The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien (Houghton Mifflin; $10.05) I know it seems like a pipsqueak confession to make in these days of Carlos and the FALN, but I once burgled a house. I opened a window and stepped inside and there I was, my heart in my mouth and my ears filled with the distant whine of dozens of stern Methodist ancestors spinning in their graves like turbines. The owner of the house had made a terrible mistake. He’d loaned me the first volume of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Then he’d locked his place up with the second volume inside and gone off for the weekend.