Perhaps you’ve heard of the Inklings?

They were a group of literary friends from Oxford, England who gathered regularly in the 1930s and 40s to read and critique each other’s work.

Members included C.S. Lewis (of Narnia fame) and J.R.R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings), among others, and their conversations were enormously influential in shaping 20th-century literature.

I recently listened to a Trinity Forum interview with Dr. Diana Glyer, who has devoted much of her professional life to studying the Inklings. She was asked what caused the group to eventually stop meeting, and I’ve been thinking about her answer ever since.

Apparently, the death of the Inklings was brought about by Hugo Dyson’s dismissive comments toward Tolkien during their gatherings. Dyson wasn’t a fan of The Lord of the Rings. But rather than critique Tolkien’s novel in a respectful, constructive manner—as was the group’s custom—he brushed it off as unworthyof their time.

“Oh God, no more Elves,” he reportedly cried out on more than one occasion. Tolkien was so shaken by this treatment that he refused to read aloud if Dyson was present. And if Dyson arrived late and Tolkien was already reading, he would stop mid-sentence and put the manuscript away.

What I find fascinating is that it wasn’t criticism that eroded trust. Glyer contrasts Dyson’s approach with Lewis’s, citing an example where Lewis once offered Tolkien 14 pages of criticism on a single poem—complete with re-written stanzas—and Tolkien loved him for it!

So no, it wasn’t criticism that killed the Inklings. It was dismissiveness. Dyson was essentially saying to Tolkien: “I’m not interested in what interests you. I don’t care about the things you care about. And I don’t even want to hear what you have to say.”

Why is this story worth reflecting on?

Well, I can’t speak for you. But when I heard it, I thought to myself: “Guilty as charged.” 

I’m the type of person who loves a good debate and doesn’t shy away from sharing my perspective. But looking back, I can see how—at times—I’ve done so in ways that left the other person feeling dismissed. And once that happens, trust erodes and the relationship eventually dies.

It happened to the Inklings. And it’s happened to me.

The Inklings gave the world Narnia and Middle-earth, but they also gave us a caution: creativity—and friendship—thrive not on agreement, but on attentive presence. May we be the kind of friends who say, “Tell me more,” rather than, “No more elves.”

Thoughts from fellow travelers

I thought long and hard before clicking “send” on my last newsletter. I was more vulnerable than I’d ever been through this medium, and I knew there was a chance I’d regret it. But the responses were overwhelmingly kind, and I was reminded of a principle I’ve experienced time and again: vulnerability begets vulnerability.

Thank you for letting me be vulnerable with you. And for those who responded, thank you for doing so with kindness. More than ever, it made this feel like a true community.

Carry on fellow travelers, we’ll talk soon.