The Party Line: A Play in Two Acts

 The Party Line: A Play in Two Acts, written by Sheryl Longin and Roger L. Simon.  Criterion Books, 2012.  160 pages.  Softcover, $15.95.

 

The story of Walter Duranty is a far too-little-known chapter in the history of journalism and foreign relations. Duranty was a respected international reporter for the New York Times, and won a Pulitzer Prize for his coverage of life in the Soviet Union during the 1930’s. Duranty presented Stalin’s USSR as a successful and prosperous nation, and compared the communist system favorably to the Great Depression-afflicted United States. At this time, many whistleblowers and activists were trying to alert the world to the fact that the seeming success of the Soviet Union was largely a sham. Not only was Stalin’s government horribly mismanaging the country’s development, but in order to support other areas of the nation, they were deliberately provoking a famine in the Ukraine, resulting in the deaths of millions.

 

Though the famine, widely known today as the Holodomor, is acknowledged by many leading figures and politicians to be an act of genocide, there are vast numbers of Holodomor deniers in the present day, and there were plenty of deniers during the 1930’s as well. Duranty was one of the most prominent and influential figures who declared that there was no famine or malfeasance on the part on the Soviet government. Prominent media figures and policy makers accepted Duranty’s version of events, and people who attempted to reveal the truth were marginalized and derided.

 

Why did Duranty cover up the famine? There is no clear-cut answer, though the play does provide some good suggestions. Soviet sympathies may be one reason– publicizing the massive deaths from starvation would have seriously discredited the communist system. Additionally, journalists who reported the truth might have been banned from the Soviet Union, and therefore, might have been blackballed from their profession.

 

Notably, The Party Line is not a straight history of Duranty’s career, but instead is a mixture of fact and fantasia, jumping between the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Some of the characters, like Duranty, Fortuyn, and Crowley, are real. Others, like Duranty’s son, have been fictionalized to the point where they almost certainly have only a peripheral connection to the actual person. Other characters are purely the creation of Longin and Simon.

 

The Party Line addresses the effects of Duranty’s reporting, covering multiple storylines, including Duranty’s career, other journalists wrestling with the ethics of whether to report the truth or not, and a parallel storyline between Duranty’s son and the Dutch politician Pim Fortuyn. Fortuyn crusaded against the threats he perceived were threatening Dutch society, and in return was assassinated. Fortuyn and Duranty are contrasted as radically different men, one principled, the other unethical. I have some hesitations about the portrayal of Fortuyn– by depicting Fortuyn as a hero of conscience some of the destructive repercussions of his social and political policies are whitewashed– but the point of this play is to use Fortuyn as a metaphoric figure as to the dangers of political correctness. I do have some concerns about the presentation of Duranty’s son Michael– Longin and Simon claim to not know what happened to him, and the characterization and scenes featuring young Duranty are pure fiction, which makes me worry what might happen if the real Michael Duranty emerges to complain about his depiction in the play.

 

Chestertonians may be familiar with one supporting character– Aleister Crowley, the infamous Satanist and dabbler in the occult. Crowley was the one man that Chesterton flat-out refused to debate. Longtime American Chesterton Society member John Peterson once wrote that “Chesterton never stated his objection to meeting Crowley, but possibly he didn't want to lend credibility to Crowley's views by discussing them. Or, it might simply be that Crowley gave him the creeps.” The Crowley depicted in The Party Line will certainly give people the creeps, thanks to his engaging in orgiastic rituals and his consumption of bizarre and vile compounds.

 

This is a fascinating play. To the best of my knowledge, it has not yet been staged, so The Party Line exists only as a literary experience at this time, though that is likely to change in the near future. It’s an intelligent and carefully argumentative presentation of what happens when people sacrifice their principles, either for personal gain or simply out of cowardice. Additionally, it’s a perceptive look on how people are often more apt to accept a comfortable lie rather than a brutal truth.

 

I have wondered if someone would ever bring the Duranty story to the stage for years, and I cannot criticize Longin and Simon for depicting the event differently from the way I might have. I would have focused solely on Duranty, but The Party Line is interested in timeless truths throughout modern history, stressing recurring themes rather than set events. In any case, the tale is rich enough to provide fodder for multiple tellings.

 

There have been a couple of campaigns to have Duranty’s Pulitzer Prize revoked, but the Pulitzer Committee has refused to rescind the award, In response, the Walter Duranty Prizes for Mendacity in Journalism have been recently launched in order to target deliberate lies in reporting that threaten people’s lives and safety.

 

There have been some fierce debates amongst Chestertonians lately on whether it is acceptable to lie for a good cause. The Party Line argues that there is no such thing as a noble lie.

 

 

For more information, see http://www.newcriterion.com/posts.cfm/Announcing--strong-Criterion-Books-strong--and--i-The-Party-Line-i--6918.

 

This review first appeared in Gilbert!

The Devil and Karl Marx: Communism’s Long March of Death, Deception, and Infiltration

The Devil and Karl Marx: Communism’s Long March of Death, Deception, and Infiltration, by Paul Kengor. TAN Books, 2020. 552 pages. Hardcover, $29.95.

 

Victor Hugo once declared that “A stand can be made against invasion by an army; no stand can be made against invasion by an idea.” It’s a pithy insight with a fair amount of truth to it, but what happens when battalions use ideology as their primary weapons? Paul Kengor’s The Devil and Karl Marx is a history of communism’s war on religion, starting with the life of Marx and moving through the decades to elaborate on how organized communist planned to co-opt and eventually eradicate religion through various means of activism.

 

Kengor makes no attempt to present his narrative impartially. His disgust and anger towards Marx, communism in general, and its adherents is apparent on every page. This might hurt him with some readers, who could dismiss the book as a biased diatribe. To do so would be to ignore the often-overlooked historical record. Even readers with an extensive background knowledge of the last century and a half of political and intellectual history will almost certainly find a great deal of new information.

 

The early portions of the book focus on Marx’s personal and public lives, with Kengor taking frequent swipes at Marx’s work ethic, his lack of contact with actual members of the proletariat, his failings as a husband and father, and his shortcomings as a poet. A little-known aspect of Marx’s life is his relationship with the family servant, Helene “Lenchen” Demuth. Some sources, like Wikipedia, describe the details of Lenchen’s life very simply, stating that she worked for the Marx family and almost certainly bore a son by him. Kengor goes further, pointing out that while we may never know the precise nature of Lenchen’s relationship with Marx, she may have been a sex slave rather than a consenting lover to her employer. Furthermore, the lives of Marx’s children is presented in tragic detail, as Marx’s daughters died by suicide, one of whom seems to have been duped by a cruel husband who proposed that they take their lives together, only for him to fail to go through with it, essentially committing the perfect murder.

 

After presenting the Marx family as horrifically dark and dysfunctional, and addressing his embrace of atheism and the infatuation with diabolism reflected in his poetry, Kengor moves on to explaining how adherents of Marx attempted to propagate their cause by destroying religion. Some of the portions of the early chapters are stomach-turning in their frank descriptions of the brutality and twisted cruelty that were used to crush and humiliate believers. Gut-wrenching torture methods are described in detail. Later chapters focus on how communist-backed organizations actively recruited people of faith and clergy in the hopes of adding credence to their activism, and to try to convert those individuals to atheism. 

 

Figures such as Earl Browder, William Z. Foster, Manning Johnson, Bella Dodd, and many others are profiled. Some of them were active communists for most of their adult lives, and others rejected their secular faith later in life and recanted their previous affiliations. Communist attempts to bend universities and seminaries to their mindsets are explored, as are the careers of many activists and the devastating effects their actions had on innocent people and society in general.

 

Ultimately, this book covers so much ground that it seems to be more of an introduction to the subject than a definitive history. It could very well have been turned into three separate books, each one going into much more detail in expanded format. The first volume of the trilogy could have focused on Marx’s personal life and family, the second could have looked at communist activists attacking religion in Europe, and the third could have focused on communist attempts to infiltrate religious institutions in America.

 

Kengor’s argument that much of today’s intellectual and social structure has been heavily influenced or deliberately warped by communism is convincing, but more is needed to explain how anti-communists can work to uproot such influence. Describing some of the horrors recounted in this book could help, but a counter-ideology is needed. Chestertonians, for example, need to provide a coherent and thorough vision of their man’s philosophy and worldview in order to oppose Marxism effectively. Stressing the atrocities of communism and the vileness of Karl Marx’s person behavior will also help.

 

Returning to the Hugo quote that introduced this review, Kengor indirectly makes the point that the only stand to make against invasion by an idea is a counter-attack with an alternative idea, strengthened by facts. Kengor’s book makes an excellent case that the best way to counteract communism, the best way to attack communism is to publicize the history of communism, the devastation it has caused, and the tactics used to propagate it.  

 

 

–Chris Chan

This review first appeared in Gilbert!

Ordinary Superheroes and A Stitch in Space

Christopher Lansdown has recently written two very different but similarly themed novels, Ordinary Superheroes and A Stitch in Space. The first focuses on a bunch of people with typical problems but exceptional abilities who are out to save the world from a powerful destructive force, and the second centers around on priest’s journey to look after souls on the far edge of the galaxy.

 

Ordinary Superheroes is a good-hearted romp. As the story opens, we meet Jack, Nick, and Jane, three young roommates in New York who just happen to the superheroes Mega Ninja, Mockingbird, and Mr. Macho. The alias “Mr. Macho” is an unwanted one, obtained through unfortunate yet humorous means, and this reflects the common trope that preternatural abilities are as much curse as blessing. Over the course of the novel, the superheroes are given a magical mission to prevent a horrible villain from wreaking havoc, blending adventure scenes with self-discovery. 

 

Religious themes play significant roles in both novels. In some ways, Ordinary Superheroes, which deals with religious themes in far less overt manners, incorporates religion better into its narrative. In one crucial scene, one of the heroes is forced to reexamine her beliefs about religion, and we learn that she had lived under the presumption that Jesus was just another superhero who had lived a couple of millennia earlier. The revelation that divine forces exists severely shakes up her worldview.

 

Discussions of theology are far more prominent in A Stitch in Space, where nearly half the book is devoted to explanations of what Christianity is– and isn’t, along with defenses and explanations of religion. In A Stitch in Space, Fr. Xris is sent to a distant planet to minister to souls on the final frontier, and along the way he has a lot of in-depth conversations about faith and theology in between attacks by space pirates. Some readers may find the long elucidations didactic, although Fr. Xris serves as a far more effective and intelligent means of conveying information about Christianity than is commonly found when Hollywood tries to allow the faithful to explain their religion… and fails miserably. A Stitch in Space  serves as an effective work of apologetics, though it often puts religious debate over narrative action.

 

Notably, Lansdown’s introductions and postscripts are particularly interesting because they provide insight into his personal philosophies and views on literature.  They should not be overlooked at the end of the novels.  In one addendum to Ordinary Superheroes, Lansdown states that “Fiction is a wonderful thing, and like all wonderful things, it is dangerous precisely in proportion to its virtues. At its best, fiction allows us to live, in our imaginations, in a better world than the one that we do. I don't necesarily mean a more comfortable world; indeed as much as we may be addicted to comfort in modern society, I think any lover of adventure stories would agree that as scary as the idea is, comfort and happiness are to some degree enemies, or at least will be until we're better than we are now. We live in a fallen world, which non-christians can simply call an imperfect world, and fiction allows us to at least glimpse shadows of what the world should be like. When it is working correctly, it lifts us up and inspires us to make our world more like what it should be. When it goes wrong, it can degenerate into mere escapism. Rather than inspiring us to live our lives better, it can become a way of not living our lives at all, of trying to live someone else's life instead of our own.” 

 

Lansdown comes across as a man who really loves books and has a lot of great ideas.  He also does an excellent job of explaining his goals in writing and the messages he is trying to convey, saying:

 

“Though the main character in this work does a fair amount of what might be called evangelization, this novel is in no way intended to be a manual for evangelization. Evangelization must always be tailored to the individual, and Fr. Xris's interactions with each person are meant for that person alone. 

 

If one does want to draw lessons, I suggest that they be the general lessons which are probably obvious before reading this work: Become very familiar not only with the faith but also with the questions people tend to have about the faith. Be extremely patient. Be as good as you can possibly be in everything that you do.”

 

Lansdown’s books are all about ideas, centered around people with a lot of heart and moral courage. These books are very different in topic and style, and it will be interesting to see what he writes next.

This review first appeared in Gilbert!

Vatican Secret Archives

Vatican Secret Archives: Unknown Pages of Church History, by Grzegorz Górny and Janusz Rosikon. Ignatius Press, 2020. 370 pages. Hardcover, $34.95.

 

Information is an underrated resource, and any attempt to explore the truth of the past requires the preservation of historical documents. The Vatican houses one of the largest and oldest archives in the world. The Catholic Church has been saving written materials for two thousand years, though over the centuries the Vatican Archives have been sacked, with many of the contents being destroyed by military forces.  Despite the gaps in the record, the Vatican Archives contain a priceless treasure trove of facts about the past.

 

For a long time, the contents of the archives have only been accessible by a handful of select researchers, but in recent decades increasing numbers of individuals have been allowed access. Grzegorz Górny and Janusz Rosikon have created a compelling and fascinating look into the Vatican Archives, profiling collections from several major events in Church history, focusing on cases that are both controversial and misunderstood. 

 

The Crusades, Galileo, the Spanish Inquisition, Pope Pius XII and the Holocaust, the Knights Templar, the Church in the New World, and the French Revolution are among the subjects covered by the book.  Each of these chapters takes a topic, provides an overview of the standard historical assessment of the era, profiles some of the most notable archival holdings on the subject, interviews some prominent scholars on the topic, and explains how the historical evidence challenges the prevalent historical narrative of the era.

 

The documents in the book tend to improve the Church’s image on many topics. The atrocities against the Church during the French Revolution are revealed, evidence exonerating Pius XII is produced, outright lies about the Inquisition are debunked, and many other documents are produced in order to clear the Church of common allegations of malfeasance, or at least to put certain decisions into historical context. 

 

This book is not a blind defense of everything the Church has ever done. Mistakes such as the creation of the Index of Forbidden Books are criticized, though the reasons for their creation are explained. Often good intentions did not lead to positive results, some evildoers are identified, and Pope John Paul II’s interest in the Galileo case showed the pontiff’s desire to make amends, though the narrative of the case has been skewed and littered with false information over the years. In each chapter, there’s at least one interesting interview with a historian whose opinions on an historical event were given deeper nuance or in some cases were radically altered after delving into the Vatican Archives and studying the evidence held there.

 

Additionally, the book is just beautiful. It’s full of gorgeous photographs and replicas of rare documents, maps, and artifacts. It can serve as a coffee table book, though it’s worth more than It’s not just a dry scholarly study. It’s written in a readable and accessible manner, though at times it’s structured like a textbook, so readers will have to interrupt the general narrative in order to read in-depth profiles of specialized aspects of the topic. 

 

Readers who already know a great deal about the eras studied will be familiar with much of the provided information, but the rare glimpse into the long-hidden primary sources makes Vatican Secret Archives required reading for anybody with an interest in Church history. 

–Chris Chan

This review was first published in Gilbert! Magazine.

An Eye For Others: Dorothy Day, Journalist: 1916-1917

An Eye For Others: Dorothy Day, Journalist: 1916-1917, compiled and edited by Tom McDonough.  Clemency Press, 2016.  202 pages.  Softcover, $16.95.

 

An Eye For Others is an edited and annotated anthology of some notable articles by Dorothy Day, written as she was starting her career as a journalist. Tom McDonough has collected some notable works from her first two years writing for The New York Call, focusing on assorted social issues.

 

The book opens with a quote from Pope Francis’ address to the United States Congress, where he said that “A nation can be considered great when it… strives for justice and the cause of the oppressed, as Dorothy Day did by her tireless work.”  McDonough follows up this quote by writing, “Dorothy Day is identified with the radical embrace of Christ’s message. Her zeal and action for truth, justice and peace sets an example for us, and her affirmation of the dignity of every person, even the most downtrodden, puts us to shame.  This book highlights a young Dorothy Day’s compassion for the working poor and her lifelong dissent against the disordered industrial development in which she grew up and which is still with us.”

 

This anthology is filled with excerpts from Day’s reporting over the course of two years.  Supplemented with photographs and descriptive/explanatory passages from McDonough, the book provides an invaluable look at the social issues and forces that shaped Day’s mindset, though it should be noted that this is before Day embraced Catholicism. McDonough points out that, “Although at this point in her life Dorothy did not consider herself a Christian, she was deeply influenced by the spirit of the Gospel, though she looked in vain for exemplars of gospel values. [Day remarked,] “People were generally indifferent to religion. They were neither hot nor cold.  They were the tepid, the materialistic, who hoped that by Sunday churchgoing they would be taking care of the afterlife, if there were an afterlife. Meanwhile they would get everything they could in this.””

 

The news from the Call is open about its bias. Coverage of wealthy is particularly critical, such as in its coverage of the “Astor baby,” whose father famously died on the Titanic, and whose widowed mother was given an allowance to raise the baby which could have supported hundreds of children, and yet she appealed for a sharp raise in funding because she claimed she needed more to raise her son.

 

Day covered a wide variety of topics affecting poor Americans.  Early in the book, selections from her coverage of the working poor are quoted. Her use of imagery is particularly compelling, as she describes what it is like to live on an extremely limited budget, and being chastised by social workers for spending too much money on fruit and other staple foods, and straying for the set budget people who believed that they knew best had set for the poor. Details of how bleak life can get when one has to focus all of one’s efforts on survival and one has no time to enjoy one’s time on earth are particularly effectively depicted by Day.

 

Another major theme is the start of what would become known as the First World War. Day was an ardent pacifist, and she saw Wilson’s “He kept us out of the war” mantra as a self-serving bit of duplicity, as the United States was inexorably drawn into the conflict in Europe. Interestingly, we learn that Day never cast a vote in her life, because she felt it would be an immoral participation in the perpetuation injustice.

 

Numerous strips from The New Adventures of Henry Dubb are included.  The Henry Dubb comic strips are meant to point out social injustices, though perhaps the passing of a century has probably changed tastes in humor, because they are not particularly funny, and are generally heavy-handed. The problem with including the Dubb strips is that to fit them in the book, they are shrunk down to almost nothing, so the images are almost blurred and the dialogue is unreadable, so McDonough includes a transcript of the dialogue beneath each strip.  An unclear image is no good– perhaps it might have been better if the strips were included vertically in an appendix, because in that position it would be a lot easier to read the strips.

 

Late in the book, one chapter shows that Day’s reporting was not always reliable. This chapter recounts some of the coverage of Margaret Sanger and her sister, the latter being in jail for disseminating information on contraception. At the start of the chapter, McDonough reveals that most of what was reported by Day was untrue or distorted– Sanger’s sister was in good health and was never in any danger of death from her purported hunger strike. Sanger was apparently feeding the press false information, and the press was aware of it and happily printed the lies in support of the contraceptive movement. A quote seems to indicate that Day felt guilty about lying in her stories, but that her management at the newspaper insisted that she print the false information. This clashes with an earlier quote where she argued with her editor until he included details on the bedbugs that plagued single women, and it unfortunately calls the accuracy of all of her other reporting into question.

 

Though it only covers a sliver of Day’s life, this book provides a valuable look at Day’s early career and formative influences. 

This review was originally published in Gilbert Magazine.

The Tumbler of God: Chesterton as Mystic

The Tumbler of God: Chesterton as Mystic, by Fr. Robert Wild.  Justin Press, 2012. 273 pages.  No price information available at this time. 

 

 

There are many ways to look at Chesterton’s career and work: as a theologian, as a mystery writer, as an economist, as an artist, as a controversialist, as a literary critic, and as any of dozens of other possibilities. The Tumbler of God looks at Chesterton as a mystic. Some religious writers focus their arguments primarily on logic, historical fact, or impassioned argument. Wild describes Chesterton as a mystic because he seems to possess the ability to describe revealed truths through his writing.

 

In his introduction, Wild writes that, “One of the tests of sanctity is said to be a contagious happiness and inner peace. Chesterton had his share of sorrows and of illness, and his darker moments, but more than most people he was imbued with a kind of unpretentious beatitude that tended to convey itself to those around him. The writer Franz Kafka said of Chesterton, “He is so happy one might almost think he had discovered God.” Indeed he had, and he was doing his best to live in the light of that discovery. What was his “secret”? It was to love the splendour of the real, and to live in adulthood the innocence and wonder of the child who sees everything for the first time. The Gospel tells us we must become again like little children in order to enter the kingdom. Chesterton shows us how.”

 

Chesterton certainly had a knack for predicting future trends and tragedies. Catholic blogger and commentator Mark Shea often goes so far as to call him “the Prophet Chesterton.” Chesterton was often mocked during his lifetime for his beliefs about the trajectory of the world, ranging from issues as diverse as the state of the family to the rise of Nazism, yet future events surprisingly often proved him right.

 

Even the dodgiest fake psychic makes some correct guesses on occasion, but Wild observes that Chesterton’s accuracy seems to be too much to be attributed to pure perceptiveness or intelligent discernment or even luck. There seems to be a force of holy grace behind his pronouncements. Wild notes there are many objections to such a perspective on Chesterton’s life and works, such as one anonymous commentator’s belief that a true mystic needs to endure a certain level of worldly suffering that Chesterton never faced, but Wild argues that there are no rigid criterions for divine revelation. 

 

Despite some rather uncomfortable health problems, Chesterton clearly never endured prolonged starvation, and he knew the pleasures of a comfortable home and loving wife, and he frequently indulged in bacon and beer. This is not the typical template for a mystic, but Chesterton himself once proclaimed that “We need a new kind of saint.” Wild amends this quote by positing that “We need a new kind of mystic,” and that Chesterton is precisely the sort of new mystic we need.  One cannot prove definitively that Chesterton was a mystic– there are no instruments or chemical tests that can prove anything like that, but his words, life, and influence can bolster this view.

 

The book is divided into four main sections. The first, “Establishing Chesterton’s Mysticism,” explores Chesterton the man and his works.  The second, “True Mystics, or Landing on One’s Feet,” looks at some other people blessed by mystical revelation, such as St. Francis of Assisi, St. Thomas Aquinas, and George McDonald. The third section, “Some Mystics Who Landed on Their Heads,” focuses on some prominent people who were blessed with great wisdom and talent, but who, for various reasons, did not parlay those skills into sanctity or proved to be false mystics, such as William Blake, Leo Tolstoy, and Aldous Huxley. The fourth and final part, “The Sons of God Shouting for Joy,” delves further into the man who was Chesterton, starting with the understudied “dark night of Chesterton’s soul” consisting of the tragedies and tribulations of Chesterton’s later years, and culminating in a deeper critique of what makes saints and mystics.

 

The movement for Chesterton’s canonization continues, and it seems likely that if a widespread investigation into his life and legacy is launched, that this book will become an oft-consulted resource, since Wild’s research carefully studies Chesterton’s direct relationship with divine grace. The number of monographs on Chesterton has exploded in recent years, but Chesterton is an author vast enough to warrant an enormous corpus of criticism. Wild’s fascinating perspective is a welcome addition to the enlivening field of Chestertonian studies.

This review first appeared in Gilbert! Magazine.

The Hobbit Party: The Vision of Freedom That Tolkien Got, and the West Forgot

Bringing Politics to the Shire

By Chris Chan

 

The Hobbit Party: The Vision of Freedom That Tolkien Got, and the West Forgot, written by Jay Richards and Jonathan Witt.  Ignatius Press, 2014.  232 pages.  Hardcover, $21.95.

 

In recent years, there have been a great deal of new studies about the works of J.R.R. Tolkien and the ideas inside of them, ranging from Joseph Pearce’s superlative studies emphasizing the religious aspects of the author’s worldview, to critiques of Tolkien’s use of classical mythology. It seems unavoidable that some authors would attempt to impose a certain political perspective on Middle-earth. In the past, some authors have attempted to classify Tolkein’s work as Marxist, a perspective that is easily refuted by the author’s own writings. Currently, an attempt is being made to link Tolkien to general policies of small government. Jay Richards and Jonathan Witt use The Hobbit Party to argue that Tolkien’s work is driven by a sharp criticism of government overreach. The Hobbit Party seeks to emphasize the political aspects of Tolkien’s work, and the results are always interesting, even though some Chestertonians may find various points to argue with in the authors’ analysis.

 

Richards and Witt make a lot of interesting points, but some of their best work comes not when they are advancing their own arguments but when they are disproving other writer’s perspectives. It doesn’t hurt that many of their opponents’ theses are completely ridiculous. Given the popularity of Tolkien amongst New Age fans and the absence of overt Christianity in his works, it is at least understandable that some people might assume that the Lord of the Rings was set in a pagan world, but Richards and Witt quote extensively from Tolkien’s personal writings, emphasizing Tolkien’s Catholicism and his reasons for excising religion from The Lord of the Rings. More ludicrous are authors cited in The Hobbit Party who content that Tolkien’s work exhibits nothing more than moral relativism, with no distinction between “good” and “evil.” After reading the comparative of analysis of Tolkien criticism, it seems like people writing about the messages in Tolkien tend to impose their own preferred worldviews and opinions upon the beloved author’s work, and though Richards and Witt make some compelling arguments, one can’t help but get the sense that The Hobbit Party  may be suffering from a similar issue, where the critics see Tolkien as a reflection of their own mentalities.

 

It should be made absolutely clear that no one should read The Hobbit Party without reading The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and the short tale “Leaf By Niggle,” all of which are summarized in the book. In any case, most of Richards and Witt’s work is impossible to appreciate if the reader is not familiar with the original source material.

 

Perhaps the most eyebrow-raising aspect of Richards and Witt’s critique of Tolkien– at least for Chesterton fans– is their blunt assertion that Tolkien’s depiction of the Shire was not meant to be an endorsement of the Distributism of Belloc and Chesterton, and indeed, Richards and Witt spend a great deal of time attacking Distributism for being– in their opinion– unrealistic, based upon a misrepresentation of history, and ultimately self-defeating. Dale Ahlquist himself is mentioned and singled out for criticism, particularly his belief that people with large families ought to receive higher wages than those who do not. This review is not going to enter the debate on the pros and cons of Distributism, but it would be interesting to see critics with a more thorough understanding of Chestertonian economics read and review Richards and Witt’s book and provide a counterpoint to the arguments promoted in The Hobbit Party.

 

This is a book with passionate feeling behind it, and it is also an extensively researched and well-organized argument. At the same time, there is something particularly discomforting about using Tolkien to spearhead a political movement when the author himself disliked literature being used as allegory and was annoyed by novels that promoted a ham-fisted agenda. The authors are clearly annoyed by the abuses of bureaucracy that they have experienced in their personal lives, and they seem to take a great deal of pleasure in using Tolkien’s narrative in bolster their own arguments. 

 

The Hobbit Party has earned a place in the comparative criticism of Tolkien, but it is unlikely to be the final word on the politics and the economic worldview of the author.

This review was first published in Gilbert!