Tolkien in the New Yorker

In a shocking development, a critic from the New Yorker sniffs his nose at Tolkien and declares him boring and his entire oeuvre passe. Philip Larkin said so, apparently. Now, do you see any critics writing long, pointless pieces about the lack of dwarves in Kingsley Amis novels? Yet Gopnik writes thousands of words complaining that Tolkien's books aren't modern enough (among other failings). Never mind the students who enjoyed his courses, or the countless millions around the world who love his work.

Rather than refute the essay point by point (someone else already did a great job of that), I'll instead link to one of my favorite essays about Tolkien, written by Gene Wolfe. It's a piece that speaks to the joy and wonder of reading fantasy. In one section he writes about Tolkien imitators, and has this to say:

I have shown you, I hope, what these books have meant to me. If you find echoes of them in my own books and stories (and particularly in The Wizard Knight, with which I have struggled for the past year) you will not have discomfited me -- I am proud of them. Terry Brooks has often been disparaged for imitating Tolkien, particularly by those reviewers who find his books inferior to Tolkien's own. I can say only that I wish there were more imitators -- we need them -- and that all imitations of so great an original must necessarily be inferior.