, but this time trochees:

Doúble, doúble toíl, and troúble

Fíre búrn and caúldron búbble

The prose text "Turambar and the Foalókë" reads :

“O waters of the forest whither do ye go? Wilt thou take Nienóri, Nienóri daughter of Úrin, child of woe? O ye white foams, would that ye might lave me clean—but deep, deep must be the waters that would wash my memory of this nameless curse. O bear me hence, far far away, where are the waters of the unremembering sea. O waters of the forest whither do ye go?” (LT II.109) 

Recast as verse, it might read: 

"O waters of the forest whither do ye go?
Wilt thou take Nienóri, Nienóri, daughter
of Úrin, child of woe? O ye white foams,
would that ye might lave me clean—but deep, deep must be
the waters that would wash my memory of this (5)
nameless curse. O bear me hence, far far away,
where are the waters of the unrememb'ring sea.
O waters of the forest whither do ye go?”

To begin with, I thought it was just the opening sentence, but the repetition of the same phrase in the closing sentence made me wonder about the words in between. After studying the scansion for a while I noticed that structuring it with six beats per line yielded eight full lines of what we might call iambic hexameter. Now in English we are far more used to iambic pentameter, which is thought to best reproduce the rhythm of the spoken language. The ancient Greeks, however, felt that what they called iambic trimeter accomplished this end. And? So? We count iambic feet differently than the Greeks did. For us it's one iamb per foot, and a line of verse composed of five iambs is iambic pentameter. The Greeks thought of an iambic foot as having two iambs. So a line of Greek iambic trimeter has the same number of beats as a line of English iambic hexameter. 

Iambic trimeter, as Tolkien well knew, is the standard form of verse for dialogue in Greek Tragedy. Since schoolboys were often required to translate English poetry into Greek or Latin verse, Tolkien had very likely translated lines of Shakespeare into Greek and set them in iambic trimeter. The story of Túrin and his family owes much to the story of Oedipus and his family. Tolkien said so himself, and his opinion of Greek Tragedy was clearly quite high (Letters² #131 p. 210; #156 p. 297). In this same section of "Turambar and the Foalókë" the character Tamar (Brandir) reproaches Túrin with the suicide of Nienor Níniel, saying that she died "blind with horror and with woe, desiring never to see thee again" (LT II.111). This very Sophoclean line recalls Oedipus who blinded himself so he would not have to see his children who were also his siblings in this world, or his wife who was also his mother in the next. 

Just because I can make the scansion work does not completely persuade me, however. Certain parts work better than others. What most inclines me to think that Tolkien was consciously mimicking Greek Tragic Trimeters in Nienor Níniel's final words is that Túrin's final words seem to be doing the same thing. First the prose: 

“Thee only have I now—slay me therefore and be swift, for life is a curse, and all my days are creeping foul, and all my deeds are vile, and all I love is dead."

The last twelve beats of this sentence can easily be seen as two lines of iambic trimeter:

"life ís a cúrse, and áll my dáys are creéping foúl,
and áll my deéds are víle, and áll I lóve is deád."

It does not surprise me in the least to think that Tolkien embraced this tragic form to enhance the last words of his most tragic characters. If he can draw inspiration from the tragedy of Oedipus Tyrannos, he can also draw inspiration from one of its most characteristic forms of verse.

10 March 2026

Gollum said, Sméagol said

Recently I was asked to present a 30 minute talk on the first five chapters of Book 4 of The Lord of the Rings. (When? Later in the summer. Where? That would be telling.) So, last night I was reading "The Taming of Sméagol" and "The Passage of the Marshes" and giving the matter some thought. I've thought about these chapters a lot over the years. In addition to being just so good they are essential for understanding Gollum, since Book IV is the reader's longest exposure to him.

A thought struck me as I was looking at the moment when Frodo starts calling Gollum Sméagol, after which Gollum begins using it to refer to himself. Even Sam uses it a few times. I wondered whether the narrator ever called him Sméagol when telling the story in his own voice. So, not in the speech or thoughts of the characters. Since Frodo is supposed to be the main writer of this story, what he does here might be revealing. 

I first searched for "Sméagol" plain and simple, and discovered 155 instances, not counting appendices, tables of contents, indices, etc. Scanning through these I didn't see a single instance where the narrator calls him Sméagol in direct narration. (The debate Sam overhears between Sméagol and Gollum not only represents Sam's thoughts, but also helps to distinguish for the reader which of them is speaking at a given moment.)

Without going too far down this rabbit hole, I conducted four more searches I thought could be useful. I searched:

  • "said Gollum"
  • "Gollum said"
  • "Sméagol said"
  • "said Sméagol"

The first, "said Gollum," appears forty-five times, all in Book IV. There's nothing unusual here. It's exactly what we might expect. 

The second, "Gollum said," is a bit trickier, since the search ignores punctuation. Of six results, only two represent the voice of the narrator.

  • 1.i.33: "Even if Gollum said the same once," said Bilbo
  • 3.iii.456: "Gollum, gollum!" said Pippin
  • 4.ii.624: Gollum said nothing to them -- spoken by the narrator
  • 4.iv.652: "Gollum!" said Sam
  • 4.ix.717: As Gollum said -- spoken by the narrator
  • 5.iv.815: "Gollum," said Pippin

The third, "Sméagol said" is much the same as the second and for the same reason. Of twelve occurrences, all in Book IV, the voice we hear is always Frodo's, Sam's, or Gollum's.

  • 4.i.616 "Sméagol," said Frodo
  • 4.i.618 "Sméagol," said Gollum
  • 4.ii.633 "But Sméagol said..." spoken by Gollum
  • 4.iii.637 "Sméagol said so" -- spoken by Gollum
  • 4.iv.655 "A present from Sméagol," said Sam
  • 4.vi.687 "Sméagol," said Frodo
  • 4.vi.687 "Sméagol," said Frodo
  • 4.vi.689 "Sméagol!" said Frodo
  • 4.viii.715 "Sméagol," said Gollum
  • 4.viii.715 "Sméagol," said Frodo
  • 4.ix.717 "Sméagol?" said Frodo
  • 4.ix.719 "Sméagol!" said Frodo

The fourth and last, "said Sméagol," is found just three times, all on 1.ii.53, when Gandalf is recounting for Frodo the conversation Sméagol had with Déagol just before he murdered him. It worth noting that Gandalf will call Gollum "Sméagol" six more times in this chapter of the The Lord of the Rings (1.ii.53, 56). Everywhere else he calls him Gollum. In this chapter, "The Shadow of the Past," Gandalf is trying to get Frodo to pity Sméagol before Frodo learns that Sméagol is Gollum.

Now I believe that, since the story of The Lord of the Rings claims to be written largely by Frodo, we should take that seriously enough to consider the implications of that assertion. This is not to say that we should think that no changes were made in later years long after Frodo and Sam were gone. But the pervasiveness of "said Gollum" versus the rarity of "said Sméagol," together with the narrator's exclusive use "Gollum" when speaking of this character, makes clear where the narrator stands on him. And this fits perfectly with the fact that Frodo may address him as "Sméagol" but, with only one exception, never speaks of him to others by any name but "Gollum."*


________________________________

The sole exception is when Frodo in Ithilien formally pledges to Faramir to take "this Sméagol" under his protection (TT 4.vi.690). The alternative was Gollum's execution.

Once again I am indebted to the indispensable James Tauber and The Digital Tolkien Project for their expertise and labor in the fields of Arda

02 March 2026

The Second Tolkien Conference Switzerland -- Announcement


The 2026 Tolkien Conference Switzerland, organized by the University of Zurich, the University of Lausanne, and Friedrich Schiller University Jena, will take place on Saturday, March 14, 2026, once again at the University of Zurich as a hybrid conference.

Sign up here


The 2026 topic is: 'Leadership in Tolkien's Middle-earth'. We have already confirmed several international high-profile speakers: 



As part of the supporting program, the two podcasters from 'Typisch Ravenclaw' will analyze and compare political systems in Middle-earth based on The Economist's Democracy Index in a live podcast (tbc).