The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
As I’m sure you can tell, this post was supposed to go up around Christmas time. It didn’t happen, but that’s life. I reread The Hobbit a few months ago and watched the movies about the same time, so I hope they are still a little fresh in my mind.
The Hobbit is a classic, beloved and enjoyed for years. It’s the prequel to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Lighter and more whimsical than the trilogy, it seems to be more of a fairy tale than a history. The hero of the story is as unexpected as his journey. Bilbo Baggins is a fusspot, to put it simply. He’s fond of the comforts of home and good food. He is a Hobbit, after all. But when a wizard shows up with a gaggle of dwarves, how can he not go with them?
Now, I’m not sure how this happened, but Peter Jackson managed to squeeze three 3 hour movies out of a book that’s about three hundred pages long, if that. I enjoy the movies, don’t get me wrong. Yes, there are many, many things that drive me over the edge sometimes, but they are still good movies.
What I liked:
The story was fleshed out more. The book seems to be the bare bones of what happened. Where did Gandalf go? What does a Hobbit hole look like? You know, little things like that.
I love the lushness of the landscape and the story. It’s so sweeping and dramatic.
I liked seeing the Dwarves and their wild, mad behavior.
Richard Armitage as Thorin Oakenshield. ‘Nuff said.
And Bilbo. Ah! I love him. His funny twitches, his loyalty, his bravery, and just him. He rocks, he really does.
What I didn’t like:
The whole Azog storyline. No, just no.
The Battle of the Five Armies. Again, just no. My eyes were raw after. Never again.