Un roman despre o insulă pustie și o mînă de copii naufragiați. Cu siguranță o rescriere a lui Robinson Crusoe (1719) și a altor romane cu insule și eroi eșuați într-un ținut mai degrabă paradisiac (Insula de corali, Comoara din insulă, Insula misterioasă etc.).

Dar scopul lui William Golding a fost îndeosebi unul polemic. Romanul lui va dezminți sau / și va ilustra (pe o cale ocolită) postulatul lui Jean-Jacques Rousseau: „Omul este bun de la natură, dar societatea îl pervertește”. Observație: cînd ajung pe insulă, mulți dintre copiii lui Golding par deja pervertiți.

În Viața, staniile & uimitoarele aventuri ale lui Robinson Crusoe, marinar din York (1719), găsim un personaj foarte norocos (iresponsabil de norocos!), căruia totul îi iese din plin. Caprele se domesticesc singure și intră de bunăvoie în țarc, grîiul, orzul, cerealele cresc spontan din pămîntul fertil: „Mare mi-a fost mirarea cînd am văzut vreo 10 sau 12 spice de orz”. Cînd eroul e plictisit, un papagal inteligent îi ține de urît. Natura sare, așadar, în sprijinul nesăbuitului. Pentru ca fericirea să-i fie deplină era nevoie de Vineri. Și iată că bunul Vineri aleargă spre Salvatorul lui. Și i se supune.

Împăratul muștelor narează povestea pe dos. Copiii intră rapid în conflict, se fac două tabere, „cei buni” (din ce în ce mai puțini, rămîn la sfîrșit Ralph și Piggy, apoi numai Ralph) și „cei răi” (tot mai numeroși, în frunte cu Jack Merridew). Frica trezește în copii cruzimea. Încep să creadă că insula e bîntuită de o fiară malefică. Vor s-o găsească și s-o vîneze. Firește că n-o vor ucide, fiara e doar o fantasmă a minții lor delirante. Îl vor ucide, în schimb, pe Simon, un băiat epileptic, obsedat de prezența Ei. În realitate, Fiara e fiecare dintre ei și toți la un loc. Asta mi-a amintit de parabola despre Simorg, Regele păsărilor, rescrisă de Borges.

La sfîrșitul lecturii (menționez că puștanii sînt recuperați de pe insulă), mă întreb încă o dată: Omul este bun de la natură și numai societatea îl corupe? Sau: omul e rău / crud de la natură, iar societatea îl ajută (prin educație, religie, coerciție, dresaj, azil psihiatric etc.) să devină iubitor și milos? Nu îndrăznesc să propun un răspuns isteț. S-au făcut experimente (mă gîndesc la cel inițiat de Christina Maslach și Philip Zimbardo, în 1971, la Stanford University), s-au formulat ipoteze: psihologii mai au de lucru. Și totuși: am trăit cîndva o împrejurare, în care am văzut că pînă și cel mai puțin violent dintre muritori poate deveni (fără să vrea?) crud, nemilos, viclean. Răul poate fascina. Trezește plăceri...

P. S. Deși în cei 68 de ani care au trecut de la publicarea cărții, exegeții au identificat toate aluziile (și multe altele care n-au trecut niciodată prin mintea autorului), voi aminti că numele ebraic Belzebuth / Beelzebub / Baal-Zebub (zeul impostor din Ekron) se traduce prin „Împăratul muștelor”.

”They accepted the pleasures of morning, the bright sun, the whelming sea and sweet air, as a time when play was good and life so full that hope was not necessary and therefore forgotten.”

So this was a book many people had to read when they went to school and in some way this already says a lot about “Lord of the Flies”. Like so many of the books that are required to be read during people’s educational careers this one wasn’t only full of serious topics but also dealt with ethical values.

I mean we have boys between the ages of 6 and 12 who are stranded on an island after they had a plane crash. There is no adult who would force them to stay in line; there is no authority that would tell them what's right or wrong. They are left to their own devices and even though they were doing as good as you would expect schoolboys to do, they still were fairly decent at the beginning of the book.

“I agree with Ralph. We’ve got to have rules and obey them. After all, we’re not savages. We’re English; and the English are the best at everything. So we’ve got to do the right things.”

Oh, how often I thought back to this quote when I read on with horror, every new chapter revealing another aspect of the dark abyss of human kind. The morale dilemma of Ralph and Piggy was so intense that I couldn’t help but feel with them whenever something bad and terrible happened. They were the only ones that tried to get order into the chaos but on an island without any rules only the strongest remain.

”I got you meat!”
Numberless and inexpressible frustrations combined to make his rage elemental and awe-inspiring. “I painted my face – I stole up. Now you eat – all of you – and I –“

The fight of savageness vs. civilisation was so tangible it hurt and I constantly found myself sitting at the edge of my seat hoping against all hope, that civilisation would actually win. It doesn’t take a genius to know that it didn’t. Why hold on to moral standards? Why listen to reason if you can have a kingdom of your own? Why should you accept someone else’s opinion if you’re stronger and can force them to obey your own rules? You know it better than the others, right?!

”If I blow the conch and they don’t come back; then we’ve had it. We shan’t keep the fire going. We’ll be like animals. We’ll never be rescued.”

I know I’m being provocative here but it is how it is. The strongest will always try to rule the weak. It’s been done for centuries and I doubt that it will ever stop. It’s as much a part of human nature as breathing and let’s face the bitter truth: There’s darkness in all of us. We can only decide if we fight it or let it in. ;-)

”Look, Ralph. We got to forget this. We can’t do no good thinking about it, see?”
“I’m frightened. Of us. I want to go home. O god I want to go home.”

”The thing is – fear can’t hurt you any more than a dream. There aren’t any beasts to be afraid of on this island.”

If you ask me there certainly was a monster on the island or should I rather say that there were monsters? n  Plural.n It weren’t monsters that had been there all along though. No, it were the monsters that had fallen from the sky, claiming the island as their own, doing as they pleased because they could do so without anyone to stop them. The monsters on the island came from the outside and despite their claims to want to get off of the island they all knew that they actually wanted to stay.

”I’m scared of him,” said Piggy, “and that’s why I know him. If you’re scared of someone you hate him but you can’t stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he’s all right really, an’ then when you see him again; it’s like asthma an’ you can’t breathe.”

So in the end things took their natural course and got worse and worse. The descent into savageness was inexorable and the book ended on a heavy note. I can only speak for myself but the ending was brilliant. Brilliant and shocking and so very, very realistic that it caused me to ache even more. Those stupid boys... those stupid, stupid little boys. *shakes head*

Anyway, if you want to read a really good book which will haunt you days after you finished it, this should be your choice. *lol* After all I finished “Lord of the Flies” almost a week ago and I’m still thinking about it. ;-)

Happy Reading! I hope you’ll enjoy it as well!

Those are two quotes that were perfect and moved me so damn much when I read the book. Because they would spoil too much and would give away some crucial parts of the plot I didn’t write them down in the actual review though.
Anyway if you read the book already you might as well enjoy them now:

”Piggy.”
“Uh?”
“That was Simon.”
“You said that before.”
“Piggy.”
“Uh?”
“That was murder.”

”And in the middle of them, 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.”

Lectura con el grupo PopSugar Reading Challenge en Español

En este mundo hay libros de los que nunca se duda el porque son clásicos y éste es uno de ellos. Con una premisa que ha sido explotadísima durante años: ¿Cómo hace un grupo de personas para sobrevivir en un ambiente aislado y reducido en recursos? Hoy en día tenemos ejemplos como TWD y Lost para alimentarnos de esta idea germinal, pero ninguno de ellos logra lo que Golding hizo en este libro, que es mostrar claramente como se va perdiendo la humanidad y la cordura.

Esta historia es para pensar, para medir y para plantearte quien eres en realidad. Cuando leí El día de los Trífidos comentaba que pareciera que las convenciones sociales son tan antinaturales que son olvidadas al primer segundo de desesperación, pero aquí es todo más sutil, más lento, la degeneración de la civilización como institución y ente rector es progresiva, pasando de momentos donde los símbolos lo son todo,dónde aquello que mantiene a flote a estos niños es el aferrarse a sus costumbres, pero Golding no se limita a darnos ese lado de la moneda, sino que nos muestra que ante la desesperación las personas se entregan a la locura, al instinto de supervivencia y al miedo, además de como colisionan ambas actitudes en un espacio tan cerrado.

La historia es intensa, y no da un sólo momento de descanso. Primera página y el autor ya nos tiene encerrados en la isla y ante la perspectiva de estar solos pero, conforme avanzamos, párrafo a párrafo nos encontramos con quienes serán nuestros líderes, Ralph y Jack, y nuestras voces de la razón, Piggy y Simon, si bien hay muchísimos niños en la historia ellos cuatro representan la naturaleza primordial de los enclaustrados, mientras que "los peques", niños de alrededor de 6 años, representan lo infantil, lo despreocupado y las masas, son la prueba irremovible de que quienes están dirigiendo son sólo niños, niños que tratan de sobrevivir pero al final del día infantes.

Es fácil ver está historia y estremecerte, no sólo tienes el enorme simbolismo presente desde el título, sino que para este punto todos sabemos que el ser humano que no esta regido bajo una sociedad bien establecida: siempre regresará a sus orígenes, a la salvajidad que lo llevo a sobrevivir por siglos y que, sin una autoridad bien definida, irá cual depredador destrozando todo a su paso y tomando lo que necesite.


Les presento al Señor de las Moscas, igual conocido como Belcebú (o Belzebú), Señor de los ejércitos para los cananeos y Príncipe de los demonios en la religión cristiana

Pero esta historia es mucho más que la metáfora de la pérdida de la inocencia y la actitud civilizada, contiene un trasfondo político interesante por decir lo menos, donde muestra tanto a dirigentes como a los consejeros sabios y realistas que muchas veces son prescindibles en la teoría pero en la práctica son mas que necesarios, y que por lo mismo son a quienes con más fervor se desea mantener o eliminar, porque son la base, la idea y el concepto. En este libro esos aspectos que son tangibles, presentes y necesarios, así como la sensación de enemistad y rivalidad que el libro transmite desde que comienza.

Si bien la historia es representada por niños, todos los temas que toca son adultos, y por lo mismo el tono carece de infantilización, narrándose de manera cruda y dura, pero adecuándose a como actuaría un infante. Incluso los líderes, que son de los mayores dentro del grupo, actúan conforme a su edad, y aquí no niego que de repente pareciera que logran arreglar las cosas de manera muy simple, pero me pongo a pensar que el libro se publico en los 50's, una época en la que los niños eran llevados a los scouts, tenían mejor condición física e incluso más imaginación dado el tipo de educación que recibían y notó que no es ilógica la manera en que actúan para su doce/trece años: tienen miedo, pero saben que deben actuar para lograr ser rescatados.

Si bien la historia tiene problemas como el hecho de que muchas veces se narran partes que parecen ser inconexas, cómo que provienen de la nada, especialmente en la primera mitad, y que de repente desconciertan, pero no se puede negar la maestría con la que el autor trato historia hasta llevarla a buen puerto, desnudando (figurativamente) a los protagonistas hacia el final: sin importar lo que pase, ya nada será lo mismo para ellos.

Intensa y terrórifica, es un imprescindible si es que te gusta conocer acerca de la naturaleza humana.


Comentario random: Esta historia inspiró la canción Lord of the Flies de Iron Maiden que, sin contar la trama, captura la naturaleza de la misma

Civilización y barbarie. ¿Civilización o barbarie? ¿Cuán profunda es el alma humana? ¿Somos todos tan malos? ¿Somos buenos y en algún momento la vida hace aflorar lo más perverso que está oculto en nuestros corazones? ¿Nacemos con una maldad adormecida y latente o las circunstancias de la vida nos transforman e inclinan hacia el mal? Este libro me ha hecho plantear estas preguntas. Me ha hecho pensar. En otras reseñas, he comentado cuáles fueron los libros que más me han gustado y en este caso debo decir que en lo que va del año, "El Señor de las Moscas" es el libro que más me ha impactado (esa es la palabra).
Parece mentira que los personajes principales son tan sólo niños de entre 6 y 12 años. Hasta parece inverosímil, pero lo inverosímil es algo que en la literatura se sale de su propio cauce, aunque la realidad aporta cuestiones similares.
Ya desde el principio, el autor nos mete de lleno en la trama argumental de la historia. William Golding no pierde tiempo en explicar la caída del avión, ni como se salvan los niños y perecen todos los adultos sino que directamente nos muestra a unos niños tratando de sobrevivir en una isla desierta de la forma más visceral, tomando decisiones propias de los adultos y haciéndose hombres de golpe.
Naturalmente y como en todo tipo de situaciones, aparecen los líderes. Aquellas personas hechas para hacerse cargo de la situación pero con formas totalmente antagónicas para pensar y actuar en los momentos más difíciles.
De esta manera conoceremos a los tres personajes principales del libro: Ralph, Jack y Piggy. Encontramos en Ralph una característica que sobresale claramente y que es la del sentido común. Toda decisión que pasa por sus manos es analizada fríamente para buscar un bien que sea el mejor para todos. La idea de hacer una fogata y mantener el humo constante en el aire con la esperanza de que los vea un barco es simple en sí, pero es a la vez difícil de sostener en el tiempo.
Contará con él con Piggy. Ese muchacho gordito de amplias gafas cuyo principal emblema es la sensatez. De esta manera sus personalidades ofician de equilibrio ante los sucesos que vendrán y estarán los mellizos San y Eric, caracterizados por la fidelidad que le profesan a Ralph incluso hasta el final.
En la contraparte de esta historia nos encontraremos con Jack, un muchacho impulsivo y agresivo, de esos que acostumbran a hacerse los guapos en el barrio. Tiene un instinto casi salvaje. Para él, lo único que interesa es cazar, matar, subsistir a base de lanzazos contra cuanto jabalí se le cruce. Asar la carne y comerla de a dentelladas. Hasta eso llega su forma de vivir y eso es lo que exige de sus súbditos (hay un punto que los otros muchachitos adquieren ese mote).
Lo secundarán con un fanatismo ciego Roger, un chico violento (tal vez más que Jack) y Maurice, una especie de lugarteniente efectivo a la hora de los castigos.
En el libro, Golding utiliza ciertos elementos como simbolismos para tratar de mantener algo de ecuanimidad en una atmósfera tan desbalanceada como la de esta isla desierta. La caracola es el elemento para expresarse y a su vez para escuchar al que tiene algo que decir y se transformará en un objeto del deseo. Todos querrán tener el control de este artefacto cuya función principal es la comunicación, pero pierde el sentido para el que se lo intentó utilizar en un principio.
Otros elementos tiene otro objetivo como la fiera, del que yo intuyo representa el miedo que todos llevamos dentro. Todo aquello a lo que tememos y no podemos controlar. Al principio atemoriza a los peques de 6 años y posteriormente, este miedo los alcanzará a todos.
Las posiciones de Ralph y Jack son completamente antagónicas, enfrentadas, irreversibles y… peligrosas. Tarde o temprano la situación se irá desvirtuando. Todo se reduce a cazar o salvarse y el clima se pondrá denso, pesado y sangriento.
Varias veces, se repite la frase ¡Mata al jabalí! ¡Córtale el cuello! ¡Derrama su sangre!, algo que considero totalmente de espanto...
El último de los elementos que regulan la vida de estos niños es El Señor de las Moscas, simbolizada por esa cabeza de jabalí clavada en una estaca. Este nombre es uno de los tantos que se utilizan para denominar al Diablo. Es la encarnación del mal, una especie de tótem infernal que infectará la mente de los niños más oscuros y ya no habrá vuelta atrás.
Cuando estaba llegando a la última parte del libro y ante las escenas finales que enfrentan a ambos bandos de niños volví a reflexionar que eran seres humanos como yo, como el autor o como tú lector que también, si leíste el libro puede que te hayas preguntado algo que yo sí me pregunté:
¿Somos tan malos?

In the absence of society, madness ensues. When a group of British school boys ages 6 to around 12 get stranded on a deserted island, they first try to work together to survive. Quickly tempers and egos flare, causing the group to split and turn on one another. Fear drives them further apart and eventually the line of morality is erased.

I was curious to think had the ages been different, had the school children been female or mixture of genders, had they not been British, would things have played out differently? Very interesting and more than slightly disturbing.

I've got the conch now, so listen up!

In Lord of the Flies Golding deconstructed civilization, wiping it out and showing us our world in chaos. It's not pretty. Man without governance is apt to slide into savagery. At first the castaway children on this deserted isle set up rules and leadership, but law and order is overwhelmed when the majority discover there is no immediate consequence if they give in to their wants and desires. In the place of civility, a brutal world is born in which might is right, the weak are stamped out, and the female voice all but silenced (Piggy's frequent references to his auntie).

Golding pounded away at that theme, so much so as to rankle some readers who criticize the book's heavy-handed use of cardboard cut-out stereotypes to force the author's point across. I don't deny it, but in this instance I'm okay with it because I found the outcome, depressing and disheartening as it is, satisfying as a statement and, the whole, enjoyable as a fully contained tale. Surely the characters could've been invested with deeper background, which would have added greatly to the story in detail as well as pages. Both are unessential, for the intended purpose is served...Golding held the conch and Lord of the Flies is what he had to say.

[5.0⭐]

Read back in high school and I hated. Read while back and still hated. Let me tell you why: This books just feels like a projection of the author's nihilism towards human nature. The characters are ideas not characters.

Also, I learned earlier this year that there was a group of Anglo and Tongan school boys who were shipwrecked way back in the 1960s AND THEY NEVER TURNED VIOLENT AGAINST EACH OTHER!

The books pushes the rhetoric that humans are inherently evil and that children, especially boys (especially spoiled ones, some truth there), can turn vicious almost by nature. Spare me. I know humanity has done bad things, but I don't think we're as inherently bad as William Golding thinks.

In the words of my philosophy professor: "Point to Rousseau, a loss for Hobbes." (Somewhat generalized but you get my point)

“Maybe,” he said hesitantly, “maybe there is a beast…. What I mean is … maybe it’s only us.”
…
“What are we? Humans? Or animals? Or savages?”
…
Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart.

The setup of Lord of the Flies is as simple as it is iconic. A plane full of boys aged six to twelve crashes on a deserted island. Free from adult supervision, the boys try to set up their own society. But it turns out that “the darkness of man’s heart” is stronger than our better angels, and the boys slowly descend into a murderous mob.

Lord of the Flies is an allegory, with each character essentially an archetype: Ralph the optimistic leader, Piggy the voice of reason, Simon the believer, Jack the power-hungry rival to Ralph, and Roger the truly malevolent. And, of course, there are symbols everywhere: the conch shell, Piggy’s glasses, the signal fire, the beast, and, ultimately, Simon’s vision of the Lord of the Flies.

Lord of the Flies was written in the aftermath of World War II, and it carries that same pessimism about humanity that is common to many great novels of that era. The novel works precisely because of that pessimism, because it feels realistic. A group of boys left unsupervised wouldn’t live like Robinson Crusoe. They likely would devolve from order to chaos, from civilization to savagery, from innocence to a face-painted group who torture, hunt, and kill each other. It’s dark and dystopian, yet it reflects and explains so much about the world we live in. Recommended.

Lord of the Flies is a parable of the human nature…

His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.

Ever since primordial times man is ruled by two opposite forces: a wish to create and a wish to destroy… And to destroy is much easier than to create…

There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled commonsense.

And since primordial times man is ruled by fear… And the greatest fear is the fear of the unknown… To make the unknown less cruel and dangerous man tries to placate it offering the unknown sacrifices and worshiping…

“We’ll kill a pig and give a feast.” He paused and went on more slowly. “And about the beast. When we kill we’ll leave some of the kill for it. Then it won’t bother us, maybe.”

Millenniums pass but the primordial instincts remain and they make man look for an enemy and fight.

Lord of the Flies:
Lord, referencing power and authority.
Flies, referencing something that is rotting. It doesn't get much clearer than that.

In this disturbing look at human nature, a bunch of boys between the ages of 6 and 12 (notice that this is before the age of teenage testosterone rages) crash land on an island. The wreckage left "a scar" on the island (symbolism!!). Ralph and Piggy find a conch (more symbolism!!) and call the others to a meeting. Some of them show up wearing all black (symb.... ok, you get it). One kid wants to be made supreme ruler because he can sing a C#, and another one just wants someone to be named chief so that they can organize and get some stuff done (also notice the difference here in supreme ruler vs a leader of peers). The kids vote for the leader of peers and C# boy will never be happy with that.

The conflicts thereafter show the differences in priorities as extensions of each character's personality. Is it more important to make and maintain a signal fire so that they can be rescued? Is it more important to build shelters? Is it more important to maintain a sense of civilization and rules? Or is it more important to go on pig-slaughtering sprees? In a nutshell, will creating win out over destroying if the boys are left to themselves? And if they get rescued, aren't they simply being taken to a grownup world in the middle of their own war that is as bad as the one that will inevitably happen on the island?

Before long, they are all long-haired, dirty, mostly naked, covered in warpaint, participating in ritualistic dances and animal sacrifices, and beginning to target each other. So, there ya go.

Lord of the Flies not only does an excellent job of exploring human nature, but also making us ask questions about the value of civilization, rules, and identity as well as what effects fear and power have on that system. 5 stars from me, and 2 big thumbs down to leaving any more than 2 children to themselves for more than 5 minutes. They will burn down your island.