The process of reinventing Tolkien goes on continuously. It's been going on in one form or anothe since The Lord of the Rings was first published, perhaps even since The Hobbit was first published.

But reinvention is no longer the purview of the critics, either the cynical foes of the Tolkien literary legacy or its staunch defenders who good-heartedly reclassify Tolkien's motivations and inspirations according to their own visions.

In today's world, everyone reinvents Tolkien, although some are more active than others. Fan fiction writers, for example, inject their own visions into Middle-earth, carving out parallel universes in a quantum fashion faster than hard-core fans can cry "Foul!".

And there are hard-core, self-appointed pontificators who have taken it upon themselves to sew up all the texts in concise little histories that prove that there was indeed only one mythology, that all passages can be used interchangeably to argue any point, and that Tolkien really meant what his afterday spokesmen feel is most important.

The trouble with revisionism is that it invariably displays its colors before it's complete. It can salt the waters of many wells and deprive people of the sweet taste of pure Tolkien literature, but the books themselves remain untouched. The initial impressions of readers remain untouched, even if the revisionists win a few battles here and there with magical tressures that combine the various mythologies in ways they should never be joined.

It's unfortunate that Christopher Tolkien himself annoinnted the process by writing and publishing a Silmarillion that took on the force of canonical text. By the time Christopher tried to explain what he had done it was too late. Even after the publication of the 12 volumes of The History of Middle-earth, most readers still accept the published Silmarillion as an authoritative source of information on Middle-earth.

Christopher's revisionism was not intended to mislead or stoke up the fires of a particular point of view. He was striving to open the doors to his father's imagination a little wider, and provide a glimpse of things that might have been, had oh so many other things happened or not happened.

J.R.R. Tolkien himself was the worst possible revisionist, dropping mythology after mythology, only to turn back to them to borrow ideas, names, themes, and even occasional characters. But these were his worlds to revise. He was the craftsman, sifting through his pile of previously partially completed works to see what could be reused, incorporated into a new work.

The Tolkien critical world, both professional and amateur, is today awaiting the publication of two books that may settle some questions. But more likely they'll add fuel to fires that simply won't go out. The History of The Hobbit and The Children of Hurin are not themselves canonical works, though they will be heard to speak with the voice of authority.

Revisionism continues today at all levels, and Tolkien purism itself is bound to be questioned regarding whether it provides any value. True purism, free of any agenda, at least provides a baseline for the study of Tolkien's various mythologies. It knows better than to treat all the stories and versions as if they are part of a single, concise whole work.

The reinvention of the Tolkien canon cannot wholly obscure the original works themselves, but unfortunately it can position itself so as to be mistaken for authority by people less schooled in the arts of reinvention.