Lord of the Flies

By William Golding, Lois Lowry and Jennifer Buehler

Golding’s iconic 1954 novel, now with a new foreword by Lois Lowry, remains one of the greatest books ever written for young adults and an unforgettable classic for readers of any age.

This edition includes a new Suggestions for Further Reading by Jennifer Buehler.

At the dawn of the next world war, a plane crashes on an uncharted island, stranding a group of schoolboys. At first, with no adult supervision, their freedom is something to celebrate. This far from civilization they can do anything they want. Anything. But as order collapses, as strange howls echo in the night, as terror begins its reign, the hope of adventure seems as far removed from reality as the hope of being rescued.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Books
• Release date: Jul 27, 1959
• ISBN: 9781101158104

Book preview

PENGUIN BOOKS

LORD OF THE FLIES

WILLIAM GERALD GOLDING was born in Cornwall, England, in 1911 and educated at Oxford University. His first book, Poems, was published in 1934. Following a stint in the Royal Navy and other diversions during and after World War II, Golding wrote his first novel, Lord of the Flies (1954), while teaching school. Many novels followed, including The Inheritors (1955), Pincher Martin (1956), and Free Fall (1959), as well as a play, The Brass Butterfly (1958), and a collection of shorter works, The Hot Gates and Other Occasional Pieces (1965). He received the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Darkness Visible (1979) and the Booker Prize for Rites of Passage (1980). In 1983, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for his novels which, with the perspicuity of realistic narrative art and the diversity and universality of myth, illuminate the human condition in the world of today. He was a member of the Royal Society of Literature and was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 1988. William Golding died in June 1993 and is buried in Holy Trinity churchyard in Bowerchalke, Wiltshire, in England.

LOIS LOWRY is the two-time Newbery Medal–winning author of Number the Stars, The Giver Quartet, and numerous other books for young adults.

JENNIFER BUEHLER is an associate professor of English education at Saint Louis University and the author of Teaching Reading with YA Literature: Complex Texts, Complex Lives, published by the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE). She served as president of the Assembly on Literature for Adolescents of NCTE (ALAN) in 2016.

PENGUIN BOOKS

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street

New York, New York 10014

penguin.com

Originally published in Great Britain by Faber and Faber Ltd

Ninety-five Capricorn printings

Forty-eight subsequent Perigee printings

Coward-McCann Inc. edition published in 1962

First Riverhead trade paperback edition: August 1997

First Perigee hardcover edition: November 2003

First Riverhead trade paperback edition: August 1997

First Perigee premium edition: May 2006

Published in Penguin Books with an Afterword by Lois Lowry and Suggestions for Further Exploration by Jennifer Buehler 2016

Copyright © 1954 by William Golding

Copyright renewed © 1982 by William Gerald Golding.

Afterword copyright © 2016 by Lois Lowry.

Suggestions for Further Exploration copyright © 2016 by Jennifer Buehler.

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 54-11717

Ebook ISBN 9781101158104

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover art and design: R. Kikuo Johnson

btb_ppg_148350561_c0_r9

For my mother and father

Contents

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

one

THE SOUND OF THE SHELL

two

FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN

three

HUTS ON THE BEACH

four

PAINTED FACES AND LONG HAIR

five

BEAST FROM WATER

six

BEAST FROM AIR

seven

SHADOWS AND TALL TREES

eight

GIFT FOR THE DARKNESS

nine

A VIEW TO A DEATH

ten

THE SHELL AND THE GLASSES

eleven

CASTLE ROCK

twelve

CRY OF THE HUNTERS

Afterword by Lois Lowry

Suggestions for Further Exploration by Jennifer Buehler

one

THE SOUND OF THE SHELL

THE BOY with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witch-like cry; and this cry was echoed by another.

Hi! it said. Wait a minute!

The undergrowth at the side of the scar was shaken and a multitude of raindrops fell pattering.

Wait a minute, the voice said. I got caught up.

The fair boy stopped and jerked his stockings with an automatic gesture that made the jungle seem for a moment like the Home Counties.

The voice spoke again.

I can’t hardly move with all these creeper things.

The owner of the voice came backing out of the undergrowth so that twigs scratched on a greasy wind-breaker. The naked crooks of his knees were plump, caught and scratched by thorns. He bent down, removed the thorns carefully, and turned around. He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat. He came forward, searching out safe lodgments for his feet, and then looked up through thick spectacles.

Where’s the man with the megaphone?

The fair boy shook his head.

This is an island. At least I think it’s an island. That’s a reef out in the sea. Perhaps there aren’t any grownups anywhere.

The fat boy looked startled.

There was that pilot. But he wasn’t in the passenger cabin, he was up in front.

The fair boy was peering at the reef through screwed-up eyes.

All them other kids, the fat boy went on. Some of them must have got out. They must have, mustn’t they?

The fair boy began to pick his way as casually as possible toward the water. He tried to be offhand and not too obviously uninterested, but the fat boy hurried after him.

Aren’t there any grownups at all?

I don’t think so.

The fair boy said this solemnly; but then the delight of a realized ambition overcame him. In the middle of the scar he stood on his head and grinned at the reversed fat boy.

No grownups!

The fat boy thought for a moment.

That pilot.

The fair boy allowed his feet to come down and sat on the steamy earth.

He must have flown off after he dropped us. He couldn’t land here. Not in a plane with wheels.

We was attacked!

He’ll be back all right.

The fat boy shook his head.

When we was coming down I looked through one of them windows. I saw the other part of the plane. There were flames coming out of it.

He looked up and down the scar.

And this is what the cabin done.

The fair boy reached out and touched the jagged end of a trunk. For a moment he looked interested.

What happened to it? he asked. Where’s it got to now?

That storm dragged it out to sea. It wasn’t half dangerous with all them tree trunks falling. There must have been some kids still in it.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.

What’s your name?

Ralph.

The fat boy waited to be asked his name in turn but this proffer of acquaintance was not made; the fair boy called Ralph smiled vaguely, stood up, and began to make his way once more toward the lagoon. The fat boy hung steadily at his shoulder.

I expect there’s a lot more of us scattered about. You haven’t seen any others, have you?

Ralph shook his head and increased his speed. Then he tripped over a branch and came down with a crash.

The fat boy stood by him, breathing hard.

My auntie told me not to run, he explained, on account of my asthma.

Ass-mar?

That’s right. Can’t catch my breath. I was the only boy in our school what had asthma, said the fat boy with a touch of pride. And I’ve been wearing specs since I was three.

He took off his glasses and held them out to Ralph, blinking and smiling, and then started to wipe them against his grubby wind-breaker. An expression of pain and inward concentration altered the pale contours of his face. He smeared the sweat from his cheeks and quickly adjusted the spectacles on his nose.

Them fruit.

He glanced round the scar.

Them fruit, he said, I expect—

He put on his glasses, waded away from Ralph, and crouched down among the tangled foliage.

I’ll be out again in just a minute—

Ralph disentangled himself cautiously and stole away through the branches. In a few seconds the fat boy’s grunts were behind him and he was hurrying toward the screen that still lay between him and the lagoon. He climbed over a broken trunk and was out of the jungle.

The shore was fledged with palm trees. These stood or leaned or reclined against the light and their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air. The ground beneath them was a bank covered with coarse grass, torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees, scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings. Behind this was the darkness of the forest proper and the open space of the scar. Ralph stood, one hand against a grey trunk, and screwed up his eyes against the shimmering water. Out there, perhaps a mile away, the white surf flinked on a coral reef, and beyond that the open sea was dark blue. Within the irregular arc of coral the lagoon was still as a mountain lake—blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. The beach between the palm terrace and the water was a thin stick, endless apparently, for to Ralph’s left the perspectives of palm and beach and water drew to a point at infinity; and always, almost visible, was the heat.

He jumped down from the terrace. The sand was thick over his black shoes and the heat hit him. He became conscious of the weight of clothes, kicked his shoes off fiercely and ripped off each stocking with its elastic garter in a single movement. Then he leapt back on the terrace, pulled off his shirt, and stood there among the skull-like coconuts with green shadows from the palms and the forest sliding over his skin. He undid the snake-clasp of his belt, lugged off his shorts and pants, and stood there naked, looking at the dazzling beach and the water.

He was old enough, twelve years and a few months, to have lost the prominent tummy of childhood and not yet old enough for adolescence to have made him awkward. You could see now that he might make a boxer, as far as width and heaviness of shoulders went, but there was a mildness about his mouth and eyes that proclaimed no devil. He patted the palm trunk softly, and, forced at last to believe in the reality of the island laughed delightedly again and stood on his head. He turned neatly on to his feet, jumped down to the beach, knelt and swept a double armful of sand into a pile against his chest. Then he sat back and looked at the water with bright, excited eyes.

Ralph—

The fat boy lowered himself over the terrace and sat down carefully, using the edge as a seat.

I’m sorry I been such a time. Them fruit—

He wiped his glasses and adjusted them on his button nose. The frame had made a deep, pink V on the bridge. He looked critically at Ralph’s golden body and then down at his own clothes. He laid a hand on the end of a zipper that extended down his chest.

My auntie—

Then he opened the zipper with decision and pulled the whole wind-breaker over his head.

There!

Ralph looked at him sidelong and said nothing.

I expect we’ll want to know all their names, said the fat boy, and make a list. We ought to have a meeting.

Ralph did not take the hint so the fat boy was forced to continue.

I don’t care what they call me, he said confidentially, so long as they don’t call me what they used to call me at school.

Ralph was faintly interested.

What was that?

The fat boy glanced over his shoulder, then leaned toward Ralph.

He whispered.

They used to call me ‘Piggy.’ 

Ralph shrieked with laughter. He jumped up.

Piggy! Piggy!

Ralph—please!

Piggy clasped his hands in apprehension.

I said I didn’t want—

Piggy! Piggy!

Ralph danced out into the hot air of the beach and then returned as a fighter-plane, with wings swept back, and machine-gunned Piggy.

Sche-aa-ow!

He dived in the sand at Piggy’s feet and lay there laughing.

Piggy!

Piggy grinned reluctantly, pleased despite himself at even this much recognition.

So long as you don’t tell the others—

Ralph giggled into the sand. The expression of pain and concentration returned to Piggy’s face.

Half a sec’.

He hastened back into the forest. Ralph stood up and trotted along to the right.

Here the beach was interrupted abruptly by the square motif of the landscape; a great platform of pink granite thrust up uncompromisingly through forest and terrace and sand and lagoon to make a raised jetty four feet high. The top of this was covered with a thin layer of soil and coarse grass and shaded with young palm trees. There was not enough soil for them to grow to any height and when they reached perhaps twenty feet they fell and dried, forming a criss-cross pattern of trunks, very convenient to sit on. The palms that still stood made a green roof, covered on the underside with a quivering tangle of reflections from the lagoon. Ralph hauled himself onto this platform, noted the coolness and shade, shut one eye, and decided that the shadows on his body were really green. He picked his way to the seaward edge of the platform and stood looking down into the water. It was clear to the bottom and bright with the efflorescence of tropical weed and coral. A school of tiny, glittering fish flicked hither and thither. Ralph spoke to himself, sounding the bass strings of delight.

Whizzoh!

Beyond the platform there was more enchantment. Some act of God—a typhoon perhaps, or the storm that had accompanied his own arrival—had banked sand inside the lagoon so that there was a long, deep pool in the beach with a high ledge of pink granite at the further end. Ralph had been deceived before now by the specious appearance of depth in a beach pool and he approached this one preparing to be disappointed. But the island ran true to form and the incredible pool, which clearly was only invaded by the sea at high tide, was so deep at one end as to be dark green. Ralph inspected the whole thirty yards carefully and then plunged in. The water was warmer than his blood and he might have been swimming in a huge bath.

Piggy appeared again, sat on the rocky ledge, and watched Ralph’s green and white body enviously.

You can’t half swim.

Piggy.

Piggy took off his shoes and socks, ranged them carefully on the ledge, and tested the water with one toe.

It’s hot!

What did you expect?

I didn’t expect nothing. My auntie—

Sucks to your auntie!

Ralph did a surface dive and swam under water with his eyes open; the sandy edge of the pool loomed up like a hillside. He turned over, holding his nose, and a golden light danced and shattered just over his face. Piggy was looking determined and began to take off his shorts. Presently he was palely and fatly naked. He tiptoed down the sandy side of the pool, and sat there up to his neck in water smiling proudly at Ralph.

Aren’t you going to swim?

Piggy shook his head.

I can’t swim. I wasn’t allowed. My asthma—

Sucks to your ass-mar!

Piggy bore this with a sort of humble patience.

You can’t half swim well.

Ralph paddled backwards down the slope, immersed his mouth and blew a jet of water into the air. Then he lifted his chin and spoke.

I could swim when I was five. Daddy taught me. He’s a commander in the Navy. When he gets leave he’ll come and rescue us. What’s your father?

Piggy flushed suddenly.

My dad’s dead, he said quickly, and my mum—

He took off his glasses and looked vainly for something with which to clean them.

I used to live with my auntie. She kept a candy store. I used to get ever so many candies. As many as I liked. When’ll your dad rescue us?

Soon as he can.

Piggy rose dripping from the water and stood naked, cleaning his glasses with a sock. The only sound that reached them now through the heat of the morning was the long, grinding roar of the breakers on the reef.

How does he know we’re here?

Ralph lolled in the water. Sleep enveloped him like the swathing mirages that were wrestling with the brilliance of the lagoon.

How does he know we’re here?

Because, thought Ralph, because, because. The roar from the reef became very distant.

They’d tell him at the airport.

Piggy shook his head, put on his flashing glasses and looked down at Ralph.

Not them. Didn’t you hear what the pilot said? About the atom bomb? They’re all dead.

Ralph pulled himself out of the water, stood facing Piggy, and considered this unusual problem.

Piggy persisted.

This an island, isn’t it?

I climbed a rock, said Ralph slowly, and I think this is an island.

They’re all dead, said Piggy, an’ this is an island. Nobody don’t know we’re here. Your dad don’t know, nobody don’t know—

His lips quivered and the spectacles were dimmed with mist.

We may stay here till we die.

With that word the heat seemed to increase till it became a threatening weight and the lagoon attacked them with a blinding effulgence.

Get my clothes, muttered Ralph. Along there.

He trotted through the sand, enduring the sun’s enmity, crossed the platform and found his scattered clothes. To put on a grey shirt once more was strangely pleasing. Then he climbed the edge of the platform and sat in the green shade on a convenient trunk. Piggy hauled himself up, carrying most of his clothes under his arms. Then he sat carefully on a fallen trunk near the little cliff that fronted the lagoon; and the tangled reflections quivered over him.

Presently he spoke.

We got to find the others. We got to do something.

Ralph said nothing. Here was a coral island. Protected from the sun, ignoring Piggy’s ill-omened talk, he dreamed pleasantly.

Piggy insisted.

How many of us are there?

Ralph came forward and stood by Piggy.

I don’t know.

Here and there, little breezes crept over the polished waters beneath the haze of heat. When these breezes reached the platform the palm fronds would whisper, so that spots of blurred sunlight slid over their bodies or moved like bright, winged things in the shade.

Piggy looked up at Ralph. All the shadows on Ralph’s face were reversed; green above, bright below from the lagoon. A blur of sunlight was crawling across his hair.

We got to do something.

Ralph looked through him. Here at last was the imagined but never fully realized place leaping into real life. Ralph’s lips parted in a delighted smile and Piggy, taking this smile to himself as a

Reviews for Lord of the Flies

[blintnatc · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

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[knotbox · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book is one that you will enjoy, or won't. I don't believe many people fall into a catagory of 'between'-ness for this one. I personally adored it.

I didn't think much of it when I first read, even though it still has everything my english teacher spoke about when we were reading it Freshman year of High School. Still the embodyment of a loss of innocence, and man's inate evil, and that good cannot thrive where too much evil runs free.

What touched me most was the character of Simon, I feel that his 'seizure' in the woods was something more, in the novel, at least, than a symptom of epilepsy. It saddens me just thinking about it. Simon was a boy who was unbiased, and in a simplistic way, very mature. He saw the world neutrally, and in the way a child does, but he understood it. The moment when reality invades his peaceful state, when the Lord of the Flies invades, maddness is pulling open his seams. He lives with the terrors of the world, but the maddness the Lord of the Flies brings with him tells him to look at them and recognize them for what they are. Evil is everywhere. What the Lord of the Flies wants Simon to accept would drive him insane; over the thin edge that holds his balanced world in.

I enjoyed this book a lot. I also noticed that I tend to like sad books that make me feel dramatically mournful. Just a note.

[debicates · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Yes, I'm 54 years old and haven't until now read Lord of the Flies. There's nothing I can say that hasn't already been said in a million different ways, all over the world in a million classrooms.

I'll just say that I can now use the phrase, "They've gone Lord of the Flies."

P.S. If I'm ever in a plane crash on an deserted island, I hope I'm not the only survivor still wearing my glasses.

[ktn_vrce · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A simple story of group of boys left stranded on an island. The story does not have many twists and turns and as such is not very interesting if you are looking for thrill or suspense. However, the story captures the behavior of children beautifully.
You feel sympathy and love for Ralph and Piggy and Sam'n'Eric. You even fall in love with Jack till the end of the book when Jack turns crazy about hunting. Then you start to hate Jack. You don't want any of them to die, but eventually some of them do and it makes you feel sad. When hunters get their first kill, or when boys succeed in making a fire you feel elated. You are even scared when the kids talk about their nightmares and when they discover a beast in the jungle, but the emotion is short lived and you are thrown into the realities. And just when you are enjoying the emotional roller-coaster, the story ends, just like that.
The ending was sudden and you don't expect the book to end where it ends. Somehow, it looks like the author was out of ideas and wanted to end the story as quickly as possible.
The language is sometimes difficult to understand, and there are parts in the book where you can not understand who is speaking. The kids are British and they talk British. You sometimes don't understand the meaning of some of their expressions (specially if you are not British), but overall the book leaves a good impression on you.
I wanted to give 4 stars to this book, but due to the sudden and unexpected ending and the confusion in the dialogues in some parts of the book, I am compelled to give 3 stars.

[faedemon · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

i “hated” this book when i read it, but i’m pretty sure it was the kind of hate that was actually resentment at being forced to read, as opposed to reading for pleasure. i suspect if i reread LOTF now i’d really like it. i read it for my sophomore year high school english class (which was taught by my least favorite english teacher ever!) so... yeah. i lost the essay i wrote about it, which i’m sad about.

[tedski_tx · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good, not great. Lacking in characterization and plot development.

[thebacklistbook · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Honestly, I don't remember much from this, it was a school read ages ago. from what I do recall I did not enjoy it.

[coffeehag · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I had a good idea how this book was going to end before I ever picked it up. I wanted to understand how a society devolves into chaos and violence. This book helped me realize afresh that people do not necessarily (or even often) follow a leader because s/he's wise or intelligent. People will often follow the biggest bully, the loudest, most obnoxious person. Many people don't want the responsibility of leadership, nor would they have the charisma to lead. But leadership without wisdom is dangerous indeed.

The only thing I did NOT like about this book was the afterward by Lori Lowry, who claims to hate the uniformed officer at the end, the representative of civilization, who introdudes on the children's world: "How dare he?" she asks. Apparently, she would rather that Ralph had been slaughtered like a pig by the children-turned-savage. Perhaps, rather than despising the order represented by the uniformed officer, we should recognize that, as ugly and savage as mankind can become, it is also capable of great beauty, and that that beauty does not always assert itself amid chaos.

[clara53_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Not being born in the West, I didn't know much about this book. Later, when already living here, as I came to know that it had won the Nobel Prize, it intrigued me and was on my list for a while. But once I read it, I could see why it is part of the high school reading curriculum here (provided the high school students are mature enough to digest it, I thought...). It shocked me in so many ways; it's poignant and difficult to read without wincing. But I could see the point the author was trying to make - in view of the modern world; he was as if warning us: order or chaos, rule of law or disorder - what might be the consequences...

[a.godhelm · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

One of those core texts you ought to have read in your teens, and if'n you didn't, it'll have a lot harder time pulling you with the spiralling madness of the hunting circle and the consequences on anprim life.

[Miguel parra · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A group of children survives a plane crash and has to fend for themselves on an island. They organize for survival and establish rules for cohabitation. Power is entrusted to one of them, but power is always contested. Differences arise when the Lord of the Flies makes his appearance, and everything turns into chaos. Golding reminds us with this novel that regardless of survival, power takes on vital importance. (Translated from Spanish)

[jonbrammer-788089 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book is very teachable to high school students; it's a candy-coated pill to introduce broad and bleak themes about the human condition, and while there certainly are a lot of mid-20th century Britishisms in the dialogue, most American teenagers can sympathize with the plight of the castaway boys. The allegory and symbolism found in this book is rich and complex, but it's also a ripping good adventure story.

What is hardest about rereading LOTF for the umpteenth time is the knowledge of the horror that lies within. I give my students insight to the Freudian view of allegory here, but it reminds us that the struggle within our psyche as human beings is tragic - our existence is tragic.

Reread 2018 - It's difficult to really unpack my feelings about this novel, because it pushes so many of my white male European-heritage buttons. There is a postcolonial critique about the savagery the boys descending into resembling many hunter-gatherer societies, but I think Golding's point is more about the civilizations we construct in Western countries being more "savage" and spiritually hollow than those in a pre-industrial state.

At times the allegory is confused because of the multiple layers. What causes Jack and Roger to be more primitive while Ralph and Piggy are more civilized? Golding never answers this question satisfactorily, although it has something to do with killing pigs and fearing beasties.

Reread 2019 - I know this novel a little too well. I ask students what genre it fits into - fantasy, sci fi, horror, adventure? It seems that Golding intended it to be a dark satire on the boys adventure novels that were popular at that time, and the quasi colonialist themes espoused within. "The English are best at everything," says Jack, setting the table for a complete reversal.

[Diego358 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very good book, interesting from beginning to end. It is excellent for analyzing the human condition, behavior, and society. It is short and the reading is light. (Translated from Spanish)

[atreic · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Gosh, this is even bleaker than my hazy memories remember! Is this the message we want to impart to all GCSE children out of all the books in the world?

In the unlikely event that there are people left out there who don't know the plot, this is the story of a posse of school children who are stranded on a tropical island, after their plane crashes when they are being evacuated (there is a hazy WWIII theme going on in the background).

Despite some initial good will the boys soon schism - Ralph, the athletic upstanding son of a navel officer and all around Hero representing civilisation and keeping the fire going in the hope of rescue, and Jack representing savagery and hunting and the barbaric darkness in the heart of man if civilisation should ever falter.

The book powers on and is unputdownable. Despite the characters being cyphers to tell the story, you still find yourself feeling for them. Poor Simon, with his deep intuitive understanding, too terrified to speak. Piggy, with his weight and his asthma and his spectacles, being the main force for educated reason, but also mocked by all.

Like many books of its time, the most interesting characters are killed to help the Hero have his story arc. Yes, I'm pleased that brave Ralph makes it out alive, but the fat ones and the weak ones are foils to show the evilness of humanity and add terror to Ralph's story.

It is of course, deeply racist. The drawing of the loss of civilisation is deeply entwined with images of n*ggers, island savages, face paint and hunting with spears. As though civilisation and reason and caring for the weak are a White Mans prerogative, and all island people were savage reasonless hunters.

I found myself more inclined to read it as a christian allegory this time. The fire must be kept burning, because our eyes must be on Rescue from the Island, not on indulging our base desires for meat and hunting.

And I know the point is to set up a false dichotomy to tell a morality tale about the darkness of the human condition, but really, you can't help but think there is a huge excluded middle if you face onto it as a story, not an analogy. Ralph is sensible to want to build a fire, but there is some chance all other humans have been wiped out, and Jack is right that hunting has a place in survival as well.

It definitely felt like it had been written by someone well versed in office politics. The slow sliding away, the slights, the factions, the half-had arguments with no resolution that turn into bitter burning hatred...

Anyway, I definitely see why it is a classic, and it is an unputdownable and moving read. But wow, it's dark!

[e_morgan_huhn · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Read in May of 2023 while in El Salvador, I enjoyed this book more than I initially expected. The development of Ralph as an individual, grappling with the loss of civilization, was an interesting theme throughout the work. The deaths and phasing of the loss of civilization, from the accidental, to the frenzied, and finally to the intentional turning away from social mores posed an interesting (and, unfortunately, likely) depiction of the disintegration of civilization in the face of personal crisis. As a high schooler I thought this book was a drag, but today the book strikes differently. At the same time, I wonder how different this book would be if it was written today - with our postmodern emphasis on individualism and instant gratification. We all hope to be Ralph, but fear that we will really become one of the savages under Jack.

[beauxarts79 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

While the themes, symbols, and metaphors have rightfully sustained this novel's place in the canon, the prose can be painfully inelegant and clumsy.

[romymc · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This was required reading in high school, so I gave it a try. A frightening story, but I don't see its importance so much now. We've all seen how society crumbles in many ways.

[funstm · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I was forced to read this at school. It's depressing, sad and not worth even reading. It could be that the study of the symbolism within the pages has left me scarred, but it could just as easily be that this book was just bad.

[lavender3-149720 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Really glad there were no girls...

[adday · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

a bit convoluted (Translated from Spanish)

[kslade-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good but horrific story of children who survive on an island and lose their civilized behaviors.

[benkaboo-51322 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Summary: A story about 'boys being boys' and finding out what happens when mum isn't around to say 'stop that silliness now and come in for your tea'.

Things I liked:

Characters: Simon, Ralph, Jack, Piggy all felt quite real in the dialogue and actions. This kept me close to them and made me care. The story often makes you want to pull away so good believable characters were a great asset.

Short: I love that quality authors are able to do more with 150 pages than airport fiction hacks (which I also love reading) are able to churn out in a trilogy of 1200 page monsters. The story breaks up into the classic thirds (roughly 50 pages a pop). I respect that a lot as it shows discipline or just quality story telling.

Made me think about me: Would I act like Jack or Ralph. How would my young son survive as one of the 'littleuns'. Anything that gets you thinking is a good book in my estimation.

Things I thought could be improved:

Long dreamy descriptions of stuff: Some of the descriptions I thought were a bit too poetic and made it difficult to clearly imagine some of the scenes of the island. Maybe sometimes he could have just explained the scene rather than waxing lyrical.

Highlight:

I think Piggy's description of 'what's right is right' was a highlight I'm going to him with this conch in my hands. I'm going to hold it out. Look, I'm goin' to say, you're stronger than I am and you haven't got asthma. You can see, I'm goin' to say, and with both eyes. But I don't ask for my glasses back, not as a favor. I don't ask you to be a sport, I'll say, not because you're strong, but because what's right's right. Give me my glasses, I'm going to say--you got to!

[sriddell_8 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I've wanted to read this classic for a while. Unlike many, this wasn't part of any assigned reading in high school or college.

I think most people know the basic plot. A group of young boys are stranded on a Pacific island as part of an evacuation. The setting is an imaginary WW-III.

This is a very grim view of humanity and how quickly we revert to a savage state without civilization around us. A cautionary tale of the dangers of groupthink and mob mentality. In an ironic twist, the boys are stranded on an island due to war, and eventually come to fight viciously over power and who should be in control.

[romleone · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very good portrayal of the human being, in a fiction it shows us the contrast between civilization and barbarism and how that border is a very thin line, highly recommended. (Translated from Spanish)

[MinerveSeArg · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A group of English boys, children and pre-adolescents, crash on an island while being evacuated due to the war. The pilot of the plane, the only adult, dies, so the group of children instinctively begins to organize a society. But soon, problems arise within the group.

In "Lord of the Flies," we will witness the decline of the morality of children, the use of fear, religion, the value of life, and above all, the answer to the question... Are we evil by nature? (Translated from Spanish)

[jfranklin592262 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A childhood favorite! I still love it as an adult. This is yet another example of a classic that gets criticized by "modern readers" for ridiculous reasons. It's an entertaining read that has all the elements of a page turner, while also displaying human nature, teaching life lessons and sending a deeper message.

[sharonmariabidwell · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Have to confess I’ve never read this, so I thought I’d listen to it as a compromise. Owing to its reputation, I expected a far more brutal story. No doubt much is lost owing to what once was shocking pales in significance as time progresses. Still, undoubtedly a classic and deserving of such status.

[AlejandraAbraham · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really liked this work!
It tells the story of a group of children who end up on a deserted island. They confront civilization with barbarism, both inherent to humans. (Translated from Spanish)

[lejoca14 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A group of young students from a military school are stranded on an island, becoming castaways. They divide between those who choose "anarchy" and those who want to coexist in "civilization." It reflects the evolution of human evil, instinct, leadership, and group behavior.

"There was the dazzling world of hunting, tactics, skill, and wild joy; and there was also the world of longing and bewildered common sense." (Translated from Spanish)

[angelalam-300700 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I did not like this book. It was brilliant--like Survivor--but it was horrid for a sensitive preteen to assimilate without leaving an indelible scar.