Return to High School
I just finished (re)reading Lord of the Flies. Sometimes I wonder why these kinds of books were assigned during high school. Either teenagers can't be fully aware of the subtle connotations in these books or I'm lagging far behind. After this reading -- over a decade later --, I couldn't believe the story had ended ... and I said outloud, "Yep, that's how it is." Does such cynicism start at 14?
This time I connected with a few of the characters. I really like Simon. He was "batty" but he knew how things were going to End. I knew, about a quarter of the way through, that he had to be killed. Simon knew to much; people who know much and act oddly have to "be done in". Piggy also knew too much but in a more belligerent way. He was too adamant about how things ought to be done and that approach is too easy a target. Every reader probably expected him to die. And I admired Ralph, the benevolent leader, and I probably would have followed him. Between Ralph and Piggy, I see my secret desires for recognition, as when Piggy desperately shouts "I have the conch!", tapered by my repulsion from actually leading as Ralph had done. I hope that I'm not too obstinately righteous like Piggy.
I did not like Jack or Roger. And no, Golding didn't demonize them. I see my own dark tendencies in them, like Jack attaining Piggy-recognition by hiding behind a mask. And you wonder whether you would have gone over to Jack's side -- I mean, on an island that is far away from society. Like the Lord told even the angelic Simon, "You know perfectly well you'll only meet me down there -- don't try to escape it!" (143). But my saving grace is that I don't like chanting or any ritualistic frenzy, nor unquestioning obedience, and Jack demanded such crap from his followers. It justifies egomaniac sadists like Roger who "... found a lodgment for his point and began to push till he was leaning with his whole weight. The spear moved forward inch by inch, and the terrified squealing became a high-pitched scream. ... 'Right up her ass!' [Roger said]" (135) The consequences of working myself up into a selfish compulsion are always like Golding depicted. It always ends badly.
And of course, after all their frenzy, "the forest was very still." (137)
This time I connected with a few of the characters. I really like Simon. He was "batty" but he knew how things were going to End. I knew, about a quarter of the way through, that he had to be killed. Simon knew to much; people who know much and act oddly have to "be done in". Piggy also knew too much but in a more belligerent way. He was too adamant about how things ought to be done and that approach is too easy a target. Every reader probably expected him to die. And I admired Ralph, the benevolent leader, and I probably would have followed him. Between Ralph and Piggy, I see my secret desires for recognition, as when Piggy desperately shouts "I have the conch!", tapered by my repulsion from actually leading as Ralph had done. I hope that I'm not too obstinately righteous like Piggy.
I did not like Jack or Roger. And no, Golding didn't demonize them. I see my own dark tendencies in them, like Jack attaining Piggy-recognition by hiding behind a mask. And you wonder whether you would have gone over to Jack's side -- I mean, on an island that is far away from society. Like the Lord told even the angelic Simon, "You know perfectly well you'll only meet me down there -- don't try to escape it!" (143). But my saving grace is that I don't like chanting or any ritualistic frenzy, nor unquestioning obedience, and Jack demanded such crap from his followers. It justifies egomaniac sadists like Roger who "... found a lodgment for his point and began to push till he was leaning with his whole weight. The spear moved forward inch by inch, and the terrified squealing became a high-pitched scream. ... 'Right up her ass!' [Roger said]" (135) The consequences of working myself up into a selfish compulsion are always like Golding depicted. It always ends badly.
And of course, after all their frenzy, "the forest was very still." (137)