ACT Reading Practice Test 43

HUMANITIES: J.R.R. Tolkien and Me

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, better known as J.R.R. Tolkien, was many things in his long life, including philologist, writer, and university professor. Of course, today, most people remember him as the

Line 5 author of The Lord of the Rings—a monumental work that became an epic film. A friend introduced me to Tolkien’s writings when I was 10 years old. Aileen gave me a copy of The Hobbit, and told me her father was reading The Lord

10 of the Rings to her and her brother at the dinner table every night after the family had finished eating. I read The Hobbit and was hooked. By the time I was 14, I had read every piece of fiction Tolkien had published. The more I read, the more fascinated I became

15 with not only the world Tolkien had created, but with the man himself. I began to dream of meeting Tolkien. I imagined someday traveling to Oxford University, where he had been a professor of English Language and Literature, and somehow finding the words to tell

20 him how meaningful his writings had been for me. But, growing up in the Midwest, the possibility of traveling to England seemed very remote. Then I discovered that Tolkien had died years before I’d even started reading The Hobbit. I forgot about my dream

25 and got down to the business of school and sports and college applications. I started college as a chemistry major, but by my sophomore year, I was major-less. Somehow, by my junior year, I was accepted into the Honors 30 English program. This introduced me to the Medieval and Renaissance Collegium (MARC). The director of MARC thought I would be a perfect fit for a new diploma program he was developing—an interim program between undergraduate and graduate work.

35 I applied, was accepted, and found myself faced with my old dream: I was headed to England—to Oxford University, the home of my favorite author! Oxford isn’t set up like most American universities. It’s not a single uniform entity. Instead, it’s a

40 collection of 39 independent colleges, each with its own internal structure and activities, with an overlying administration that conducts examinations and confers degrees. Tolkien, for example, had been a professor at

45 Merton College. His close friend, C.S. Lewis, taught at Magdalen College (pronounced: Mawdlin). Most students identify with their college, not with the university. This means that pretty much anyone there wearing an Oxford University sweatshirt is a tourist.

50 I loved Oxford. I loved the tiny streets and the way the trees hid the modern shop fronts, showing only the medieval towers from the rolling hills of a nearby park. Even more, I loved the sense of living history—the way the children would play carelessly under towering

55 trees among centuries-old tombstones in the back-yards of churches, or the stories our housekeeper would tell of Lawrence of Arabia’s ghost who, apparently, lived in our own quarters. When inexplicable drafts would sweep through my room, our housekeeper swore it was

60 Lawrence. I loved walking every Tuesday on my way to my folklore tutorial, past the pub—The Eagle and the Child—where Tolkien met with his best friends to discuss their ideas for writing. The sign on the pub allegedly was the inspiration for Bilbo’s flight with the

65 Giant Eagles. Best of all, I had a professor who had actually known J.R.R. Tolkien himself. Sr. Benedicta was a very smart but very kindly, elderly nun. She was no slouch as an academic and had published several highly regarded books in her

70 field. As a colleague, she had spent time with Tolkien when she was newly hired at St. Stephen’s College. One day, when she had asked me how I liked studying at Oxford, I decided to tell her about my dream. I told her how, when I was a child, I had wanted so badly

75 to meet Tolkien. I had vividly imagined traveling to Oxford, finding his little cottage, passing through the picket fence, past the rose bushes, to finally knock at the great man’s door. I had even imagined him opening it and looking at me. I just could never, ever, think of

80 anything to say that didn’t make me feel like a complete idiot. Sr. Benedicta smiled indulgently at me for a moment, and then said, “He would have encouraged that feeling.” Apparently, most people have this

85 impression of Tolkien as a gentle, grandfatherly sort of man, but, unless you were his grandchild, that wasn’t actually the case. In person, he was frequently severe and not terribly friendly. I suppose it probably made him a better professor. In the end, I was very glad

90 I finally made my pilgrimage to Oxford, but considered it for the best that I never had a chance to thank J.R.R. Tolkien in person.