J.R.R. Tolkien, b. 1892, is, of course, about the best modern (twentieth century) writer there is. If you don’t agree, I feel for you. We celebrated Tolkien’s birthday a few days early. I re-read The Silmarillion, and on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, we watched the Peter Jackson interpretation of Tolkien, all three movies in extended editions. This celebration may become an annual tradition.
Yesterday was the first time I had seen the extended edition of Return of the King. I liked it. Some of my children, who shall remain unnamed, are somewhat angry with Movie-Aragorn, and with Mr. Jackson, because they think that Movie-Aragorn was flirting with Eowyn and leading her on in a most unbecoming and un-Tolkienish way. They especially disliked the added scene where Aragron happens upon Eowyn while she is sleeping and gently covers her feet and listens to her dream. I thought it was sweet.
The movies aren’t Tolkien. The movies are Peter Jackson’s interpretation of Tolkien. Tolkien’s books are better than the movies. However, I love the movies in a different way, and I am quite impressed with what some crazy movie makers were able to do to bring a piece of Tolkien’s imaginary world to the screen.
I leave you with a couple of quotes from The Silmarillion:

And the Numenoreans answered: ‘Why should we not envy the Valar, or even the least of the Deathless? For of us is required a blind trust, and a hope without assurance, knowing not what lies before us in a little while. And we also love the Earth and would not lose it.’
Then the Messengers said: ‘Indeed the mind of Iluvatar concerning you is not known to the Valar. . . the Valar bid you earnestly not to withhold the trust to which you are called, lest soon it become again a bond by which you are constrained. Hope rather that in the end even the least of your desires shall have fruit. The love of Arda was set in your hearts by Iluvatar, and he does not plant to no purpose.’

Luthien was the most beautiful of all the children of Iluvatar. Blue was her rainment as the unclouded heaven, but her eyes were grey as the unclouded evening; her mantle was sewn with golden flowers, but her hair was dark as the shadows of twilight. As the light upon the leaves of trees, as the voice of clear waters, as the stars above the mists of the world, such was her glory and her loveliness; and in her face was a shining light.

Last year on Tolkien’s birthday
Thoughts on The Silmarilllion