The Cosiness of the Ring

I have read The Lord of the Rings three times.
The first time I was around eight so I can’t remember much about it, except that I seemed to roughly follow the story and enjoyed it well enough.
The second time I was around fifteen.
I read the book a third time just recently, which inspired this very self-indulgent review.
As a teenager, I found the start of the book extremely slow and dull. ‘Hurry up and leave the Shire!’ I thought. Not to escape the approaching threat, just to start the adventures and to explore Middle Earth. My favourite parts were the set-piece battles where Legolas and Gimli compared their kill tallies. Now this is literature, thought adolescent me.
As a middle-aged man, in contrast, my favourite part is the long, lingering introduction set in the Shire. I would be happy to read a full book set there – just Frodo, Sam and friends hanging out at the pub, talking about gardening, Frodo on solo hikes in the nearby woods having occasional chats with passing elves.
Why the switch?
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