This review is presented in three parts as the collection does not form a coherent single story. The three books within the volume share a voyage, a ship, and a common narrator, Talbot, who scribbles in a journal. However, they lack a unified plot, a consistent narrative voice, and any element of surprise or narrative tension.

Book one centers around Talbot's slow realization that a parson he disdains is gay. This leads to numerous pages of uninteresting musings and what Golding believes is enlightened self-examination by Talbot, who feels guilty for not being kinder to the man when he was alive. The parson's self-willed suicide is an extremely tedious interruption to the already dull descriptions of shipboard life that make up the rest of the volume. I imagine that a reader in 1980 might have been blind to the obvious hints throughout the book as to why the parson was so ashamed that he took his own life, and might have been shocked by the revelation in the closing pages of a drunken blowjob on the foredeck. For me, living in a jaded age, this revelation was not only an anticlimax but a poorly written and bathetic conclusion to a book that essentially lacked any other narrative center. This was by far my least favorite book of the series.

The next two books, which seem to impress people less, are better written and have more solid story arcs. Nevertheless, this does not explain why the series is so well-loved. One annoying detail is that Golding links the books by having Talbot regularly reflect on how his talents as an author cannot compare to those of the dead parson every 75 pages. I challenge anyone to find a significant difference in language, style, or voice between Talbot's telling and the parson's. Moving on to the other two volumes, Close Quarters alternates a formulaic love story with silly byplay involving the end of the Napoleonic Wars, a chums subplot straight out of a Victorian boys' novel that is far more homoerotic than anything the parson did in book one, and the return from the dead of a character who should never have been in the books in the first place. Yes, Golding was so full of clichés that he had to find a virtuous maiden for our hero in the mid-Atlantic. Also, we are more than two-thirds of the way through the series and the ship has barely completed a quarter of the voyage.

Fire Down Below is completely predictable in the style of a Hollywood film where the screenwriter realizes he has 15 minutes to wrap up the movie and needs a happy ending, but not too happy as this is a realistic depiction of life. The title gives away everything you need to know about the climax of the book so literally that as I reached the last few pages, I was actually driven by a horrified fascination to see if Golding was really that transparent an author. He was. Golding drops our hero in Australia for about 10 pages before rescuing him by bringing his lady-love (who is supposed to be in Calcutta) and a brilliant future in a single page. There is more deus ex machina in this novel than in the Old Testament.

Overall, this is a barely readable series that is too long, predictable, and entirely unworthy of the veneration it receives. I have no idea why Golding chose to set this story when and where he did since the plot elements are completely transferable. Ignore anyone's recommendation of these books based on their comparison to other classic sea novels because, for all Golding knew about sailing ships, this series could have taken place on a long bus ride through the desert. The Tarpaulin language that people get excited about is rare and occasionally misused, and is only noticeable because Golding points it out every time it appears. Read only if you have nothing better to do with your time.

I didn't even manage to get through the first story in this trilogy.

The main character, from the very beginning, appeared to be such a jerk. His actions and words were constantly rubbing me the wrong way.

He seemed to lack any sense of empathy or consideration for others. It was difficult to find any redeeming qualities in him.

I found myself constantly frustrated with his behavior and couldn't bring myself to care about what might happen to him next.

Perhaps the other stories in the trilogy might offer a different perspective on the character, but based on this first encounter, I'm not very optimistic.

I'm not sure if I'll even bother to pick up the second book.

It's a shame, really, because the premise of the trilogy seemed quite interesting. But the unlikable main character has really turned me off.

Maybe I'll give it another chance at some point, but for now, I'm done with this trilogy.

Edmund Talbolt's narration offers a truly intense sense of his journey, as well as his attitude towards both the passengers and the crew.

Throughout the books, his journey serves as a vivid illustration of how he matures.

It is an outstanding narration presented through the character's eyes. However, there were moments when I found myself getting lost in the story and had to go back to fully understand.

Nonetheless, I derived great enjoyment from it.

The detailed descriptions and the insights into Edmund's thoughts and feelings make the story come alive.

His evolving perspective on the people around him and the events that unfold add depth and complexity to the narrative.

Despite the occasional confusion, the overall experience of reading this narration was highly engaging and rewarding.

It allows the reader to immerse themselves in Edmund's world and witness his growth and development.

Overall, it is a captivating piece of work that leaves a lasting impression.

I discovered this book while rummaging through my Dad's possessions. He had an affinity for books penned by Pope and Reeman, yet they had never truly piqued my interest. For an unknown reason, this particular one caught my gaze, and I made the decision to give it a perusal. I was truly grateful to hail from a family with a naval and seafaring background as a plethora of nautical and sailing allusions were employed. Once you surmount that hurdle, you encounter a mostly captivating yet at times tiresome narrative of a young man's voyage to Australia aboard a British warship. This vividly illustrated how arduous and interminable those journeys were when one could only depend on a wind that sometimes ceased completely.

As I devoured this entire work in one sitting, I am reviewing it as a whole, but in reality, it consists of three distinct books, each with its own merits. The first one, “Rites of Passage,” was by far the best. I found that it boasted the most exemplary character development and the more fascinating minutiae of daily life on board the ship. “Close Quarters” was nearly as good, as you began to witness more of the turmoil between the crew and passengers due to their constant proximity, but it started to lag a bit in certain sections. It was almost as if the most engaging characters were being squandered in “Fire Down Below” as it predominantly comprised tedious details interspersed with a few moments of action.

Nonetheless, it remains a truly excellent read if you have an interest in both sailing ships and that era in history. I have been informed that the Masterpiece series is also well worth watching. If they were rated as individual books, I would award “Rites of Passage” 4 stars, “Close Quarters” 3 stars, and “Fire Down Below” 2.5 stars. The set, on average, receives 3 stars.

I truly enjoyed this trilogy to a great extent. It's been decades since I read Lord of the Flies, and I had completely lost track of Golding. It actually took me some time to come to the realization that these books were penned by the very same person.

It's quite remarkable how my perception changed once I made that connection. It made me think that I should probably explore and find something else written by him to give it a try.

There might be other hidden gems within his body of work that I have yet to discover. I'm curious to see what other unique stories and perspectives he has to offer.

Perhaps the next book by Golding will be just as captivating and thought-provoking as this trilogy and Lord of the Flies. I'm looking forward to embarking on this new literary adventure.

One of the few books I’ve read in my life that I really didn’t want to end.

This particular book had a captivating charm that kept me hooked from the very first page. The story was so engaging, filled with interesting characters and a plot that unfolded in the most unexpected ways.

As I delved deeper into the book, I found myself completely immersed in its world. I could vividly picture the settings, feel the emotions of the characters, and was on the edge of my seat throughout.

The author’s writing style was also a major draw. It was流畅 and descriptive, painting a vivid picture in my mind.

When I finally reached the end of the book, I felt a sense of sadness. I didn’t want the story to end, and I wanted to continue following the adventures of the characters.

This book will always hold a special place in my heart, and I will definitely be recommending it to others.

A superb trilogy that is truly remarkable. It vividly evokes the essence of the sea, enabling the reader to fully share in the discomforts, perils, and exhilarations of a year-long voyage. This voyage takes place on a rotten old warship, journeying from Britain to Australia through storms and disasters. The narrator, Edward Talbot, is both likeable and rather pompous. He is a product of his era, prejudiced yet willing to gradually open his mind to new ideas. However, it remains highly questionable whether he ultimately learns anything that permanently alters his character. His world is confined to the small space of his cabin, the lobby outside, the saloon, and the decks of the vessel. He starts as an observer but eventually becomes a participant. His fellow passengers are a diverse lot, including a political radical, a naive parson, a degenerate old man, and a lustful young lady, among many others.

Golding himself stated that he disliked the term "allegorical" and preferred "mythical" instead. Indeed, there is a distinct mythical feel when these three novels are considered as one monumental work. The ship suffers damage due to a neglectful officer. There are rough seas that persist for hundreds of pages. The ship is driven towards the south, where it encounters ice. One of the officers is an unconventional individual who is an inventor and innovator. His radical ideas could potentially save or doom the ship. They might even rescue the crew and passengers in the short term but lead to disaster later on.

It is extremely rare for me to read a book of this length (753 pages), and even rarer for me to race through such a hefty tome. However, I found myself completely engrossed in the story and finished it much sooner than I had anticipated. It was truly a wonderful reading experience!

Okay--I've only actually read Rites of Passage, which is the first book of this trilogy, and which won the Booker Prize in 1980.

Its pastiche of a late-eighteenth century colonial administrator's voice is truly excellent. It conveys the character with great skill, making the reader feel as if they are right there in that time and place.

However, the structure of the book has its problems. It's rather hard to tell what the exact point of the narrative is. Colley's downfall is indeed a significant aspect, but the book continues for a while after his fate is sealed. The reason why it does this remains unclear.

Moreover, the root of Colley's malaise is so carefully stepped around that the reader comes to the essential realization very late in the book. After that, a rather unsubtle exposition is shoehorned into the last page.

Despite these flaws, it's still an enjoyable book. But given its somewhat shaky management of emotional investment and narrative arc, its Booker Prize win truly surprises me.

It makes one wonder if there were other factors at play during the judging process that led to this book being awarded such a prestigious prize.

I’m completely bowled over and truly enchanted. This is my second reading since 1992. It is outstanding story-telling, firmly based on extensive historical and nautical research.

The protagonist-narrator, Edward Talbot, is a young aristocrat with quite a few notions about himself. He embarks on a sea journey from England to Australia to fulfill some years of administrative work there. His hopes are that this will then lead him to Parliament and eventually to the cabinet. Despite his initial snobbery, which he gradually becomes aware of, he is actually very likeable.

The first book reminds me of Lord of the Flies. It describes how another passenger on the ship, the Rev Robert Colley, becomes an easy target for some of the officers and eventually the crew members due to the Captain’s dislike of clergy, which seems to give license to widespread abuse. Colley becomes increasingly ostracized. Talbot doesn’t fully understand the extent of it, and it is only after Colley’s death, through his long letter to his sister, that he learns the truth. The juxtaposition of the external and internal views of a person is very clever.

Colley’s death is a result of shame. After undergoing an equatorial ‘rite of passage’ by the crew, which is mercifully stopped halfway, he manages to rouse his spirits to go and preach to the crew and emigrants. However, some members of the crew get him drunk, and he seemingly performs a sexual act on a sailor. His deep shame confines him to bed, and after weeks of refusing movement, food, and drink, he dies. Talbot is deeply shaken once he reads the letter-journal and blames himself partly, as well as Cap Anderson. While he appears to get over his guilt, Colley’s journal and his inability to read the man better while alive have a strong impact on him for the rest of the trilogy. All this is told in the form of a long letter and journal kept for his godfather and patron, Lord X.

The second book contains a remarkable scene. The ship has been in the doldrums for a while, and when another sail is spotted and widely believed to be French (this is 1814), Talbot, along with other passengers, offers to help fight if necessary. Due to the law of physics, two large bodies on a calm ocean in a thick mist will always be drawn together. When the other ship, the Alcyon, is finally visible, Talbot is half-injured but stands rigid, cutlass in hand, full of panic and bravery. However, it turns out that the Alcyon is British! The relief is palpable.

On board the Alcyon is a young woman, Marion Chumley, the poor protégé of the Captain’s wife, whom Talbot falls in love with at first sight. The reader feels sympathy but also impatience, and is relieved when a wind gathers and the two ships are separated. Talbot spends days, if not weeks, in a stupor due to his earlier injuries and the dramatic events. When he becomes sensible again, he gets drawn into a motion by fellow passengers to attempt to persuade the Captain to make landfall in South America. Through his now good friend Summers, the 1st Lieutenant, Talbot learns of the very precarious position of the ship and that they will be lucky if they arrive in Australia alive. All this disproves Talbot’s fear at the beginning of this book that his new journal (not written for his godfather the lord) will be lacking in events.

The third book unexpectedly brings Edmund and Marion together again near the end, with a happy ever after when he finds out his godfather “left” him a rotten borough, meaning he can return to England. We get glimpses into his settled middle age when he is familiar with the PM. However, the center stage of this volume is the privations of the journey, Edmund’s deepening friendship with Charles Summers, Charles’s antagonism with the Captain and the new 2nd Lieut, Benét, and Edmund’s unexpected friendship with Prettiman and his new wife, which gives him some social insights he hopes to apply to his political career (i.e., represent a rotten borough only to dismantle that system).

The most striking nautical marvels are as follows: a) Benét’s reckless (and murderous as it turns out) insistence that the main mast can be secured by means of burning charcoal and fastening a metal girdle around the base of the mast. Later, when safely in Sydney Cove, the ship burns up. I would love to know where Golding got this idea from. Was it ever practiced? b) Edmund’s being made a midshipman by Charles and their star-lit midnight watches on deck. c) the deliciously frightening race of the ship towards a large bank of ice, its drastic change of course which, together with a current, push it alongside the ice. As if in some sort of biblical retribution, chunks of ice fall and kill the purser who had already made his way to his private lifeboat. These scenes, above and below deck, are as compelling as the nautical encounter with the Alcyone in volume 2.

How were sea voyages in 1812?

"To the Ends of the Earth: A Sea Trilogy" was initially composed as 3 individual books, with the first one emerging in 1980, and later they were combined into a trilogy in 1991.

This narrative details a year-long voyage from England to Australia aboard an old, once-glorious Man of War ship that was repurposed to carry passengers due to the scarcity of ships during the war.

The story is presented in the form of a journal by the main character, Edmund Fitzhenry Talbot, a young aristocrat journeying from England to Australia to take up a job with the governor of South Wales, arranged by his influential godfather.

It is a tale that weaves together the triumphs and tragedies of a diverse mix of England's society, including the well-off, "emmigrants," and the crew, and shows how their lives intertwined over the course of a year.

The book is written in the prose of that era, with some nautical terminology (like tarpaulin) thrown in. It offers a fascinating peek into life in those times, made even more engaging by the harsh and uncomfortable life on the ship.

I truly relished this book, as the characters all came alive. There was the stern captain, clearly not pleased to be reduced to transporting passengers, the numerous crew members, and the various segments of England's society expertly portrayed.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a good, long read of historical fiction.

I started watching the BBC mini series of this book, which is starred by Benedict Cumberbatch. He also plays Sherlock in the recent Masterpiece. As I was watching, I discovered that it was based on this Golding novel. I have always been a big fan of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series. The adventures and the seafaring life depicted in those books have always fascinated me. Therefore, I am really looking forward to another seafaring tale. I am excited to see how this story will unfold and what new adventures and challenges the characters will face on the high seas. I have high hopes for this mini series and I am sure it will not disappoint me.

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.

These simple words carry a powerful message of refusal. They can be used in a variety of situations, from declining an invitation to saying no to a request.

Sometimes, it can be difficult to say no. We may worry about hurting someone's feelings or missing out on an opportunity. However, it's important to remember that we have the right to set boundaries and say no when we need to.

Saying no can also be a form of self-care. By protecting our time and energy, we can focus on the things that are truly important to us.

So, the next time you find yourself in a situation where you need to say no, don't be afraid. Just remember the power of those five little words: Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.