I was a teenager when I first discovered Tolkein. I was
visiting my grandmother and stayed for a short time in my aunt’s old room. There
were several intriguing paperbacks on her shelves. I picked up her copy of The
Hobbit and opened it. Inside were two maps; one with a trail leading through
the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood, and another showing the Lonely Mountain and
the Desolation of Smaug. I was instantly hooked. There is nothing like a
hand-drawn map for drawing a reader in; before you know it you imagine yourself
walking along the paths that your finger traces on the page. I’ve read many,
many books since then. Most of them I’ve borrowed from friends or libraries, or
bought as paperbacks and just as quickly given away. A precious few were worth
investing in hard-bound copies. These are the books in whose pages I can lose
myself. And of these, The Hobbit is still king.
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