Tolkien and the "Physical economy" of Post-menopausal Women

 

The world of Tolkien scholarship awaited with bated breath the publication in early November of a much-expanded revised edition of his selected letters, more than 40 years after the publication of the original edition. While there has certainly not been sufficient time to thoroughly digest the mass of new material (nor have I even attempted to read the book cover to cover in the chaos of semester’s end), I stumbled upon one particular new “gem,” a July 1940 letter to his middle son, Michael, that I felt required immediate commentary, for myriad reasons. Not the least of which is its honest portrayal of Tolkien as a middle-aged conservative male Catholic Oxford don who, while occasionally demonstrating some open-mindedness concerning women (including, arguably, some of his female characters), was no feminist. This does not, however, in any way minimize or denigrate feminist readings of Tolkien’s works, as authorial intent and reader reception are two very distinct lenses through which to observe literary works. My purpose is likewise not to pillory Tollers (although one might argue his views presented here richly deserve it) but rather to demonstrate that, despite the beliefs of some to the contrary, Tolkien was in many ways NOT ahead of this time. Nor should anyone take this as an apology for his narrow-minded points of view as merely reflecting the common misconceptions of his time (although I believe it is instructional to show that, in many ways, they do just that). Tolkien’s views on and use of gender in his writings are, as in the case of race, complicated, and while they should be studied in the greater context of the man, his life, his times, and the totality of his writings, we should not use any of these lenses to minimize the fact that they are, in some circumstances, utterly cringeworthy.

The original edition of his selected and abridged letters includes a 1941 epistle to Michael, concerning marriage and relationships between men and women more broadly, infamous for a number of cringeworthy statements whose interpretation has ranged from “conservative” to “openly misogynistic,” depending on the point of view of the reader. While the updated volume includes even more dubious nuggets from this letter (including Tolkien’s view on the specific “courage” of women), what caught my eye was a previously unpublished letter to Michael, designate 38a, also largely on the topic of women and relationships with them. The letter begins with Tolkien assuring his son that he has “never felt your love for A. ridiculous” (pg. 59), followed by several rather endearing fatherly pieces of advice about not rushing into things with his lady love.

Then the reader turns the page, and Tolkien makes a veiled reference to a letter that Michael’s mother, Edith, had written to her son. In explaining his wife’s apparently less than glowing response, he notes that Michael is “now up against a fundamental difficulty of life, which needs care and tact” (emphasis original). Yup, this is going to be another one of THOSE letters. Tolkien explains (rather condescendingly in my humble opinion) that women are “often far less introspective than men, and apt to understand their own motives very little.”

Tolkien then proceeds to explain that since sons are “peculiarly dear to mothers” they are often jealous of other women in their sons' lives, although the majority are completely unaware of it. Tolkien admits that he does not know what Edith had written to her son – therefore, a wiser man might have stopped at saying “Mummy is frightfully fond of you, and in constant thought of you, and feels deeply for your present hard life” (pg. 60), despite the fact that this sentence alone makes me wince (and he  admits later in the letter that Edith was actually “quite reconciled” with Michael’s romance [pg. 60]). But Tolkien being Tolkien, he goes there, and goes there hard, and notes “several other considerations” that he feels Michael should keep in mind when reflecting on whatever it was that she had said to her son. Translation: “be nice to Mummy and don’t take seriously what she said; she’s not responsible for being irrational, for the following reasons.”

Sigh.

The reasons, in a nutshell, are as follows (not in the order given):

1) Edith never got over having to convert to Catholicism to marry Ronald, and it has made her “irritable” (pg. 60).

2) Edith had developed “neuritis” and was “both in pain often, and physically irritable” (pg. 60).

And…

Yes, Edith has been going through the “change of life” (pg. 60).

Over the next few sentences, we read Tolkien’s description of menopause, replete with common misconceptions, condescension, and just plain misogyny, delivered with all the confidence a middle-aged cis-man who doesn’t even have a medical degree can muster when discussing a cis-woman’s body. Apparently Edith had been in perimenopause/menopause for some time, and was experiencing (undescribed) symptoms that were obvious to her husband, leading him to label her experience – defined by him as when a woman “ceases physically to be fit for childbearing” – as “slow and difficult” (pg. 60). This definition is curious – is it the natural process of physical changes to her body (which heretofore he has not explained) that are “difficult” or the adjustment to no longer being able to reproduce? The term “fit” here is certainly loaded, for example having Darwinian implications. Before being accused of reading too much into this, let us examine the remainder of this sentence, in which Tolkien explains that the result for a woman is that “her whole physical economy has to be readjusted” (pg 60). Yes, you read it correctly – a woman’s physical value or capital (which “physical economy” is code for) is defined by her ability to reproduce until menopause. What it is afterwards is not here defined, but apparently largely consists of taking care of Ronald, Priscilla (still a teenager) and the house, and, it is insinuated, poking her nose into Michael’s personal life.

While it is not my intention to downplay the importance of childbearing for those for whom this is a life choice (not me!), or the overall essential nature of it for the propagation of our species, the idea that a woman’s “physical economy” is defined by her ability to reproduce at ANY stage of life is simply insulting, although not uncommon. As Mitteness (161) has documented concerning persistent depictions of menopause in the mid 20^th century, the common image is that “it is a time of loss - of biological function and of social worth.” While Tolkien’s Catholicism potentially (probably?) plays a role in this point of view (given the Church’s view on procreation), the fact that he so cavalierly phases it this way is disturbing. Does he really believe that Edith measured her own worth solely (or even primarily) by her ability to produce four heirs? Would he have wanted her to feel that way? So many questions, most of them quite dark in nature.

But wait – it gets worse. Tolkien then explains to his son, quite authoritatively, that menopause (or perhaps specifically the change in their “physical economy” forced upon them) “makes them nervously unstable; and often hardly accountable for their sudden feelings” (pg. 60). Thankfully, Tolkien notes, these issues had apparently begun to fade, only to be replaced with her neuritis. Interestingly, despite Tolkien’s separation of his wife’s “change” and her nerves being “on a tingle” (possibly just parroting what the family physician had told them), more recent studies have demonstrated that such symptoms can be associated with physical changes in menopause or post-menopause (Li et al. 1).

In summary, Tolkien tells his son to “forgive and forget,” “Pray for her,” and “feel real affection for your mother (and my sweetheart)” (pg. 60). While that last clause tugs at the heartstrings (reminding one of the romantic vision of Ronald and Edith as Beren and Lúthien) we should not overlook the fact that Edith is blatantly objectified, and perhaps even infantilized, in this entire letter. The message is one of lack, of diminution: pity Edith because she cannot help what has happened to her, including her passage into a kind of death – the death of her primary physical economy.

Before some well-meaning individual attempts to mansplain to me that since Tolkien was talking to his SON it doesn’t count as mansplaining, consider how it sounds to a cis-post-menopausal woman to read a cis-man’s confident description of women’s bodies to his son, knowing that this conversation is further propagating negative and perhaps dangerous misconceptions onto yet another generation. Also consider what it means for Tolkien to hold ignorant opinions concerning his own wife’s experience with this natural change in life. Finally, realize the inherent commodification of the female body that Tolkien not only seems to buy into wholesale here but is propagating as fact to his son.

In terms of Tolkien’s legendarium, what examples do we have of post-menopausal women? In terms of the elves, he notes in “The Laws and Customs Among the Eldar” in Morgoth’s Ring that, despite their longeval nature, elves, like humans, primarily reproduce in their relative youth; despite retaining the “power of generation” for as long as needed, it is natural for them to no longer have such a desire after some time and “the mind turns to other things” (MR 213). While we might consider this very forward-thinking of Tolkien (to acknowledge that the time after childbearing is natural and not to be considered as a lack but rather the exertion of will), it comes in the same assemblage of writings in which we have Fëanor’s mother, Míriel, will herself to die in an effort to maintain autonomy over her own reproductive rights. There is also the unfortunate case of Elrond’s wife, Celebrían, whose sole purpose in the narrative is to give him three children; after being assaulted (perhaps even sexually assaulted) at the hands of orcs, she is conveniently shipped oversea and out of the narrative. In terms of mortals, we have the busybody nursemaid Ioreth (whose name literally means “old woman” in Sindarin) and the foul-tempered, spoon-stealing Lobelia Sackville-Baggins as our primary examples. In hindsight, a menopausal reading of Lobelia might be very interesting indeed. If someone has written that paper, please let me know – I’d love to read it! If no such paper exists, someone has to write it.

Tolkien’s view of menopause certainly reflects the misconceptions of his day and, unfortunately, perhaps even times prior to his. In the Victorian era menopausal women were considered “emotionally unstable” a rather persistent and aggressive trope that is still widespread today (RCN). Physician Charles Meigs wrote to his students in 1848 that a menopausal woman only has the following to look forward to:

grey hairs, wrinkles, the gradual decay of these physical and personal attractions, which heretofore have commanded the flattering image of society...The pearls of the mouth are become tarnished, the hay-like odor of the breath is gone, the rose has vanished from the cheek, and the lily is no longer the vain rival of the forehead or neck. The dance is preposterous, and the throat no longer emulates the voice of the nightingale’. (Utian 75)

The last of these symptoms is perhaps painfully symbolic to the reader of Tolkien.

Despite common stereotypes widely propagated through memes and other attempts at humor, studies have shown that the rates of reported depression, anxiety, and stress among menopausal women are comparable to menstruating women of the same age. Reported symptoms of "fatigue, irritability, insomnia, and nervousness" may be caused by both hormonal changes and the general stresses related to aging, especially in a culture that devalues older women (JHM).  

It is instructional to note that hormone therapy for menopausal symptoms had begun by the time of Tolkien’s letter, but was not yet widely available (Houck 351). The standard medical “treatment” (if one could call it that) for troublesome menopausal symptoms was “reassurance” – since it was believed that women (and clearly men) frequently acquired misconceptions concerning menopause from their social networks, education was considered the best treatment, along with sedatives as needed (Houck 351). Of course, some of the "fatigue, irritability, insomnia, and nervousness" might have been caused by the actions of others in their lives (husbands, children, and even parents) adding stress to their lives: say, having two sons in the military during a war, or having a husband who had his own long-standing physical and psychological challenges, some related to his own war experience.

Since this is a discussion of Tolkien, we should end with some philology. Another term for menopause is the climacteric, thought to derive from the Greek for the steps of a ladder. As Wulf Utian (74) mused, the widespread negative stereotypes of menopause persisting over the 20^th century “make one wonder whether women were meant to be climbing up or down the ladder!” Tolkien clearly seems to suggest the latter; I vote for the former.

Houck, Judith A. (2002) “How to Treat Menopausal Woman: A History, 1900 to 2000.” Current Women’s Health Reports 2: 349-55.

Johns Hopkins Medicine (2023) “Introduction to Menopause.” https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/introduction-to-menopause

Li, Jiayu et al. (2023) “Association of Reproductive Factors and Exogenous Hormone Use With Distal Polyneuropathy Among Postmenopausal Women in the United States.” Scientific Reports 13: 9274. https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-023-35934-7

Mitteness, Linda S. (1983) “Historical Changes in Public Information About the Menopause.” Urban Anthropology 12(2): 161-79.

Royal College of Nursing (2021) “The Wandering Womb: Women’s Health Nursing Past and Present.” https://www.rcn.org.uk/library-exhibitions/Womens-health-wandering-womb

Utian, Wulf H. (1997) “Menopause – a Modern Perspective From a Controversial History.” Maturitas 26: 73-82. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0378512296010924