What Choirboys Really Want
A Commentary on Sir William Golding’s novel
“Lord of The Flies”
Copyright©2005 by Cocomo Rock All rights reserved.
No balm quickens a weary mind with entertaining human foibles quite as cunningly or consumingly as a piece of classic literature. From Sophocles to Arthur Miller, we look to the classics with confidence whenever we desire to slip out of our everyday lives and journey into lesser frequented regions of ourselves.
Courtesy of Sir William Golding, I recently cast off from my familiar shores, headed for a vicarious romp through rich boyhood wonders in an island paradise. Lord of the Flies was the name of the ship. Sir William wasted no time introducing me to the small bunch of middleclass British schoolboys who would be my mates. He said they were choirboys.
In an instant, he landed me on the virgin beachead where he would strand the little tykes, an alluring tropical gem, nestled in azure sea. Forget that these boys had only just barely escaped horrific deaths at sea, in a plane crash, Sir William seemed to say. In this setting, they would soon put the sharp realities of tragedy behind them. Their wait for rescue would be a lot more grand holiday than terrible disaster!
Just think, he invited, far away and free from grownup impositions, the boys were at liberty to run utterly amok, playing everything choirboys really revel in. Their only limitations being their own imaginations and courage. At least until the “rescuers” arrived. I fluffed my pillow, savored a sip of my hot cocoa, and settled in for the fun.
As I am sure Sir William had planned, it did not take long for me to begin questioning his wisdom in landing these boys—any boys—smack in the lap of unfettered freedom. Also, as I am now sure Golding craftily planned, the urgency of my questioning increased exponentially as he lead me deeper, one antisocial step after another, into the heart of the jungle, far from the sunny shore of the choirboy expectations I started out with. Every inkling these choirboys had once taken for granted in life, along with all I had taken for granted in this story soon started to peel away like rank, dead skin. It was as if…