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Graphic: Animal death, Child death, Death, Physical abuse, Violence, Grief, Murder, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , Injury/Injury detail
Graphic: Animal death, Bullying, Child death, Death, Fatphobia, Violence
Minor: Racial slurs
Graphic: Child death, Death, Violence
Moderate: Animal cruelty, Animal death, Death, Toxic relationship, Violence, Blood, Grief, Murder, Abandonment, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Animal cruelty, Animal death, Death, Violence
(Golding’s Lord of the Flies is what happens when a metaphor puts on a school uniform and beats you with a stick for 200 pages.)
Let’s call it like it is: these kids aren’t characters, they’re walking, talking plot devices in short pants. Ralph is “leadership.” Jack is “rage.” Piggy is “logic.” Simon is “Jesus, but make it fragile.” And the twins? Congratulations, they have a personality only when lumped into a single name like a failed boy band. I’m supposed to care about them spiraling into savagery, but how can I when most of them are less developed than NPCs in a 90s video game? These boys don’t evolve—they just switch moral alignment when Golding decides it’s time to turn up the “civilization is doomed” dial. It's all very Lord of the Archetypes.
Golding can write a jungle like no one’s business, I’ll give him that. The island feels sweaty, sinister, and claustrophobically hostile. Unfortunately, he leans so hard into his overripe symbolism that the atmosphere goes from immersive to suffocating. If I read the word “creepers” one more time I’ll start slashing vines myself. The jungle isn’t just a jungle—it’s a metaphor for evil, or the subconscious, or man’s primal nature, or whatever Golding's undergrad lit professor told him once. It’s impressive, but about as subtle as a burning conch shell to the face.
Golding’s prose is bloated and self-important. He’s clearly in love with his own voice, and unfortunately, that voice often reads like a thesaurus fell down a flight of stairs. The narrative constantly toggles between grandiose Biblical overtones and awkward, stilted dialogue from kids who sound like they studied existentialism at prep school. Example: Simon dies and it’s described with so much marine imagery, you'd think Poseidon himself was officiating. Meanwhile, Piggy’s dialogue reads like, “Cor blimey, guv’nor, I got me asthma!” The tone whiplash is real, and not in a fun way.
If you’ve ever wanted to watch a group project fall apart in slow motion, but with more blood and fewer snacks, this is your book. The plot is simple: kids crash, kids argue, kids commit casual murder, kids get rescued. And yet, it drags. The middle chapters are a swamp of meaningless meetings, pointless rule-making, and “who stole the fire this time” drama. The big twist (SPOILER: humanity is garbage) is telegraphed by chapter two. Once you realize Golding’s main point is “without grown-ups we’re all doomed,” everything else becomes repetitive sermonizing.
The opening is promising: mystery, survival, conch politics. But the moment you realize the story is a slow countdown to “Piggy dies and everything burns,” the tension dies. There’s no nuance, no suspense, just a grim inevitability that flattens the experience. I didn’t feel compelled to keep reading—I just felt obligated. You know, the way you eat broccoli because you’re “supposed to.”
The logic of the book is best summed up as: Golding wanted this to happen, so it does. These boys degenerate into face-painted murderers faster than you can say “power vacuum,” and somehow no one stops to build an actual shelter. Relationships are formed and discarded like Lego blocks. The power dynamics shift because symbolism, not actual character motivation. Also, why are the littluns even here? They do nothing, contribute nothing, and exist solely to remind you that kids are helpless little plot clutter. I half-expected them to disappear like background extras in a movie.
Reading this felt like attending a very long, very pretentious TED Talk in the middle of a heatwave. It’s not that the ideas are bad—it’s that they’re shoved down your throat with the subtlety of a warthog. “Man is inherently evil.” Cool. Heard that. Got it. But couldn’t you, I don’t know, show it with some complexity instead of turning every character into a binary moral stance in khaki shorts? The result is a joyless descent into chaos that feels both emotionally hollow and thematically smug.
Lord of the Flies is one of those “classics” people cite to sound well-read, but secretly dread rereading. It’s bloated with symbolism, light on actual storytelling, and cynically obsessed with proving that we’re all monsters underneath our school uniforms. If you want an insightful examination of humanity’s dark side, maybe try literally anything else that doesn’t involve yelling about a shell for twenty pages.
Graphic: Animal death, Gore, Violence, Blood, Murder
Moderate: Body shaming, Bullying, Confinement, Death, Emotional abuse, Fatphobia, Grief, Fire/Fire injury, Toxic friendship
Minor: Ableism, Cursing, Mental illness, Misogyny, Sexism, Religious bigotry, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , Classism
Graphic: Animal death, Child death, Death, Gore, Violence, Fire/Fire injury, Injury/Injury detail
Minor: Cannibalism
Reminiscent of Peter Pan and the lost boys and some really good character analysis of humanity as a whole when faced with struggles. How we try to achieve this collective control at all times but quickly fall down to hysteria and paranoia when faced with the unknown.
I felt like this was a really interesting look at life with an island of stranded boys and how they try to survive the wilderness.
I know a lot of this probably went over my head and that reflects in the rating as I didn't understand all the themes, but I'm glad I read this.
Graphic: Animal cruelty, Animal death, Body shaming, Bullying, Child death, Death, Fatphobia, Gore, Physical abuse, Racial slurs, Racism, Torture, Violence, Blood, Stalking, Murder, Toxic friendship, Abandonment, Injury/Injury detail
Graphic: Animal death, Child death, Death
Moderate: Gore, Blood, Murder
Minor: Fatphobia, Injury/Injury detail
Then, recently, I was looking through a list of classic books and I thought “why not?”
It is so understandable to me that this is a classic. It’s horrifyingly compelling and perfectly paced. The characters are memorable, and the philosophical discussion of human nature is just as mystifying today.
That debate is: in a perfect vacuum, or let’s say… an early 1950s deserted island suddenly infested with immature and uncooperative schoolboys — are people essentially good, or essentially bad, or essentially both? I bet Hobbes and Rousseau are getting all jazzed up in Heaven, just reading this damned review.
The book itself is incredibly well-written. The story builds to it’s climax in such a profound and unsettling way, as you see their humanity chip away and their animalistic urges take over. Golding prays on the reader’s imagination and paranoia. We see the boys suffer the same fate — they become pray to their own delusions and fear, and for some, it is the death of them. It’s a story of children, in over their heads, thinking (or forcing themselves to think in order to survive) that they have it all figured out. Suddenly living to survive turns into a new way of life, and eventually, living to kill.
Damn, I gotta quit while I’m ahead. That was good.
Graphic: Child death, Death, Violence
Moderate: Body horror, Gore, Mental illness, Blood