Il signore delle mosche
- Language
- Italian
- Published
- 1992
- Publisher
- Mondadori
- Pages
- 239
- ISBN
- 9788804492467
When a plane crashes on a remote island, a group of British schoolboys are the sole survivors. In this isolated paradise, far from the rules of adults, they attempt to build their own society. At first, they establish a sense of order, electing a leader and creating rules for survival. The boys revel in their freedom, but this newfound world without supervision soon begins to fracture as a primal fear of a supposed beast lurking in the jungle takes hold, and the desire for power challenges their fragile civilization.
The boys' attempts to govern themselves descend into a struggle between rationality and a more savage instinct. Alliances shift and break, and the initial hope of rescue gives way to a more immediate and brutal reality. As the lines between order and chaos blur, the boys are forced to confront the darkness that lies not in the jungle around them, but within their own hearts. This novel presents a stark look at the fragility of society and asks what happens when the structures that hold humanity together are stripped away.
The boys' attempts to govern themselves descend into a struggle between rationality and a more savage instinct. Alliances shift and break, and the initial hope of rescue gives way to a more immediate and brutal reality. As the lines between order and chaos blur, the boys are forced to confront the darkness that lies not in the jungle around them, but within their own hearts. This novel presents a stark look at the fragility of society and asks what happens when the structures that hold humanity together are stripped away.
Original edition
Herr Der FliegenOriginally published in 1974 German Fischer-Taschenbuch-Verlag
Other editions (283)
Listen to the summary Narrated summary
A fierce war raged, and in its midst, a plane carrying a group of British schoolboys was shot from the sky, plummeting onto an uninhabited tropical island. Amongst the scattered wreckage and the unfamiliar cries of the jungle, two boys, Ralph and the asthmatic, bespectacled Piggy, found themselves alone. Piggy, with his keen intellect, suggested using a conch shell as a horn to call any other survivors. Ralph, fair-haired and radiating an innate sense of leadership, blew into it, and soon, boys of various ages emerged from the dense foliage, drawn by the sound.
An assembly was held, and a rudimentary society began to form. Ralph, holding the conch, was elected chief, a decision that irked the ambitious and fiery Jack Merridew, leader of the choirboys. Ralph, with the grand vision of rescue, declared three goals: to have fun, to survive, and, most importantly, to maintain a signal fire that could alert passing ships. Jack, hungry for a role, was appointed leader of the hunters. The initial days were a heady mix of freedom and novelty, the boys splashing in the lagoon and exploring their newfound domain. Yet, an undercurrent of unease began to ripple through the younger boys, the "littluns," who whispered of a "beastie" in the shadows.
As time wore on, the fragile veneer of order started to crack. Ralph grew frustrated as his attempts to build shelters and keep the signal fire burning were met with indifference and distraction. Jack, meanwhile, became increasingly obsessed with the thrill of the hunt, his face often smeared with clay and charcoal, blurring the line between boy and beast. The first successful kill of a wild pig ignited a primal fervor within his hunting party, but their neglect of the signal fire led to a furious confrontation with Ralph, as a ship passed by, unnoticed and unalerted.
The fear of the beast intensified, fueled by a terrifying encounter with a dead parachutist on the mountaintop, mistaken for the creature itself. Jack, exploiting this growing terror, began to challenge Ralph's authority more openly, his charismatic appeals to primal instinct resonating with many boys. He broke away, forming his own tribe, a band of painted hunters who reveled in their newfound savagery, their dances and chants becoming increasingly frenzied. Simon, a quiet and introspective boy, wandered off alone, seeking solace and understanding in the jungle. He eventually discovered the true identity of the "beast" - the decaying parachutist, harmless and pathetic.
Tragedy struck during one of Jack's tribal feasts, a wild, rain-soaked dance. Simon, emerging from the jungle with the truth of the beast, was mistaken for the monster itself in the escalating hysteria. The boys, caught in a terrifying bloodlust, descended upon him, beating and tearing at him until he was dead. His body was then carried out to sea by the tide. The violence did not end there. Jack's tribe, now fully embracing their savage nature, raided Ralph's dwindling group, stealing Piggy's spectacles, the crucial tool for making fire.
Ralph, with only Piggy and the loyal twins, Samneric, remaining, confronted Jack's tribe at their stronghold, Castle Rock, demanding the return of Piggy's glasses. Piggy, ever the voice of reason, clutched the conch, pleading for logic and order, for a choice between rules and breaking things up. But his words were met with brutal indifference. Roger, now a chilling embodiment of sadism, rolled a massive boulder from above. It struck Piggy, shattering the conch shell and sending him plunging to his death on the rocks below. The last vestige of civilization on the island was extinguished.
With Piggy gone and Samneric captured, Ralph became a hunted animal. Jack's tribe, their faces painted, their spears sharpened, pursued him relentlessly through the burning jungle, having set the forest ablaze to smoke him out. Ralph ran, driven by sheer terror, until he burst onto the beach, collapsing in exhaustion. There, standing over him, was a British naval officer, drawn to the island by the smoke from the raging fire. The sight of the uniformed adult, a sudden, jarring return to the world of rules and consequences, brought the boys to a halt. The officer looked upon the painted, sobbing children, the smoke-filled air, and the chaos around him, a stark reflection of the very adult war from which these boys had been evacuated.
An assembly was held, and a rudimentary society began to form. Ralph, holding the conch, was elected chief, a decision that irked the ambitious and fiery Jack Merridew, leader of the choirboys. Ralph, with the grand vision of rescue, declared three goals: to have fun, to survive, and, most importantly, to maintain a signal fire that could alert passing ships. Jack, hungry for a role, was appointed leader of the hunters. The initial days were a heady mix of freedom and novelty, the boys splashing in the lagoon and exploring their newfound domain. Yet, an undercurrent of unease began to ripple through the younger boys, the "littluns," who whispered of a "beastie" in the shadows.
As time wore on, the fragile veneer of order started to crack. Ralph grew frustrated as his attempts to build shelters and keep the signal fire burning were met with indifference and distraction. Jack, meanwhile, became increasingly obsessed with the thrill of the hunt, his face often smeared with clay and charcoal, blurring the line between boy and beast. The first successful kill of a wild pig ignited a primal fervor within his hunting party, but their neglect of the signal fire led to a furious confrontation with Ralph, as a ship passed by, unnoticed and unalerted.
The fear of the beast intensified, fueled by a terrifying encounter with a dead parachutist on the mountaintop, mistaken for the creature itself. Jack, exploiting this growing terror, began to challenge Ralph's authority more openly, his charismatic appeals to primal instinct resonating with many boys. He broke away, forming his own tribe, a band of painted hunters who reveled in their newfound savagery, their dances and chants becoming increasingly frenzied. Simon, a quiet and introspective boy, wandered off alone, seeking solace and understanding in the jungle. He eventually discovered the true identity of the "beast" - the decaying parachutist, harmless and pathetic.
Tragedy struck during one of Jack's tribal feasts, a wild, rain-soaked dance. Simon, emerging from the jungle with the truth of the beast, was mistaken for the monster itself in the escalating hysteria. The boys, caught in a terrifying bloodlust, descended upon him, beating and tearing at him until he was dead. His body was then carried out to sea by the tide. The violence did not end there. Jack's tribe, now fully embracing their savage nature, raided Ralph's dwindling group, stealing Piggy's spectacles, the crucial tool for making fire.
Ralph, with only Piggy and the loyal twins, Samneric, remaining, confronted Jack's tribe at their stronghold, Castle Rock, demanding the return of Piggy's glasses. Piggy, ever the voice of reason, clutched the conch, pleading for logic and order, for a choice between rules and breaking things up. But his words were met with brutal indifference. Roger, now a chilling embodiment of sadism, rolled a massive boulder from above. It struck Piggy, shattering the conch shell and sending him plunging to his death on the rocks below. The last vestige of civilization on the island was extinguished.
With Piggy gone and Samneric captured, Ralph became a hunted animal. Jack's tribe, their faces painted, their spears sharpened, pursued him relentlessly through the burning jungle, having set the forest ablaze to smoke him out. Ralph ran, driven by sheer terror, until he burst onto the beach, collapsing in exhaustion. There, standing over him, was a British naval officer, drawn to the island by the smoke from the raging fire. The sight of the uniformed adult, a sudden, jarring return to the world of rules and consequences, brought the boys to a halt. The officer looked upon the painted, sobbing children, the smoke-filled air, and the chaos around him, a stark reflection of the very adult war from which these boys had been evacuated.
What readers say
3.71
3.3M ratings across the web 6 in 10 readers loved it, 1 didn't like it
William Golding's Lord of the Flies is widely praised as a powerful and thought-provoking classic that explores the darker aspects of human nature and the fragility of civilization. Readers appreciate its intense symbolism and allegorical depth, which allow for multiple interpretations concerning societal structures, the failure of democracy, and the inherent capacity for savagery within individuals. Many found it a brilliant deconstruction of Western exceptionalism, highlighting how sophisticated backgrounds do not prevent a descent into primal behavior. The book is often lauded for its realistic portrayal of group dynamics, the escalation of bullying, and the way it prompts deep reflection on what happens when conventional rules and adult supervision are removed. Its lasting impact is evident in its continued relevance for social commentary and its effectiveness as a tool for teaching literary analysis.
However, the book also faces significant criticism. Some readers found the prose difficult to follow, citing excessive and boring descriptions of the island's landscape and a lack of character development, leading to interchangeable boys. The narrative is described as bleak and devoid of hope, with many finding the violence and ill will traumatizing, especially when read at a young age. Specific criticisms include the dated language, including racial slurs, and the assumption that the boys' behavior can be universally extrapolated to human nature, ignoring factors like their upbringing in a capitalist, democratic society and the exclusion of girls from the stranded group. The plot is sometimes seen as slow for much of the book, with events feeling rushed towards the end, and the author's portrayal of children devolving into "stupid animals" is considered by some to be unrealistic and biased.
Overall, Lord of the Flies remains a polarizing but impactful work. It is highly recommended for readers who appreciate intense psychological exploration, rich symbolism, and allegorical narratives that delve into the depths of human nature and societal breakdown. It particularly appeals to those interested in philosophical questions about good versus evil, the origins of dictatorship, and the delicate balance between instinct and reason. While its themes are profound and often disturbing, it is a book that encourages critical thinking and is frequently revisited by readers who gain new insights upon rereading it as adults, despite its challenging content and narrative style.
However, the book also faces significant criticism. Some readers found the prose difficult to follow, citing excessive and boring descriptions of the island's landscape and a lack of character development, leading to interchangeable boys. The narrative is described as bleak and devoid of hope, with many finding the violence and ill will traumatizing, especially when read at a young age. Specific criticisms include the dated language, including racial slurs, and the assumption that the boys' behavior can be universally extrapolated to human nature, ignoring factors like their upbringing in a capitalist, democratic society and the exclusion of girls from the stranded group. The plot is sometimes seen as slow for much of the book, with events feeling rushed towards the end, and the author's portrayal of children devolving into "stupid animals" is considered by some to be unrealistic and biased.
Overall, Lord of the Flies remains a polarizing but impactful work. It is highly recommended for readers who appreciate intense psychological exploration, rich symbolism, and allegorical narratives that delve into the depths of human nature and societal breakdown. It particularly appeals to those interested in philosophical questions about good versus evil, the origins of dictatorship, and the delicate balance between instinct and reason. While its themes are profound and often disturbing, it is a book that encourages critical thinking and is frequently revisited by readers who gain new insights upon rereading it as adults, despite its challenging content and narrative style.
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