Рецензия на книгу

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  whiskyfake11 октября 2024 г.

  A Book for Kids. For Kids!

  As you probably know, Tolkien passed away quite some time ago, but interestingly, he became a prolific writer only after his death—most of his works were compiled from drafts and scattered notes by his son, Christopher. Who, by the way, has also passed away, but that still doesn't stop new books from appearing. I wasn't particularly eager to read Roverandom, though the title would occasionally pop up in Tolkien fan circles. I held off for, not to exaggerate, 15, maybe even 20 years, but eventually, the momentous day of my encounter with this story has come.

  What influenced my decision were two books: Tolkien's Letters and Tolkien: Author and Illustrator. There are many references to Roverandom in these works, especially in the parts about his illustrations.

  Now, onto the book itself. Dishonest reviewers often summarize the plot, but if someone is incapable of reading the book, why would they need to read a review of it? So I'll skip straight to my impressions, with a little bit of backstory.

  Tolkien's imagination was extraordinary, and Roverandom came to life as a kind of seed when he was explaining to his four-year-old son what happened to his favorite toy dog.

  From my own experience, I can say that even modern kids just love these kinds of stories—where something magical slips into our world and directly touches their lives. For example, the black cat that sleeps on the stairs—that’s a panther a wizard shrank down to cat size! It’s a pity I’m not a professor of philology; maybe I could have developed this idea further too.

  In my opinion, Roverandom has two main issues: first, it was written by a famous author, and second, it’s a story for very young children, roughly preschool age. Sure, the publishers included extensive commentary, where you can always find references to anything—from the voyages of St. Brendan to ancient Greek language—but that was Tolkien's internal linguistic game, something he enjoyed while weaving the story. I don’t think he could help himself from doing so.

  There’s not much more to say about the book, honestly. I didn’t even feel right giving it a rating, because it would be like putting a children's story for preschoolers on the same scale as The Silmarillion or The Lord of the Rings—and we certainly rate those, don’t we?

  So, in conclusion, just cover up the author's name on the cover with your finger, read the book to your children, and everything going be fine!

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