Free Edition January 2012
Looking Past The Words
William Golding: A Literary Legend An Investigators View
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s t n e t
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4-5 Investigators view Island Explorations 6-7 Bright Eyes Song Review 8-9 Poem and Review
10-11 Alternate Ending 2
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He moved the conch gently, looking beyond them at nothing
Remembering the beastie
The talk of fear The Buzz
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Day 1: Island Explorations y name is Emily Boyd and I have been commissioned by the British Government to investigate a remote, uninhabited island where a group of adolescent boys were marooned for a month after their plane crashed in the remote Pacific. A rescue group saved the castaways, but were astonished to find the bodies of three, a forest engulfed in fire, and other evidence of savagery run wild. Â What transpired during this time can only be described as appalling, sickening, and sadly, human. I have spoken to most of the boys who inhabited island, however their stories are contradicting. The following is a page from my journal when I was exploring the island, collecting my evidence. Early this morning I awoke to the sound of metal clashing against the beach. I stood up and explored it. The metal was dented and rusty, the piece obviously didnâ€™t belong here, it was out of place in this remote area. Curiosity overtook me, I walked along the edge of the beach in attempt to find further remains. I found several pieces of metal, all dented and rusted as the first, but one piece in particular caught my attention. The piece was shaped that of a flower pedal, oblong and rather thin. A propeller. Â This could likely be from the plane that once carried the boys. Judging by the rust and poor shape of the propeller I can tell that it has likely been tumbling through this ocean for months.
Island Explorations Part Two
This afternoon I explored further, reaching the rocky cliffs of the island. The rocks create a seemingly black ocean with choppy waters, every rock is jutted out of the ground giving it a menacing character. Amongst the black rock, I saw a creamy pink shard, a shining sliver of bliss amid the desolate gloom. I cross the rock, my fingers reach for the glinting shard, this is a perfect piece of evidence. The place in which I found the conch is, as a boy named Ralph proves, the spot in which Piggy died. My belief is that Piggy had the conch in hand as he died. According to Ralph the conch was a horn of sorts, used to summon meeting. I believe that this shard belongs to that particular conch. The conch, when blown just right releases a deep bellow of noise. As I was told by Ralph, one of the so-called leaders in the time they lived here, the conch was used as a horn, to signal a meeting.Â With the shard in pocket, I continue my journey. Mid-afternoon I stumble across a field of charred rubble. The field is a black clearing, a singed opening, a black spot in the midst of the forest. I kick a burnt stump and it disintegrates as it hits the ground. Thereâ€™s nothing else in the clearing but a pair of thick lensed glasses, the glass is cracked, the rims broken. I collected the glasses in a small bag. I believe these specks belonged to Piggy. The poor boy died on the island and was only mentioned by one. Although Ralph, the person who mentioned him, was without a proper name for this boy, Piggy was one of the ones found dead. The short, chubby body was found not only sprawled out and bloody, but crushed, his head compressed by a giant boulder.
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BRIGHT EYES Is it a kind of dream, Thereâ€™s a high wind in Floating out on the tide, the trees, Following the river of A cold sound in the air, death downstream? And nobody ever knows Oh, is it a dream? when you go, And where do you start, Thereâ€™s a fog along the Oh, into the dark. horizon, A strange glow in the Bright eyes, sky, burning like fire. And nobody seems to Bright eyes, know where you go, how can you close and And what does it mean? fail? Oh, is it a dream? How can the light that burned so brightly Bright eyes, Suddenly burn so pale? Burning like fire. Bright eyes. Bright eyes, How can you close and Bright eyes, fail? burning like fire. How can the light that Bright eyes, burned so brightly how can you close and Suddenly burn so pale? fail? Bright eyes. How can the light that burned so brightly Is it a kind of shadow, Suddenly burn so pale? Reaching into the night, Bright eyes. Wandering over the Lyrics by: Mike Batt hills unseen, Performed by: Art Garfunkel, Or is it a dream? Fate for Break Released: 1979
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Following The River Of Death The song, although slightly obscured by poetic terms, conveys the true blindness and ignorance of human kind. It especially focuses on the range of human capacity for unintelligence. The lines “how can the light that burned so brightly suddenly burn so pale” situates this precisely. Light in many literary instances represents knowledge, or more so the contrast between intelligence and utter stupidity. The difference between bright and pale in this instance is the difference between intelligence and unintelligence. Having said this, what really makes the song is the complex poetic
language used. The line “following the river of death downstream” is a very good example of a powerful metaphor. This metaphor creates an image of a rather gloomy, dark looking setting. The quote of course, is expressing a path towards death or a path of death left behind. Some lyrics from the song say,“There’s a fog along the horizon, a strange glow in the sky, and nobody seems to know where to go” are very symbolic. The fog symbolizes confusion, or rather, the inability to see clearly. The horizon, although fairly obvious, represents the near future.
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majority of the books duration, the boys are murderous, fierce, disturbed. Savagery runs wild and I believe that this barbarous nature is whats blinding them, or, so to speak, acting as the fog. The portion of the song that reads “and nobody seems to know where to go” aligns itself perfectly with the boys mental adventures. The boys were in a state of confusion, unsure which path to follow, the one of civil approval, or that of their natural instincts. This fork in choice is what relates it back to “not knowing where to go” and of course joins the two literary pieces together.
A Theory From The Editor
I wish to take the time to explain to you, my dear reader, the deep parallels between two phenomenal works of literature. On one hand you have the grieving, rather depressing but truly astonishing novel of “Lord of the Flies” written by William Golding. On the other, the song “Bright Eyes” by Simon and Art Garfunkel, which expresses the seeming blindness of humanity. However different, these two pieces are joined at heart. Their messages being of course, the weakness of will, and the nature each person hides within. With this in mind, I’d like to draw your attention to William Golding’s novel. For the
Where Iâ€™m From
I am the shadowy mountain, from the water laden shelter I am the raindrops at nightfall, shining, shimmering in the moonlight From fresh bathing in sweet waters I am the harsh sand between my toes, The splinters in my calfs and foot soles From the salty sweet ocean air that nips at my tongue I am from the boat s heavy smoke upon horizon Oh how my eyes gleamed in hope I am from the conchs haunting bellow that echoes in my ears still, Reminiscent from the cracked lenses of Piggy s glasses I am from insatiable power, from the chants that shout chief I am from disagreements, controversial views, jealousy Separation shaped my soul I am alone I am from deaths cold grasp From the fear that is seared in every boys eyes From desolation and from negligence I am from the rancidness pigs head whoâ€™s stench has charred my nostrils From fire that still burns behind my eyes From the tears and bloodshed of the littleuns I am from running, hiding, survival is against me But most of all, I am from war, I am the scum scraped off the bottom of the barrel of humanity, from bitterness and from sorrow... after all, I am but human.
DING TE EN ALTERNA
escue, at last, savior. As the cruiser pulled away from the beach, Ralph let out a sigh of relief, he rested his head in his hands. His gaze fell to the lapping water at the side of the boat. The edges of each wave foamed and frothed before subsiding back into the oceans abyss, each time a light spray of water splashed upon his face, it smelt and tasted of salt. His sight fell upon his own reflection, He lifted his face to view the horizon, the radiant light blistering his eyes just as a rough, muffled voice came from behind. “Harsh times” the voice said.
the nameless, faceless per son was far too close for comfort. Shifting nervously, Ralph’s mind fixated on the hands of the foreign individual. The fingers were meaty, sausage like, affixed to the hand in an awkward disjointed manner, the knuckles protruding from beefy fingers. These were obviously the hands of a man. Ralph then examined his own hands. Polar opposite from that of the mans, his fingers were spindly and skeletal, segregated veins rupturing the skin of his backhand. However there was one resemblance between the two of their hands. Both of their hands were caked in filth.
Ralph could do nothing but nod, unsure of whether or not the voice “Don’t bother”, the voice said as it was speaking to him or he was spoke again, “This ships got its fair simply hallucinating. A hand share of grit already” drifted through his vision and his eyes followed it down to the rail,
inally gathering the backbone to the voices owner, Ralph gazed up, unease oozed down his spine. The man was nothing but a silhouette, the suns glaring light slightly blocked by his bulky head. His shoulders were slumped, muscles prominent in every section of his body but somehow unable to support his head, it hung heavily towards his chest. With arms widely built, the contours of each and every muscle were highlighted in such a way they were the prime of his vague appearance. He looked menacing, hostile like the boys at camp at first glance. Upon further inspection however, the mans cheek bones were rigid, his jaw clenched. The light from the sun reflected off of something peculiar, glistening on the mans cheek, it was with total recognition of his own emotion that Ralph realized the puzzling reflection was, in fact, a tear. The man no longer unsettled him, his entire stance and emotion changed in Ralph’s own mind. Without warning, Ralph’s eyes began to well up his vision blurring, and sinuses burning. He quickly shut his eyes as the tears streamed along his cheek bone and rolling down off his chin. His throat clenched up as he refrained a sob. Months have passed by and Ralph and the others have been witout order, without the 12
constraints of society to keep them civil, and he has cried more in the last few months than the rest of his life combined. Finally, Ralph spoke, with voice shaking and head spinning; “Has the war ended?” The man grunted, “Gunfire has ceased, but the war is far from over” Rather perplexed, Ralph looked up at the man quizzically. “The whole world is burning in anger, we have yet to pull ourselves out of this appalling rut” he continued, eyes resting on his hands “The carnage of the war has left us all in a slum” he muttered. “You’re lucky you avoided it” Ralph all but yelled at the man, he had failed, unable to keep the Simon and Piggy free from the cruelness of them all. He had avoided nothing. “The war was too barbaric to escape us” The man said nothing at first, instead he breathed heavily, gazing down at the now rushing water. “What happened” was all the man said.
jfgdvs,advla,vajgbnvev;pr n;ergn;qgpojfefeirgbpwvb Caught off guard by the mans comment, Ralph searched his memory, but found it all in haze. Slowly, he started to recollect particular incidents that his mind had shut out, locked away in the deepest part of his mind. Images of the burning island, Jack’s war paint, Roger’s spear, all flashed in his mind. Then Piggy, the conch and Simon all found themselves in Ralph’s head, he couldn’t help but sob. Ignoring the ache in his throat and his blurred vision, he started expressing whatever small detail he could recall. Ralph spoke of the plane crash, the brutal storm, his ample attempts to restore peace and control within the group. Jack decision to separate, Piggy and Simon’s brutal death’s, the beastie and the bludgeoned pigs head all made their way into Ralph’s grudging story. The man sighed, exhaling dramatically. For quite some time after Ralph had finished, the man only looked across the ocean surface, his stan seemingly unresponsive. Ralph felt the mans eyes fall to him, he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. After a droning minute, the man finally spoke, it appears I was wrong, you boys had your fair share of violence, apparently war was sure to reach every extent of the globe... But
this Piggy you speak of, was he without a proper name?” It was with total embarrassment and utter guilt that Ralph realized he had never even heard Piggy’s real name. In fact, he had completely blown him off when he attempted to tell him. Tears welled up yet again behind Ralph’s eyes. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t hold himself together. Guilt and sorrow were all he could express. The mans face was scrunched up in a wrinkly state of confusion. “I.. I never l-learned his r-real name” was all Ralph could express through his quivering voice. The man just lowered his eyes and nodded. Without thought or even realization, Ralph found himself hugging the man with a near vice grip. He felt the mans heavy arms secure around his back. Tears continued to stream down his face, but his mind was calm, filled only with the oceans reflection and beauty.
2’S BRIT AWARDS