Novel – 220 pages – my copy (paperback; 1979) bought for a few pennies in a charity shop a long time ago in a galaxy far away from here – read during August 2011
- 5 nods out of 5 -
The Worm was first introduced to Lord of the Flies in movie form many years ago. The enduring image continues to be that of a large rock falling upon Piggy’s head. In the process Piggy is killed, with the triumph of savagery over progress, of passion against reason, of the id over the ego.
Even those who have not read William Golding’s fantastic novel, many are aware of the story. A group of boys, ranging from six years to twelve years, are left stranded on a desert island. Left to their own devices, at first they continue with the symbols of their previous world – of authority figures (nominating a leader, Ralph; and in the rational mind of Piggy) – but eventually descend into mayhem and chaos. Ralph’s rival, Jack, creates a gang of hunters who consume the island in their philosophical mantra: ‘Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!’
The lack of external authority of a grown-up leads to a breakdown of education and social norms. This is shown nowhere more clearly than in the downfall of Roger – later master executioner for the hunters - as he throws rocks at one of the little ‘uns near the story's beginning:
‘Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policeman and the law. Roger’s arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.’
As Ralph is questioned ‘Who cares?’ about breaking the rules, he replies: ‘Because the rules are the only thing we’ve got!’ And even this slips away from the group’s grasp, as common sense and order give way to a feral temptation, as shown in the breaking of the conch – the only symbol of authority left remaining.
And just who is the Lord of the Flies? This is the sow’s head, detached from body and placed upon a stick, who tells Simon: ‘There isn’t anyone to help you. Only me. And I’m the Beast.’ But this is the lord in Simon’s deluded mind. Perhaps the beast has a larger, implicit location – in the unconscious feelings let loose from the children on the island. Like Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, it leaves an unsettling and frightening thought in the mind of the adult reader.
The officer at the book’s end is Ralph’s - and the collective boys – saviour, of all body, mind and soul. As the officer comments upon seeing them: ‘I should have thought that a pack of British boys – you’re all British aren’t you? – would have been able to put up a better show than that.’ Unfortunately for us, the reader, Golding proceeds to over-egg the pudding of the drama with the penultimate paragraph, as Ralph weeps for:
‘The end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy’.
But after such a story we can forgive him this melodrama. Lord of the Flies is a short book, but one filled with emotion, theory and never-ending reflection. A bona-fide 5 nodder, if the Worm ever did see one.
Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lord-Flies-William-Golding/dp/0571191479
