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Lord of the Flies

Paperback - 16 December 2003
Golding, William (Author)
Lowry, Lois (Afterword by)
Buehler, Jennifer (Contribution by)
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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.

Customer Reviews

1 customer reviews Between 3−4 stars rating, 12 February 2018
Bought this "on the fly" (pardon the pun)
By: Antonius B.

The beauty of the novel (the reading of the writing, that is, rather than the watching of movies) lies in the poetic descriptions that we are offered. Some reviewers talk about the "realistic" flavor that Golding brings to the story. Far from being "realistic" I see these scenes as having a dream-like and timelessness about them.

When Simon lies in a trance in his hiding place near the clearing, watching the butterflies above the tall grass, there is a sense that time has stopped. Human time has little significance on the island. Watching butterflies may be "realistic"; but the full value of the scene comes through the words which form the... See More

less-real images in our reading minds.

They are vivid, but being "realistic" is hardly the point of the scenes. Experience is. A very new, strange, unusual feel to our lives. Isn't this the value of writing literately? Not to offer realistic images of "real" life but to offer unspoken, often unthought but very much felt experience and sensation. Anyway, the butterfly scene connects to another one, where some of the littl'uns are playing at the edge of the beach. The narrator offers up images of distant shores and time and the movement of rock and sediment.

The sheer scale of cosmic time compared to the puny activities of the children (pooping, hunting, fighting, squabbling) is breathtaking. The narrator treats us to poetic visions--what some reviewers lumpishly call "all that long-winded description." To cut scenes like this out would be like reducing a poem to some prosaic "message" and claiming that it all "boils down to the same thing". Such nonsense.


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