I am not really sure why it took me so long to read Tolkien, most people I know read his works when they were children and grew up under his influence. Perhaps I was more of a C. S. Lewis child, or perhaps I was so steeped in all things fantasy and mythology that I felt I had sufficiently absorbed the books through popular culture. The Hobbit is a difficult book to review without commenting on its huge cultural impact. Beginning as a fireside tale that Tolkien wrote and recited for his children, it grew in ways he could never have imagined. The story itself is by no means outstanding, the adventure is by-the-numbers and pans out more or less how one would expect, but the way it is written remains timelessly engaging to this day. I enjoyed Bilbo's battle of riddles with Gollum and later his infiltration of Smaug's lair, both of which made for some tense reading. Peter Jackson recently got his grubby hands on the rights for the film adaptation and bastardised the tale beyond all imagining, much to the chagrin of Tolkien's family.
Rating: 3/5

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