Friday, 6 February 2026

"Anxiety of Influence" can be powerful and harmful - Alan Garner and JRR Tolkien

It is some decades since I read Harold Bloom's 1973 book "The Anxiety of Influence". The idea I retain from it is that a "strong" (and would-be "major") writer will sometimes (I recall that Bloom says always, which isn't true - but let's say "sometimes") have his work shaped by the "anxiety" of his major precursor. 


So that the Roman poet Virgil's work was shaped by his own sense of debt to the Greek poet Homer. 

Bloom's idea is that the earlier major poet casts a shadow and exerts such an influence that the later poet must either engage-with and transcend the earlier poet - or else be resigned to being a derivative and second-rate version of the earlier poet. 

If this goes well; the later writer will be the equal of, but qualitatively different from, the earlier poet. 


But if this fails - if the later author fails positively to transcend the earlier writer, yet is compelled by "anxiety" to make his own work as different as possible; then the result will merely be that the later author negatively reacts-against the earlier. 

I see this latter negative, reacting-against, version of the anxiety of influence; in the relationship between Alan Garner and JRR Tolkien.


Garner's earliest works were The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath. I like these both very much, especially Gomrath; and have re-read them multiple times. 

But they were clearly deeply indebted to Tolkien, and in his shadow. 

These books were indeed significantly different in form; being set in modern times, with a parallel occult magical world breaking-into the protagonist's lives. The magical world is also of a much more folkloric nature than Tolkien's autonomous world-building.

Nonetheless, the Tolkien influence is undeniable. 

 

Garner continued on this line with his next two books, Elidor and The Owl Service

Elidor does not work for me; but The Owl Service (1967) is both powerful and original in its use of a Mabinogion atmosphere and theme - probably Garner's "best book", qua book. 

These two later books introduce themes very different from Tolkien - an increasingly psychologically-tormented male protagonist, and socialist-type elements of class-conflict and -resentment. These are both autobiographical themes for Alan Garner*; as evident in his book of essays The Voice that Thunders.

Elidor and Owl Service also eschew the "eucatastrophic" (Tolkien's word) happy endings of classic fairytale; although OS has a satisfying sense of closure.

But Elidor, in particular, ends very abruptly with an atmosphere of pessimism and disgust, almost despair. 

 


Garner has often spoken either slightingly, or in a definitely hostile way, about JRR Tolkien and his work; and about both of the first two - and most obviously Tolkien-esque - books. 

Tolkien and garner indeed shared several strikingly similar characteristics, personal experiences, and professional interests.  

Tolkien's background was lower middle class. His childhood and young adult sufferings were (I think) much greater than Garner's, since Tolkien's childhood was distinctly impoverished. He was orphaned age twelve, and served in the First World War on the frontlines. Many close friends were killed. 

By contrast, Garner had a loving family background among the upper working classes of rural Cheshire. He did a short period of compulsory Army National Service during peacetime. His main unusual sufferings were three prolonged and severe, life-threatening, childhood illnesses. 


Both Tolkien and Garner were scholarship boys at famous and academically-rigorous old Grammar Schools in their nearby cities. Both joined the Army after school; and both went on to Oxford University to study Classics (Literae Humaniores) - with ambitions to become an academic; and both had an academically-undistinguished first couple of years. 

However, here their biographies diverge. 

Tolkien changed to an English degree, discovered his true academic interest, became a philologist, a full-time academic, and eventually a Professor. His major writings were done part-time, in his meagre spare time; for his own personal motivations, and without regard to making-a-living. 

Garner dropped-out of Oxford without taking a degree in 1956, shortly after Tolkien had published The Lord of the Rings. From then onwards, Garner was a full-time professional author; and either needed to accept state or personal subsidies, or make a living from his writing to support his family.


Garner was an excellent writer; but from age 22 his whole life became focused on writing, publishing, selling books etc. 

And in terms of making a living from writing, it became evident that the more Tolkienian were Garner's books, the more popular they were and the money they made. 

Weirdstone is still, by some distance, Garner's best-selling book on Amazon. 

It is my inference, but it seems evident that Garner's anxiety of influence therefore got worse with time. The less Tolkien-esque he was, the less successful were his books...

He desired to be a major writer, and had great talent in that direction - but, as with many other full-time professional writers - I get a sense of running-out of things to say; and a change to focusing on form rather than content.

A sense of focusing on how the book is written, more than what the book is "about".  


This is, I believe, one of the reasons for literary "modernism" and the stylistically and structurally "experimental writings" of the 1920s and 30s; such as Joyce's Ulysses, Eliot's The Waste Land, and the like. 

So, rather belatedly, Garner made a decisive break with the earlier Tolkien-esque stories; and wrote Red Shift (1973) - which is extremely difficult to follow, and very experimental and stylized in its structure and prose. 

Yet which is underneath (as with Ulysses) somewhat banal and stereotyped, melodramatic, in its action and emotions. 

RS also ends extremely negatively; in disgust, extreme pessimism, and despair; with the tormented male protagonist descending into psychosis - and a coded intention of suicide. 


Since Red Shift; Garner has continued to write in a broadly similar deliberately obscure and experimental style - and typically aimed at adults, rather than children or adolescents. 

His books are critically acclaimed in the high-brow media, and have "garnered" and sustained a dedicated - almost fanatical - cult following. 

Yet they are not popular because they are not enjoyable, and don't sell well. 


This outcome seems, from what he says, to have hardened and intensified Garner's negative reaction-against Tolkien and his earlier Tolkien-indebted fictions. 

He has doubled-down on his modernistic experimentations; obscurity, the puzzle-like decoding required of the reader.  

But, in terms of quality, there has been a price to pay - and this includes a pervasive atmosphere of horror, misery, resentment, bitterness - and hopelessness.  

The recurrence of suicide as a theme, or resolution, is especially telling - and dismaying. 


Such have been, by my judgment, the extremities of the phenomenon of anxiety of influence for a very talented writer. 

I am sympathetic about Garner's dilemma, and the problem is genuine. 

But I believe he made wrong choices, fell into endorsing wrong attitudes; and has chronically refused to repent his errors. 


*This relatively late arrival of autobiographical themes, strikes me as retrogressive. Autobiographical concerns ought, I feel, to be worked-through at an early stage (a classic "first novel" concern!) - and something a writer transcends as his work proceeds. But in the case of professional authors, with their writing-focused lives; it seems they feel compelled to dredge their own lives - often of their pre-writing lives - over and again; for lack of any other personally-motivating theme. Either that or they start writing-about-writing!

 

7 comments:

  1. I like the cover of Red Shift.

    That is an interesting analysis. I think C.S. Lewis may have had to deal with something similar with his wanting to be a poet and also his statement that the best way to be creative is to just do good work and not think about being original.

    Maybe if Garner had viewed Tolkien more as a positive influence than an influence to be anxious about, that would have helped him.

    Also, the desire for originality makes Christopher Tolkien's work more admirable, since many people simply would not have spent 50 years on someone else's work.

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  2. @NLR - Yes, it's a good cover. The picture is of Mow Cop castle, which features in the book.

    I'm not sure who CSL would have had as a focus of his anxiety of influence. Sometimes, AoI only appears in terms of an absence - a must-be-deliberate failure to mention a very obvious predecessor.

    CSL was certainly very serious about being a poet. But my impression is that he was (by my own criteria) a skilful verse writer rather than poet; and a was a much better fiction writer.

    My guess is that CSL's favourite poet may have been Spenser, because he writes about him with special warmth.

    Christopher Tolkien was not in direct competition with his father, as a fiction writer - which is one factor. But there seems to have been an especially strong mutual love between father and son - and I detect no trace of resentment in Christopher. I think he really enjoyed immersed-in and working-on his father's work, and never got bored or tired of this right into his nineties.

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    1. I have always been struck how CS Lewis (like Warren and Mrs Moore) insisted all his life that he was Anglo-Irish. This would not now be normal in a Belfast Unionist, but he had a perfectly good claim. His mother was minor Ascendancy and his father was a Protestant from Cork, his maternal grandparents were old enough to remember the Famine, and he had a horror of landlords, the workhouse and emigration to America.

      I think he wanted to be the next Yeats, and that it took him till his thirties to accept that he was not a good poet and his real genius was for fiction.

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  3. Alan Garner was never an imitator but I suspect that when he was starting off he just assumed that fantasy was the right genre for his material, and I also think that he was right to have second thoughts.

    A weakness of Brisingamen and Gomrath is that there are simply too many mythological beings and motifs, drawn from different mythologies and named in different languages, both times joining forces in a final battle purely because the plot needs a denouement. Elidor also jarringly mixes English and Celtic material. If Garner had continued in this vein, he would certainly have become a second-hand Tolkien.

    In The Owl Service, English characters encounter Celtic myth on its own ground, and it vanishes from the later books, rightly to my mind. Garner's wellsprings were the stories embedded in the English landscape. I suspect that the problem is that he did not like everything he found there.

    My mother, a Lancashire woman, seeing that Red Shift is set around Mow Cop, told me that her father, originally from a Cheshire family, thought Mow Cop very important because John Wesley held a famous revival there. One of my grandfather's ancestors is said to have been exiled from Macclesfield for machine breaking. This is not the sort of thing Garner finds in the English past, and I think he is reluctant to admit how much separates us from premodern times.

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  4. @ Philip Neal - Excellent analysis of Garner.

    I agree that the first two novels do have that problem; but I also feel that it is less evident in Gomrath - which is also, for me, a more powerful book.

    However, it is not a big problem for me. Narnia mixes as well, and it is a flaw, but not enough to detract significantly.

    And the fact is that I just keep returning and re-reading these books, because I get such a lot from them.

    Owl Service works *very* well as a novel, for me; but the Welshness aspect is manufactured; that of an outsider whose heart lies elsewhere. Garner's instinct to root himself in his ancestral landscape was surely sound... But it is not enough.

    The later books all have a very oppressive sense, and a crushing negativism; which is perhaps inevitable given Garner's apparent metaphysical beliefs - yet the aggression and thoroughness with which he tries to impose his own (self-chosen) bleak and nihilistic visions on the reader does him no credit, in my book.

    When garner can forget about his modernism and Beckett-esque pessimism, and enthuse about his family, his home, his experience - it is delightful. But even as I appreciate this, I am always wary that I am being *set-up* for some stunning blow of horror and hopelessness! Some nasty "Twist" in the tale.

    Garner's whole world view is distorted negatively by his "anything but Christianity" attitude, which has been mainstream among writers for several generations, and which I recognize because I used to share it and approve of it.

    AbC leads to a very twisted and selective view of the past, and what was good about it, and what was wicked - and (in Garner and elsewhere) a species of value-inversion: a glorification of that which should be condemned.

    AG is apparently much influenced by Robert Graves, and Graves was an example of this - his White Goddess "utopia" novel - Seven Days in New Crete - shows what I mean by value inversion. It is in The White Goddess too; for example RG's approval of systematic ritual torture and murder... when in the service of a Goddess cult.

    wrt CSL; You may be right about Yeats as a model, but I am not sure.

    I know CSL visited Yeats a couple of times, but he didn't seem very attracted or impressed, as I recall. But certainly, your general point is correct, CSL wanted to be of the poetic stature of Yeats, and Yeats was the immediate and present positive exemplar of that era - so some degree of "anxiety of influence" was almost inevitable.

    I feel pretty sure that CSL was not a real poet and never could have been a real poet - also, in in critical work, CSL did not appreciate what it was that made (real) poetry qualitatively different from prose.

    CSL's apparent preference for long poems is a giveaway; because real poetry is lyric, and found in short forms or in passages from long poems. A preference for long verse epics - like Paradise Lost, Faerie Queen, or The Prelude - is indirect evidence of missing the point of poetry!

    (I am with Robert Graves's critical work on this point, although Graves himself - despite his protestations! - I regard as a versifier, not a real poet).

    (https://notionclubpapers.blogspot.com/2009/11/personality-of-jrr-tolkien-classic.html)

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  5. That's very interesting. I hadn't thought of this 'anxiety of influence' re Garner towards Tolkien before. Am currently reading Weirdstone to the kids at bedtime. Just fantastic to be back in Garner's early world.Feels like home.

    I love Elidor. Hand on heart, I'd say it's my favourite book of all time. The ending's ambiguous, certainly, but I don't think it's necessarily as pessimistic as you suggest. For me it works because this is exactly what it's like to be a standard bearer for the sacred in late modernity. It's a tough gig. We live in a de-mythologised, de-sacralised milieu, and there's always going to be conflict between the world as it is and the visionaries and mystics who can see beyond the veil. It's a difficult burden for them. A real Calvary. I'll have more on this available soon when I publish the e-book I'm working on.

    'On paper', I should have enjoyed The Owl Service but never did. I agree with you that the Welshness feels forced. As mentioned above, Red Shift has a great cover but that's about it. And there's nothing else AG's written at all that compels me.

    But those first three books are gold. The magic feels so natural and inherent somehow in both the terrain and the text. In these novels, Garner creates what Heidegger called a 'Clearing' - a space where the numinous and holy can reappear in our world without feeling rushed or watched.

    Good piece, thank you, and nice to be back.

    John.

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  6. @John - We have talked about Elidor several times! I'm very pleased you like it so much.

    It's a blind spot for me, however - although I have re-read it at least three times over the past fifty years.

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