Thomas Covenant is my constant companion. I've no idea how many times I've read him. His leprosy symbolizes so much about all of us. We fall apart; face choices and situations we're ill-equipped to handle. But we do it. Then beat ourselves up forever. Ultimately it's all chiaroscuro isn't it? This or that just doesn't cut it any more, if it ever did. We are the shades we live in.
I liked that this guy, riddled with disease and madly untouchable, learns just exactly how miserable life can get. And it's all our own doing, one way or another. The Chronicles tied in spectacularly with my own life too. My salvation depended on this beaten wreck of a man for a long time. Perhaps that made me Illearth?
As much as I wanted to slap him a zillion times, would I have been able to do better? I wish! His mythical journey towards sacrifice mirrors Joseph Campbell's description of the hero's journey. Mirrors each and every one of us. Actually everyone in that tale at some point or another reminds me that we are each other, even the icky stuff. Oh yes, I've rebuilt cosmology through Thomas and
It amuses me when the literati label genres and decry the latest mutation of Tolkien or whoever, like it’s hallowed ground never to be trod again. Like *duhhh … as if! Because hey, in my opinion, our mythical earth-lives have been described in art ever since an asteroid thought “this'd be a place to drop the payload”.
I'm not going anywhere with this. At least, not today. I was just looking at the minimal book listings in profile and realised, omg, where's Tom??
