Yesterday, I added a new book to my collection. I hadn’t realized that it had been part of my mom’s library but not mine until just a couple days ago, when my husband and I were searching for a new book to read.
Over past couple of years, my husband and I started the tradition of reading aloud. All right, since I’m the bibliophile, I read the books aloud to him, but we both love it. (That, and it’s a great excuse to expose him to books he would never want to read on his own.)
As he scanned the shelves, he mentioned that we were finished with Tolkien. I laughed. We’ve only read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. There are certainly more stories from Middle-earth out there. When I teased that we could read The Silmarillion, I never expected him to take me up on it. Since he did, though, I had no choice but to officially add it to my collection. (I’m still not sure how it wasn’t there in the first place.)
Last night, we read the first few pages. Since I haven’t read it since high school, it was familiar yet invoked the excitement of a new story. Together, we imagined Arda — Middle-earth — born through music. But not just music. A symphony. Voices, instruments, all playing in harmony, each following the tune Iluvatar gave to them. And even in spite of the discordant notes of a power-hungry rebel, the melody still creates an incredible world that’s on the edge of countless adventures.
This isn’t the only world born through music, though. In The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis, Aslan sings Narnia into existence. While his voice is the only one at first, it doesn’t stay that way as his creation comes to life around him.
Music is powerful, and it seems like an appropriate way to bring two different worlds into existence.