Head Full of Pages

During a break at a recent writing event, a favorite Reader question was asked in a playful, get-to-know-you way: "If you could live in any book, what would it be?" Normally I would skip this line of inquiry in favor of inscrutable silence, but the NaNo folks are a kindly lot and I decided to join in. Without giving it too much thought, I said the Hobbit. This was immediately seconded by a dozen other people and gave way to one of those intense nerdalogues wherein the pros and cons of a completely fictional concept are scrutinized in detail. Where would you live? What species would you be? When would you live - before or after the first or second defeat of Sauron? What would you do for a living? It was all going swimmingly until I broached a practical question to the would-be Hobbit contingent, namely, what kind of sewer system is employed in a Hobbit hole? Bilbo Baggins lived under a hill in a multi-roomed, one story house with one-sided ventilation. Where do you put the toilet in that layout? Next to the windows? IN the center? Where does the waste drain out? Middle Earth is basically a Medieval era world which means, er, garderobes at best, privies at worst. Bag End, as we all know, was the epitome of Hobbit comfort and coziness, but let's face it, it's still a hole in the ground. Once you hit that bathroom, that place is going to smell like Hobbit crap. And those little dudes are way too fond of rich food.

The Hobbit contingent countered that their favorite species is a very industrious and resourceful one and surely they would have invented some sort of Roman aqueduct style of sewage. Perhaps. But if anyone in Middle Earth is going to do that, it would be those stinky but clever Dwarves living under that damn mountain.

We were all in agreement on this.