It's been ten years since the last time I read the Hobbit. It was one of my first Fantasy novels as a child, and as a teenager, I found it to be an accessible and gripping introduction to the expanded world of Middle Earth. Prior to this recent re-read, my rating was a solid, nostalgic five stars. Picking up the book again, I expected to be instantly drawn back into Bilbo's adventures. But probably due to my high expectations, I couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Tolkien is undoubtedly a genius at world-building, but instead of bringing me into the world and letting me explore it from within, it was like being lectured. His descriptions of the various races, their histories, and the geography of the land all felt as though they took precedence in his narration over Bilbo's actual journey and development. Secondary characters were incredibly one-dimensional. We learn nothing about Thorin beyond his lineage and desire to reclaim his inheritance throughout the entire book, and even that's more than we know about the 12 other dwarves. Gandalf is mysterious to a fault - coming and going without explanation and ending up more a tool of convenience than any sort of developed character.

While I find the actual journey with all its obstacles interesting and well-crafted, it comes across as more an extension of the world-building rather than the driving force of the plot. The company encounters both elves of the bitter and merry-making variety, dangerous and violent goblins and wolves, wise and powerful Beorn, industrious menfolk, and more; they trek across the haunting magical forest, traverse the dark mountain tunnels, cross a raging river - but instead of learning and growing from these diverse groups and experiences, they're just tourist stops on a visitor map.

The ending in particular is extremely rushed and undeveloped. After 90% of the book taken up by just getting to the dragon, Tolkien manages to completely take the thrill out of the climax.

Spoiler

He kills Smaug at the hands of a completely new character within a couple pages, initiates a siege against the dwarves by a combined force of men and elves, then abruptly abandons that conflict for a sudden reappearance of goblins and wolves - ending in an epic battle the main character (and therefore the reader) misses when he's knocked out. He goes from Thorin angrily exiling Bilbo, to a deathbed scene of forgiveness and gratitude within ten pages. All of this culminates in the final few pages with Bilbo returning unhindered to his home, content with the simple life he left in the beginning of the story, largely unaffected by his adventure, and unwilling to put to use his experiences.

In the end, it's probably only my nostalgia that redeemed any value I still have for this book. But then again, it's probably also my nostalgia that makes me so critical this time around.