‘Lord Of the Flies’ was a book which had a title that chilled me to the bones even when I was a 12 year old ravenously devouring horror stories. The notions of savages and cannibalism which were the two words jumping out at me from the synopsis were enough to cause my guts to churn. This strange feeling persisted, till recently when I came across the book dressed up in an innocently colourful hard cover at our splendid newest library.

I’ve always been intrigued by the title, wondering what or who that ‘lord’ was.

A group of British schoolboys on an expedition get marooned on a sunny tropical island, with no adults, no survival skills and no experience of island living except for what they’ve read in Robinson Crusoe and the likes of such tales. Initially, they are civilised, organised and even hold assemblies to decide upon what to do. But as the days past, a savagery starts to emerge in them, they talk about hunting, killing and drawing blood from their prey, to the extent that they even start painting their faces and living in a tribe. Eventually, there is a power struggle as Ralph, the former head, who is level-headed and focussed on rescue is pitted against the blood thirsty Merridew and Roger, who are concerned about hunting, about using violence to resolve disputes, who steal fire from the others and build their own fort against the others.
The initial quarrels gravitate to the death of Simon, one of their own. He is clubbed and speared albeit accidentally, when the tribe is caught up in one of their almost ritualistic play-acting of the hunt.
Soon, the entire tribe turns against Piggy, the only one with brains in this group, and against Ralph. The conch, which bears the representation of order and civlisation amongst them, is crushed into smittereens, signifying the final descent into savagery.
Following the two unfortunate deaths, the rest turn against Ralph, and start hunting him with promises of ‘a spear sharpened at both ends’. Chilling indeed, as we see such innocent children playing by the lagoon transformed into painted faces welding spears and attacking fellow human beings.

I feel that Golding uses this novel to portray that men are inherently evil / savage / primal and that if there weren’t any civilisation or technology to bring us forward we would be stuck in a rut – killing, hunting and fighting each other to assert power over one another. I’m not sure whether I agree or not. Remember how there’s this Chinese Idiom that says that people are innately innocent? Or perhaps we are not born evil but circumstances force us to become ‘evil’ in order to survive? That would explain for office politics wouldn’t it? Of backstabbers and whistle blowers, and the whole myriad of undesirable characters…

Nevertheless, I’m glad I finally read it, that’s one less thing in this world that creeps me out. :D