Sydney M. Williams
Burrowing into Books
Reviews of Selective Readings
September
11, 2018
“Lord of the Flies”
William Golding
“Evening was
come, not with calm beauty but with the threat of violence.”
Lord
of the Flies, 1954
William
Golding (1911-1993)
It behooves us all, from time
to time, to re-read those books we read when young, to see if they still hold
our attention as they once did, to discover if their words still have their
power, if lessons garnered today are different from ones learned as adolescents.
An additional benefit, for those with children and grandchildren, is that doing
so allows a connection with youth, for many of these books are included on summer
reading lists. Over the past five years
I have read, or rather re-read, Moby Dick, Huckleberry Finn, The
Lord of the Rings trilogy and two of the Narnia Novels, along with half a
dozen Dickens’ and other classics, like Lewis Carroll and A.A. Milne. Golding’s
1954 novel is another such example.
The story is disturbing, but apt at a time when bullying has become, if
not more frequent, at least more discussed and when children are coddled, delaying
the rigors and rules of adulthood. “Safe places” protect youths from
uncomfortable words, but they leave them ill-prepared for the harshness and
reality of adulthood. And we have all known children like Piggy who are teased
without remorse; the quiet and illusive Simon; Ralph, who commands respect, and
bullies like Jack. We have all been witness – adult and adolescent alike – to
emotions that devolve into mass hatred. It is a sense of “there, but for the grace of God, go I” that makes this story so
personally compelling.
William Golding – born in England in 1911 and Oxford educated – is the
anti Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the 18th Century French philosopher who
believed that a child was born with an immaculate spirit, untouched by culture
and society. He was mankind before tempted in the Garden of Eden. Golding
wanted to correct that image – to show how young boys would behave when alone, without
the influence of adults or any societal guidance. He based the story on an
unsentimental understanding of what he had been like at the age of twelve or
thirteen – that he could be kind and decent, but that he could also be monstrous:
That evil is not learned, it is inherent – that devilish traits remain hidden
behind a façade of rules necessary to live in civilized company. In his book, 12
Rules for Life, Jordan Peterson wrote: “Bullying
at the sheer and often terrible intensity of the schoolyard rarely manifests
itself in grown-up society. William Golding’s dark and anachronistic Lord of
the Flies is a classic for a reason.”
Lord of the Flies is
the story of boys surviving alone, amidst chaos, division and friendship, for a
few weeks on an uninhabited island in the south Pacific. The plane, which had carried
the boys, crashed. No adults survived, only a few dozen boys aged six to about
thirteen. Ralph and Jack became leaders, reflecting opposing and conflicting
traits: “Ralph,” as Stephen King wrote
in the introduction of my copy, “embodied
the values of civilization and Jack’s embrace of savagery and sacrifice
represented the ease with which those values could be swept away.” Jack
asks: “Who cares about rules?” Ralph
responds he does: “Because rules are the
only thing we’ve got.” A conch shell is used to assemble the boys. But a
conch cannot substitute for the discipline of adults. While most young readers
identify with Ralph, Piggy is the most memorable. Perhaps, because his
character is more fully developed. Perhaps because the reader understands his
physical vulnerability, despite his intelligence, condemns him to a tragic end.
The boys are eventually found. Smoke from an out-of-control fire alerts
a passing British naval cruiser. Golding leaves us with these words: “Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the
darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend
called Piggy.”
World War II, which had
concluded less than a decade earlier, had shown the brutality of
totalitarianism. Its opposite, anarchy, is also barbaric, which is what Golding
wanted readers to understand. Civilization depends upon navigating the straits
between the Scylla of the former and the Charybdis of the latter. What is
wanted is a society that relies on common-sensical rules (laws), ones that
reflect the will of the people, are binding and judiciously enforced, so that liberty
is ensured and chaos avoided. What the boys learned (and
hopefully what readers will as well)
was what James Madison wrote in “Federalist
51”: “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” But they are not, so it is.
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