Lord of the Flies by William Golding (10 down 90 to go)

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.

This is the second time I’ve read Lord of the Flies and the only work I’ve read by William Golding. The book is an allegory regarding the nature of humanity and tells the tale of a group of school boys, stranded on an uninhabited South Seas island.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

 

Bravo Mr. Golding. Easily my favorite thus far. I read Lord of the Flies the first time just a few years ago, so I already knew I would like it, and it was better the second time. Oh, I don’t know where to begin, and should I begin, I think I might never end for all the powerful emotions and thoughts this masterpiece evokes. So, I will begin with a synopsis.

A group of “innocents” or boys ages 5 to 12, are stranded on a South Pacific island, after their plane crashes. There are no adult survivors and the time setting, somewhat vague, is around WWII. Two leaders emerge, Ralph and Jack. The boys elect Ralph their leader; Ralph, Jack, and some of the older boys establish order and discipline. Ralph revels in his position and views their plight as a grand adventure. He is mostly kind and just, and always keeps a sharp interest in survival and rescue. My heart ached for Ralph. He bore a responsibility no 12-year-old should ever bear. For the most part, he bears it well though imperfectly.

Illustration of Ralph blowing the conch from my 2003 Perigree Books edition.

His chief supporter and confidant is Piggy, a fat, weak and be-spectacled asthmatic that is wiser than the rest, but impotent. He is often the subject of ridicule and scorn, even by Ralph.

Ralph’s leadership is immediately challenged by Jack. Jack has intelligence and charisma, but there are hints of cruelty and ambition. Jack defers to Ralph in the beginning, though he is clearly envious, and the reader expects treachery.

And then there is Simon, who at one point has a hallucinatory conversation with the lord of the flies, the head of a pig the boys put on a stake. The head is, of course, decaying and swarming with flies. Lord of the flies is also the literal meaning of Beelzebub.

SPOILER ALERT: The following contains spoilers.

As I said, the reader expects treachery from Jack and it comes full force. Jack is able to turn most of the boys away from Ralph, and two rival factions are created. They initially intend to co-exist, but the larger, stronger group begins to prey upon the weaker. Simon is murdered, though accidentally, and Piggy is murdered in cold blood. Finally, an island wide manhunt for Ralph is underway, and his murder is averted by the last-minute arrival of a British warship.

There is a brilliant bit of irony at the end. The crew of the ship spots smoke and fire on the island, which is part of the hunt for Ralph. Upon coming ashore to investigate, a naval officer sees the disgraceful condition of the boys and laments: 

I should have thought that a pack of British boys...you're all British aren't you?...would have been able to put up a better show than that ...I mean...

A bit hypocritical, from the commander of a warship...I mean…

I believe Lord of the Flies is Golding’s expression of his world view, more precisely his humanity view: that humanity is NOT inherently good. I know that belief is unpopular, but life has taught me that popularity has nothing to do with truth.

Excerpts:

He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one’s waking life was spent watching one’s feet. ~ Ralph

Soon, in a matter of centuries, the sea would make an island of the castle. I just love the truth and irony of the wording.

Film Renditions: 1963 British version was true to the book, but the production and acting was horrible. The 1990s version was better acted and better cinematography, but a drastic departure from the Novel, modernized (1990s) and Americanized. I don’t recommend either.

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Lolita by Vladimir Nobokov

After reading a few chapters, and for reasons that seem good to me, I've decided to eliminate this from my reading list (see rule #6). I will skip to the next novel which now becomes number 10, all others shift up, and I'll add #101 to the end of the list.

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (9 down, 91 to go)

I love the title, not sure why. It might have something to do with what the Bard had to say about life:

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing

This is the first time I’ve read The Sound and the Fury or William Faulkner. The book is a southern-Gothic, modernist novel, told mostly in stream of consciousness, telling the tale of the Compson family, Jefferson Mississippi, early to mid-20th century.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

 

The title is the only thing I loved. I’m not a fan of stream of consciousness, though I enjoyed this more than Ulysses.

Like the previous novel, The Grapes of Wrath, The Sound and the Fury is about the disintegration of an American family, in this case the once proud and genteel Compson family. Set in Jefferson, Mississippi it covers nearly three decades of the Compson family.

The first chapter, there are only four, is told from “the idiot’s” perspective. I apologize for the term; it is how Faulkner and his characters describe Benjy Compson who is severely mentally handicapped. Benjy’s account is very hard to follow as it jumps around, one moment describing the present, the next recalling events years or decades earlier, and then switching back to the present, or some other time. I suspect this was Faulkner’s intent, to confuse the reader, and thus let them view the world through Benjy’s confused eyes. You get the sense that the only person who Loves Benjy, and the only person he loves, is his sister Candace (Caddy). Caddy is headstrong and impetuous and the only likeable character in the story. She is also the only main character not given voice to recount her perspective.

The second chapter is told by Quentin, the family's shining hope. They sell a portion of the estate to send Quentin to Harvard, but he fails to restore the family to its former station.

In the third chapter, hope for the family is now placed upon the youngest, Jason; it is poorly placed. Jason is selfish, conniving, bitter, and cruel. He must provide for his hypochondriac mother, dependent brother Benjy, and Caddy’s illegitimate daughter, Quentin (not to be confused with her Uncle Quentin). There is no parcel of land to purchase a Harvard education for Jason, so he works in the local hardware store, does the best he can, and holds everyone in contempt.

The final chapter is told mostly by the African-American servant, Dilsey, as she recounts the further decline of the Compson family.

Overall, the novel is about as cheery as Macbeth, from whence it takes its title. Again, I am not a fan of stream of consciousness, but this story grew on me once I realized my confusion was probably the author’s intent.

I only noted one quotation worth mentioning. Quentin reflects on his father’s words about time and a gold watch his father gave him:

I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

Film Rendition: The 1959 film with Yul Brynner as Jason only covers chapter three and that not very faithfully. The film has a happy, hopeful ending that is not true to the book, and utterly unbelievable in the film. There is a new version under development directed by James Franco. That is interesting since Franco directed and starred in a rendition of another Faulkner classic, As I Lay Dying. Financially it was a disaster, but it was a very faithful rendering. Franco is also producing, Blood Meridian. He seems to have a passion for turning classic American literature into film. Bravo Mr. Franco, and thank you.

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The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (8 down, 92 to go)

And this you can know—fear the time when Manself will not suffer and die for a concept, for this one quality is the foundation of Manself, and this one quality is man, distinctive in the universe.


This is the second time I’ve read The Grapes of Wrath. It is a realist novel, third-person narrative, telling the tale of Joad family as they flee the dustbowl of Oklahoma for the land of plenty in California. The book won a Pulitzer Prize for fiction, and was probably the greatest factor leading to Steinbeck’s Nobel Prize.

My rating: 4 1/2 of 5 stars

 

At last a hero. For me, it was not Tom or the Preacher Casey, it was Ma. Her tireless devotion to one thing, her family, is monumentally heroic. I am tempted to “rant” about modern society, but I will resist and offer only a mini-rant. There is a notion, most often implied but at times uttered blatant and explicit, that if a woman can offer nothing greater to society, it’s OK, to be “just a mom”. What a lie! What an ignorant, stupid, evil lie. There is no greater calling. Abraham Lincoln said, “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” How many doctors, entrepreneurs, or inventors affected the world so much?

But I digress. Ma is the hero. The novel ends without a very cheery outlook for the Joad family, which has already lost both grandparents, two sons, a son-in-law, and a babe, but Ma is undefeated. She is my hero.

I'd forgotten the ending, the poignant, terrible, beautiful ending.

I read The Grapes of Wrath once before, required reading in High School. I thought it was compelling and well written but having not yet known responsibility, I didn’t really appreciate the full affect. This time, to say I enjoyed it, is not quite right. I read with a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes, or rage in my heart. It was not enjoyable, but it is the “greatest” work I have read thus far.

As such, I feel inclined to say a little more about the author. It struck me as odd that Steinbeck would follow Orwell, the communist follow the socialist, and that they should be two of my favorites. So, for the record, I am not now, nor have I ever been a communist.

I’m not certain Steinbeck was either. He was labeled at a time, when few people could give a very lucid definition of communism (actually, I think that’s still true). Yes, I know he belonged to organizations with the word communist right there as part of their name, so I’m not saying he wasn’t either. It seems to me as though Steinbeck was critical of the excess and coldness of capitalism, and if you stand opposed to capitalism, you are going to be called and may very well call yourself, a communist. Again, I’m not a communist, but I’m not an apologist for capitalism, which is not without its own disgraces. I believe Steinbeck wrote at a time, about a time, of such disgrace.

Excerpts:

Then the women knew that they were safe and that there was no break. Then they asked, What’ll we do? And the men replied, I don’t know. But it was all right. The women knew it was all right, and the watching children knew it was all right. Women and children knew deep in themselves that no misfortune was too great to bear if their men were whole.

Ma sees Tom for the first time in years, when he shows up unexpectedly released from prison: 

She moved toward him lithely, soundlessly in her bare feet, and her face was full of wonder. Her small hand felt his arm, felt the soundness of his muscles. And then her fingers went up to his cheek as a blind man’s fingers might. And her joy was nearly like sorrow.

 

And this you can know—fear the time when Manself will not suffer and die for a concept, for this one quality is the foundation of Manself, and this one quality is man, distinctive in the universe.

 

And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval, the great owners with access to history, with eyes to read history and to know the great fact: when property accumulates in too few hands it is taken away. And that companion fact: when a majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed. The great owners ignored the three cries of history. The land fell into fewer hands, the number of the dispossessed increased, and every effort of the great owners was directed at repression. The money was spent for arms, for gas to protect the great holdings, and spies were sent to catch the murmuring of revolt so that it might be stamped out. The changing economy was ignored, plans for the change ignored; and only means to destroy revolt were considered, while the causes of revolt went on.

 

The tractors which throw men out of work, the belt lines which carry loads, the machines which produce, all were increased; and more and more families scampered on the highways, looking for crumbs from the great holdings, lusting after the land beside the roads. The great owners formed associations for protection and they met to discuss ways to intimidate, to kill, to gas. And always they were in fear of a principal—three-hundred-thousand—if they ever move under a leader—the end. Three-hundred-thousand, hungry and miserable; if they ever know themselves, the land will be theirs and all the gas, all the rifles in the world won’t stop them. And the great owners, who had become through the might of their holdings both more and less than men, ran to their destruction, and used every means that in the long run would destroy them. Every little means, every violence, every raid on a Hooverville, every deputy swaggering through a ragged camp put off the day a little and cemented the inevitability of the day.

Film Rendition: 1940 starring Henry Fonda. I thought this was a pretty decent portrayal, though they didn't attempt the poignant ending from the novel. Admittedly, that would have been difficult to do in 1940. I thought Fonda was very believable as Tom Joad. John Carradine (father of David Carradine btw) was superb as the preacher Casey, and the rest of the casting was good, with the exception of Ma portrayed by Jane Darwell. I don't think Ma was supposed to be quite so stout. I pictured her more like Patricia Neal from The Homecoming a Christmas Story. Neal would have been far too young at the time to play Ma. That's just how I pictured her. If you like The Grapes of Wrath or at least feel it is an important piece of literature, I'd recommend the movie.

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