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So far, a beautiful, fever-dream of a dying priest suffering with a severe case of ressentiment. In the Nietzschean sense.

Sometimes, trembling with cold, I would go to a soda fountain and order a Bilz. I would sit on a bar stool and gaze all misty-eyed at the droplets running down the surface of the bottle, while somewhere inside me, a bitter voice was preparing me for the unlikely spectacle of a droplet climbing up the glass, against the laws of nature, all the way up to the mouth of the bottle.

Tolkien and the anti-Leviathan. He is fundamentally working on a cultural anthropological level, rather than on the political level that he seems to be read through, particularly from the right.