Although Tolkien’s letters call Samwise Gamgee the “chief hero” of The Lord of the Rings, Sam is easily underestimated by both readers and critics. Recovering Consolation focuses attention on Sam’s point of view throughout the long journey that is the novel. This book responds to Frodo’s famous words at the Stairs of Cirith Ungol, imagining a child speaking to a parent: “I want to hear more about Sam, dad; why didn’t they put in more of his talk, dad? That’s what I like, it makes me laugh. And Frodo wouldn’t have got far without Sam, would he, dad?” Listening to Sam not only makes us laugh but also shows him to be, like Tolkien himself, a master of mythopoesis; as the novel’s narrator puts it, “Sam had more on his mind than gardening.” Yet the concrete act of gardening, another passion that Sam shares with Tolkien, should help us to understand how consolation is recovered, as is well explained in Tolkien’s great essay, “On Fairy Stories.” Both there and in The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien offers a “theological aesthetic” that has much to teach us. Although we may not realize it while laughing along with Sam, this humble servant-hobbit is key to this aesthetic.

Timely and profound philosophical meditations on how great figures in history, literature, music, and art searched for solace while facing tragedies and crises, from the internationally renowned historian of ideas and Booker Prize finalist Michael Ignatieff When we lose someone we love, when we suffer loss or defeat, when catastrophe strikes—war, famine, pandemic—we go in search of consolation. Once the province of priests and philosophers, the language of consolation has largely vanished from our modern vocabulary, and the places where it was offered, houses of religion, are often empty. Rejecting the solace of ancient religious texts, humanity since the sixteenth century has increasingly placed its faith in science, ideology, and the therapeutic. How do we console each other and ourselves in an age of unbelief? In a series of lapidary meditations on writers, artists, musicians, and their works—from the books of Job and Psalms to Albert Camus, Anna Akhmatova, and Primo Levi—esteemed writer and historian Michael Ignatieff shows how men and women in extremity have looked to each other across time to recover hope and resilience. Recreating the moments when great figures found the courage to confront their fate and the determination to continue unafraid, On Consolation takes those stories into the present, movingly contending that we can revive these traditions of consolation to meet the anguish and uncertainties of our precarious twenty-first century.

Hurt combines the biblical and theoretical, drawing from the healing power of therapy, the knowledge of psychology, the wisdom of theology and the experiences of hundreds of individuals to provide comfort, consolation, insight and understanding to the abandoned and heartbroken individual while time and growth bring forth recovery at his own pace. The book facilitates recovery as the reader learns about himself, his choices in people, the need to forgive and the realization that he is not alone or unusual in his pain.

The virtual realities that works of literary and visual art provide us are loosely the concern of these essays. Working methods are touched upon in some, as in my interviews with William Anastasi and Robert Kipniss. The intentionality of the artist, however, is never my concern, nor should it be of interest to the reader; the intentions cannot necessarily be derived from the work (as the New Critics reminded us long ago). Rather, to see and feel how the text or work of visual functions is our pleasant task. So we do not ask why, a dead-end question. How is the question that can lead to infinitely more rewarding discoveries.

Fans of JoJo Moyes will love this heartfelt, emotional read about a woman who loses everything and the man who helped her heal.