The Hobbit (Movie Tie-in Edition) (Pre-Lord of the Rings) マスマーケット – イラスト付き, 2012/9/18
The enchanting prequel to The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit is the classic fantasy that inspired Peter Jackson’s major motion picture trilogy
When Thorin Oakenshield and his band of dwarves embark upon a dangerous quest to reclaim the hoard of gold stolen from them by the evil dragon Smaug, Gandalf the wizard suggests an unlikely accomplice: Bilbo Baggins, an unassuming Hobbit dwelling in peaceful Hobbiton.
Along the way, the company faces trolls, goblins, giant spiders, and worse. But as they journey from the wonders of Rivendell to the terrors of Mirkwood and beyond, Bilbo will find that there is more to him than anyone—himself included—ever dreamed. Unexpected qualities of courage and cunning, and a love of adventure, propel Bilbo toward his great destiny . . . a destiny that waits in the dark caverns beneath the Misty Mountains, where a twisted creature known as Gollum jealously guards a precious magic ring.
© New Line Productions, Inc. All rights reserved. THE HOBBIT: AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY and the names of the characters, items, events and places therein are trademarks of The Saul Zaentz Company d/b/a Middle-earth Enterprises under license to New Line Productions, Inc.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill—The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden, and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.
This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours’ respect, but he gained—well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.
The mother of our particular hobbit—what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit—of Bilbo Baggins, that is—was the famous Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of The Hill. It was often said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbitlike about them, and once in a while members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures. They discreetly disappeared, and the family hushed it up; but the fact remained that the Tooks were not as respectable as the Bagginses, though they were undoubtedly richer.
Not that Belladonna Took ever had any adventures after she became Mrs Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo’s father, built the most luxurious hobbit-hole for her (and partly with her money) that was to be found either under The Hill or over The Hill or across The Water, and there they remained to the end of their days. Still it is probable that Bilbo, her only son, although he looked and behaved exactly like a second edition of his solid and comfortable father, got something a bit queer in his make-up from the Took side, something that only waited for a chance to come out. The chance never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, being about fifty years old or so, and living in the beautiful hobbit-hole built by his father, which I have just described for you, until he had in fact apparently settled down immovably.
By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed)—Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like. He had been away over The Hill and across The Water on businesses of his own since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls.
All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which his long white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.
“Good morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat.
“What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”
“All of them at once,” said Bilbo. “And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There’s no hurry, we have all the day before us!” Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill.
“Very pretty!” said Gandalf. “But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.”
“I should think so—in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them,” said our Mr Baggins, and stuck one thumb behind his braces, and blew out another even bigger smoke-ring. Then he took out his morning letters, and began to read, pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move. He stood leaning on his stick and gazing at the hobbit without saying anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross.
“Good morning!” he said at last. “We don’t want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water.” By this he meant that the conversation was at an end.
“What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!” said Gandalf. “Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won’t be good till I move off.”
“Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don’t think I know your name?”
“Yes, yes, my dear sir—and I do know your name, Mr Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don’t remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!”
“Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows’ sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” You will notice already that Mr Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. “Dear me!” he went on. “Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures? Anything from climbing trees to visiting elves—or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter—I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business.”
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born on January 3, 1892, in Bloemfontein, South Africa. After serving in World War I, he embarked upon a distinguished academic career and was recognized as one of the finest philologists in the world. He was a professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford, a fellow of Pembroke College, and a fellow of Merton College until his retirement in 1959. He is, however, beloved throughout the world as the creator of Middle-earth and author of such classic works as The Hobbit andThe Lord of the Rings. He died on September 2, 1973, at the age of eighty-one.
- 出版社 : Del Rey; Media tie-in版 (2012/9/18)
- 発売日 : 2012/9/18
- 言語 : 英語
- マスマーケット : 320ページ
- ISBN-10 : 0345534832
- ISBN-13 : 978-0345534835
- 対象読者年齢 : 12 ～ 17 歳
- 寸法 : 10.62 x 2.13 x 17.42 cm
- Amazon 売れ筋ランキング: - 18,600位洋書 (の売れ筋ランキングを見る洋書)
The Lord of the Ringsよりも展開が速いので読みやすく、
私は最近The Lord of the Ringsを読み終えましたが、想像以上に
One of my favourite genres seems to have gone to the wargs in the last few years. The rot probably started when J.K. Rowling introduced a new generation of young people to the joys of fantasy fiction. Standards dropped and social media helped create huge fandoms, and cult like followers, loyal to the brand. Fan fiction has also allowed anyone, no matter the talent, to write a "book" based on any intellectual property they fancy. Then Twilight happened and that was the beginning of the end. Publishers saw the kind of drivel that could make them rich and the Young Adult Fantasy genre was ripe for the picking. It began to move towards a new type of story, appealing to a new audience and asking a new question.
"What if Fantasy but with a girl one?"
Alongside the Strong-Female-Character™ protagonist, this new normal often contains a sprinkling of the following; "diversity*", some unsubtle social commentary, a patriarchal villain and most importantly, a poorly written, chemistry free romance with a handsome boy/angel/girl/minority/vampire/furry/other** that takes up half the book, often causing the plot to grind to a halt so the perfect lovers can stare passionately at each other for 50 pages. Bonus points for inserting a third wheel to create some false tension and so fans can pick a team.
After all, these books are written primarily for teenage girls, by former teenage girls***. Then there are the hordes of twenty-something women that receive advanced review copies and post their reviews on Goodreads****. These Goodreads girls, as I shall call them, might not be able to make a book successful, but they surely hold sway with publishers and more importantly, the content they publish. For it is said that "those who control the review copies, control the genre".
Thank Tolkien then, for the classics, and for the sexless, romance free world of The Hobbit. Although not entirely romance free as this book contains a beautiful relationship between a Gollum and his precious. Then there's the love between a Hobbit and his home, his breakfast/second breakfast/lunch/afternoon tea/supper/dinner/elevenses and his weed. Then finally there's the relationship between a dragon and/or a dwarf, and his treasure.
I'd take that superficial love over all the beautiful-perfect-people-fall-in-love-because-they're-both-beautiful-and-perfect-and-sometimes-there's-a-faux-love-triangle dross, that's infected the YA Fantasy genre since Twilight first ruined the word twilight.
I never thought I'd be pining for the days of Hunger Games knock-offs, but here we are.
But what of The Hobbit, you ask? Well, it's one of the finest young adult books ever written. At it's heart, The Hobbit is an adventure story. THE adventure story really. In fact, it's so jam packed with adventure, there's very little time for character development. Bilbo gets the lion's share and it's his adventure so I can't really grumble too much about the rather bland companions. Besides, there's so many wonderful things crammed into this short novel, it's never anything less than an entertaining page turner.
I truly envy any child who has yet to experience The Hobbit in book form as they read -or are read to- about Bilbo Baggins, dwarven guests, pipe smoking wizards, singing elves, hungry trolls, goblin caves, tricksy riddles, magic rings, eagle saviours, shape-shifting men, murky forests, giant spiders, prison breaks, barrel riding, secret doorways, greedy dragons, brave bowmen, brave hobbits, great battles and most of all, burglary. Saviour this book. Read it to your kids and hope it inspires them to read more, and maybe even to write. The beginnings of the next Fantasy classic might be this one story away... Someone has to drag the genre back from the brink.
If, like me, you have the stunted, feeble arms of a mammalian T-Rex, then you can listen to The Hobbit on audiobook, and it is a fine way to experience this most excellent of adventures. This review is based on the rather wonderful recording by Andy "CGI" Serkis. Riddles in the dark is even more memorable with the voice of Gollum™ and the whole thing is a joy to listen to.
I can't say anymore really, just read it if you haven't. There are still quality YA fantasy books to be found, even if you have to go 'there and back again' to find them.
* Black, trans and/or lesbian minorities -in order of perceived oppression by the American online- are the click generating hashtags of the moment. Make said minority the main character for more critical acclaim but less commercial gain. The readers might claim to be allies who want to read more books from a none cis-hetero perspective, but what they really, really want is a book in which the straight, white, female protagonist (them), gets a beautiful, shiny boy.
** But mostly boys, because that's hot insert-self fan fiction in the making.
*** Who may have started out writing terrible fan fiction. I blame Twilight, fifty shades of grey and low standards of literacy for this.
**** They're also liable to have Instagram accounts full of pictures of books next to foodstuffs, candles (dangerous), flora (not the marge), bedding and Apple products. The book lovers lifestyle is obviously lots of reading in bed by candlelight, surrounded by houseplants, munching on snacks and incessantly checking ones social media
Having watched the three Hobbit films a few years back, and having only a vague recollection of their events, I was unsure what to expect when I started this book, needless to say I thoroughly enjoyed it. I love reading classical literature that has this beautiful old-timey English and the Hobbit was no exception, the wonder and pureness of it never fails to transport me into days gone by.
Bilbo is a funny, likeable character who’s thoughts actions and conversations are so wonderfully innocent that I immediately fell in love with him. His character evolution throughout the book made reading this a true delight. My only complaint is that I didn’t read this sooner.
It really isn’t difficult to see why this book became a classic and I honestly believe that regardless of your age, knowledge of middle-earth or affinity for the fantasy genre, there’s something that everyone can take away from reading this.
— 1.1. Esta é uma avaliação da edição ilustrada para Kindle, que comprei por R$ 7,00.
— 1.2. Embora eu não tenha um conhecimento profundo da gramática inglesa, creio poder afirmar que a edição é correta, sem falhas significativas de revisão.
— 1.3. O e-book é ilustrado, mas suas bonitas imagens só serão aproveitadas de fato por quem o ler em uma tela colorida. No Kindle convencional elas ficam pequenas e muito acinzentadas. Ademais, as páginas ilustradas demoram um bocado para carregar; meu Kindle é meio antigo, mas não sei se é por isso ou por conta do tamanho dos arquivos de imagem.
— 1.4. A aventura narrada em “The Hobbit” passa-se na Terra Média, vasto ambiente ficcional criado por Tolkien, que fez acompanharem o livro dois mapas. Estes também são difíceis de consultar no e-reader; num livro físico basta virar as páginas, mas no digital é preciso “navegar” pelo arquivo, o que toma tempo e dificulta a leitura. Sugiro abrir os mapas no “Kindle para PC” e imprimi-los. Tentarei também anexá-los a esta resenha.
— 1.5. Há algumas notas de rodapé, cuja interligação não funcionou muito bem em meu Kindle. Nada que prejudicasse a compreensão do texto.
🐉🗻 — 2. SOBRE A HISTÓRIA
— 2.1. Os fatos relatados em “O Hobbit” são anteriores àqueles de “O Senhor dos Anéis”; o protagonista do primeiro, Bilbo Baggins, é tio de Frodo, portador do Um Anel no segundo.
— 2.2. As referências de “O Hobbit” a “O Silmarillion”, espécie de Antigo Testamento* do universo mítico de Tolkien, são poucas e fáceis; não é necessário ler este para entender o aquele. Por outro lado, recomendo a leitura tanto do “Hobbit” quanto do “Silmarillion” como preparação para encarar o “Senhor dos Anéis”.
(*Sobre a expressão “Antigo Testamento”, v. esta resenha ao Silmarillion:
— 2.3. O inglês de “O Hobbit” é relativamente simples; embora o autor utilize alguns termos arcaicos, sua sintaxe é clara e o vocabulário pode ser dominado logo (sugiro a consulta ao “Google Imagens” para os nomes de acidentes geográficos).
Enquanto em “O Silmarillion” temos uma narrativa em tom mítico e estilo bíblico, e no “Senhor dos Anéis” uma fantasia épica com traços de romance aventuresco, “O Hobbit” é praticamente de conto de fadas. Não se pense, porém, que com isso seja uma história para criancinhas; esta narrativa fantástica é capaz de produzir e sustentar uma impressão de “sabedoria latente” — vetusta como Gandalf, caseira como Bilbo — que, a par das peripécias, muito entreterá o leitor adulto.
A aventura de Bilbo Baggins, seu “there and back again”, é um processo de transformação vital, no qual cada um de nós poderá se enxergar, mas cada um de maneira sempre particular, levemente adaptada ou traduzida. Eis aí uma possível definição de “símbolo”.
— 2.4. Ainda sobre a linguagem empregada, vale destacar a relação lúdica que Tolkien estabelece com a sonoridade, com a melodia da língua inglesa. As canções de elfos e anões são prova disso, e na pena do autor até as preposições, que têm fama de vazias e sensaboronas, ganham relevo:
«The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under the Hill and over the Hill, and across the Water; it was a great deal more than a nine days’ wonder.»
As primeiras páginas do Capítulo V, “Riddles in the Dark”, brindam-nos com uma série de frases deliciosas. Olhe por alguns instantes para fotografias do velho J.R.R. Tolkien, e em seguida leia seu texto em voz alta, como um avô lendo para seus netos — ou como seu avô para você.
« Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don’t know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum — as dark as darkness, except for two big round pale eyes in his thin face. He had a little boat, and he rowed about quite quietly on the lake; for lake it was, wide and deep and deadly cold. »
— 2.5. Por fim, Tolkien mostra-se habilidoso na técnica de produzir tempo e espaço com palavras. “O Hobbit” é um conto de aventura e viagem, e para descrever uma viagem é preciso fazer com que a distância entre os diferentes cenários deixe-se sentir por mais do que palavras indicativas de lapso temporal (“três dias”) ou espacial (“trinta milhas”).
Temos o mapa, é claro, mas acima do mapa reina a história; a esta Tolkien confere duração por meio do ritmo das frases, da inclusão de detalhes e acontecimentos intermediários, da alternância de aspetos objetivos (auroras e crepúsculos, estações do ano, paisagens) e subjetivos (fome, sono, cansaço, ânimo), facultando ao leitor uma experiência espessa, no tempo e no espaço, da jornada de Bilbo, Gandalf e os anões.
🐉🗻 — 3. VEREDICTO
« In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. »
“O Hobbit” não uma história genial e grandiosa, mas justa e boa, que nos captura com facilidade e consegue ir além do mero entretenimento. A edição é barata, o que compensa as dificuldades que relatei — mapas, ilustrações, notas.
De zero a dez, temos uma nota oito — mas um oito cheio, redondo, numa poltrona confortável e com um café pequeno ao lado. Não há nota mais digna para um Hobbit.
I would imagine it would be quite difficult to find someone who didn't know the tale of The Hobbit, at the very least from the movies. But The Hobbit, the novel, is something else entirely and an experience all its own. Tolkien's narrative is lyrical, completely compelling and, whilst not nonsensical at all, has a whimsical feel to it akin to Alice in Wonderland. I adored how the story is addressed to the reader, as though a secret is being shared of a story well-known and enjoyed between friends. Perhaps that was Tolkien's intention, given that it was ostensibly a tale to entertain his children, initially.
There are some unusual choices and some areas which, for me, lack depth. It feels absolutely crazy to say that about a world so rich and beautiful, but The Hobbit really does feel like a more accessible and less descriptive world than that of The Lord of the Rings, presumably to allow for a younger audience to enjoy it. Battle scenes, deaths and transitions between key moments are sometimes more quickly resolved than I expected from such a rich tapestry, and character connections are formed with the reader from very superficial descriptions. Because of this, I didn't enjoy the book as much as I expected to, and nor did I really feel the connection I hoped to with key characters. But you'd be hard pressed to criticise this book anywhere else.
The Hobbit is a perfect adventure; a terrifying, hilarious and heart warming combination uniquely its own. Tolkien's imagination is limitless, and The Hobbit feels so small in the grand scheme of the world he created, but it's a world I would gladly explore to the ends of its map.