Response

I chose the title "sometimes a conch shell is only a conch shell" primarily because I thought it was funny. And in the sense that it is society being emasculated, I would tend to agree with you about the loss of power.

I think the book was fatalistic (the lyrical prose tended to make the fatalism more attractive or at least more believable). However, Helen and Francis talked quite a bit about religion, specifically Catholicism. That coupled with Francis's hallucinations/visions made me wonder what Kennedy was getting at in regards to the spiritual lives of the indigent which, in many ways boiled down to life and death, so I don't necessarily think the two ideas are mutually exclusive.

When I read that scene with his family, I thought that we were finally getting some redemption in the story, but the return to the vagabond lifestyle (even if he had better clothes) was a sort of statement that family and happiness are (to Kennedy's way of thinking) a happy illusion, hammered home by his use of the song "Big Rock Candy Mountain" which I have a greater affinity for now that I've read this book.

I have to say that this book really got under my skin, which is a testament to how well Kennedy expresses his vision. I like the fact that he doesn't flinch when writing about the logical extension of his worldview.

That being said, I don't know that I'll ever reread this one.

I haven't read Endgame, so I can't speak to the relevance of that play but I could see the connection (in tone) to Death of a Salesman. I thought more of Tim O'Brien, Cormac McCarthy and Philip Larkin as others who are similarly bleak, though Larkin is funny enough to blunt it a little.

Maybe we'll get a happy ending in one of the books at least...

You know, Ironweed reminded me so much of Beckett's Endgame, with its pathos and fatalism. And a little of Death of a Salesman, with the futility of work and family. You're right, it was painful to read. Which is often the case with "literature." I guess there's no such thing as a happy ending any more.
So here are some quotations I found thought-provoking:
"What brought her to this uncertainty is the accumulation of her sins, and if you must call them sins, then there is certainly quite an accumulation. But Helen prefers to call them decisions, which is why she has no compulsion to confess them"
"If you love something well enough [...] you will die for it; for when we love with all our might, our silly little selves are already dead and we have no more fear of dying"
"Fornication was standard survival currency everywhere, was it not?" (Which you already referenced)
"Francis said to his unavailed-for self, and he smelled his own uncanceled stink again"
You questioned the relationship between spirituality and the poor. I only saw the relationship between life and death. I thought everything circled around to that idea, so much so, as a reader and/or character in the book, you are never sure who is alive and who is dead. The free exchange of sex in the book seemed to reinforce the idea that life is futile and meaningless. Everything--dialogue, actions--seem mechanized and robotic in a sense to me. That's where I sensed the whole Endgame vibe--everyone is already walking around dead, therefore speaking of sin is irrelevant because you must be living for sin to "count." There were two scenes that resonated with me--the Mrs. Robinson scene where Francis is seduce by his older neighbor woman. When she tells the story of the caged woman pulling the rabbit apart with her teeth. Grotesque. Also, the scene where he eats turkey with his family. Then willingly walks away from them again to embrace his vagabond lifestyle full of STDs and alcoholism on the streets. There is no hope in the book, only death and carnage. Why did you pick this book?? Kidding, it was, as you said, well-written.

Here's my last comment on the conch shell: just mentioning Freud does not mean that I am speaking of the biology of castration and/or the phallus. The phallus can be a symbol for power in general. So yes, the emasculation of civilization, or of any structure in general is exactly to what I was referring. Also, I don't believe half of the stuff I write about Freud or deconstruction, I just think it's fun to talk that way.

Ironweed thoughts in no particular order

Sorry it took me so long to post on this one. This book was almost painful to read. Don't get me wrong, it's beautifully written, and the dialogue is outstanding. But it was so raw. Kerouac talked about being "beat down to your socks" but none of the Beats had anything on Francis Phelan. This was absolutly unflinching in its examination of the indigent life.

I find it very interesting that the book was written in the eighties, the sort of pinnacle or at least the symbol of monetary success. In that sense the book could be seen as a big middle finger at the American concept of success.

I'd hesitate to call it a fantasy novel or even magic realism, because its so rooted in the visceral experience of the indigent, but his interaction with the dead is in some ways more profound than with the living.

One of the most powerful scenes, to my thinking, was when Helen gave her last bit of change at mass. There were several references that made me sure that Kennedy has a more than passing knowledge of scripture, but I was wondering to what extent you thought the novel could be considered Catholic? Is the book essentially a meditation on the relation between spirituality and the poor?

Also what was he saying about sin? what was the bit about "fornication" being a sort of currency among the indigent.

I'm not really good at going first, what did you think?

Sometimes a Conch shell is just a Conch shell

I would agree with you about Piggy being somewhat cliched, if I hadn't met several people like him. He can't function without authority. I've met people like him to more or lesser degree.

You did well to notice my disclaimer. I think that some parallels might be drawn between the Foucault prison idea and the island and the eyes. I tend to think though that the oppressive feel of the book is intended to force the characters into their more bestial self, and into the realization of their nature. The focus on the eyes seems to me to be intended to show that the boys were being hunted even as they hunted.

The island is a prison in a sense, but in another sense its a stripping away more than a holding in.

Certainly there was an us/them mentality in the book. But again it points more to an aspect of human nature that divides than to a specific literary theory.

I don't mind a little Freudian interpretation, particularly since some of it seems deliberate, but at some point it gets absurd. We can't interpret every branch, log or vaguely cylindrical object as a phallic symbol. It gets overwhelming. I'll grant that the loss of the conch shell and his authority could be seen as a emasculation for Ralph, but I think a better interpretation surrender to the beast on the part of the boys on the island. If it is an emasculation its the emasculation of civilization.

Deconstructionalists have a point in that its impossible to be sure that you got exactly what the author intended, but the simple fact is that they use language to convey the thought that language can't accurately convey thought. Up to a point they are right in that I can't be sure I understand everything an author is getting at. However, when you read a book to a certain extent you understand it. You might understand something as deliberately obscure as The Sound and the Fury or Ullyses to a lesser extent than something that is more straightforward, but there is some understanding. So I'll grant them that there is uncertainty (sometimes a lot of uncertainty) in communication, but to say that no communication via language is possible is literally meaningless since they are communicating that idea through language. I'll go with uncertain, but impossible, no.

Your sense of the drowning and the hopelessness is exactly what I was referring to by Original Sin. That he offers no hope is the point. He's saying that we are essentially beasts. Simon was a mystic and could be seen as a religious figure, though I think that Christ figure would be a stretch. Piggy represents science and civilization (he's the giver of fire and the voice of reason) and both are killed as the boys descend into chaos.

That's why I said (I think I said) that its an attempt to describe the results of the Fall in non-religious terms. He doesn't see any hope. Only distraction.

As for the man on the parachute, I think he was mostly a plot device. Golding needed something that was demonstrobly not physically the beast, but that the boys could mistake for the beast.

Another reason I would be reluctant to use a deconstructuralist or Foucaultian viewpoint on the book, is that Golding (at least in this book) seems to be a Modernist. Sure the mish mash of ideas that became postmodernism were begining to form, but he seems to not be writing with that in mind. (You refered to Heart of Darkness, which could be seen as a legitimate progenitor or at least thematic precursor to this book. And Conrad was a sort of early or pre modernist.

Speaking of the book in terms of Modernism, it was refreshing to read a book that was not so self-referential and self conciously post modern. Don't get me wrong, there are postmodern writers I love (Percy, Jonathan Lethem, Neil Gaiman, some DeLillo and I guess you could count Borges) but sometimes its nice to have a story thats not constantly nudging you as if to say did you see that? Though there is something to be said for those types of books, but every once in a while its nice to read something in an older mode.

And yes, this is fun.

LOFT rebuttal

I really don't think that an author has to write during the time of a theorist's theorizing for it to be a valid way of approaching the text. (Though I noticed your disclaimer about "some extent.") What if Foucault used LOTF to help fashion his own ideas about systems? I'm just saying that I think the ideas of us/them and self-regulation can reasonably, and almost necessarily, be projected onto the text. But I guess you won't buy it. That makes me a little sad. And, I'm just saying that to Freud, almost everything is a phallus. If we want to bring Lacan into this, the conch could be the symbolic phallus, which does not contradict what you just said. Civilization=power, phallus=power. You know, the idea that language and government and civilization are the symbolic phallus, and we have a void (castration complex) because we cannot wield the power. Doesn't complete destruction=emasculation? (Enter the deconstruction argument that language has no value because there is a gap between the signifier and the signified--thus dismantling all meaning, value and transcendental truth). I think what makes the book most dark for a reader like myself is the fact that Golding removes the stability of language, benevolence, goodness, government, so that the reader lands in the same place as the boys on the island: in chaos and violence. Reading it was very much like drowning--which may be the staring "into the face of his own depravity" to which you refer. And it's even more suffocating that Golding offers no real hope. The only decent character in the book, Simon, is literally ripped and torn into shreds by the boys. Oh, the horror, the horror. Wait, that's another book . . .
You know, the character of Piggy was so annoying to me. He was so flat and dare I say cliche? I can't even see him as a symbol for that reason. I guess in that respect, Ralph is the only character who seems to have various dimensions. I like the complexity of him battling within himself. Anyway, will you speak to the parachute man as I had previously requested? This book club thing is fun, ain't it?

Response to Lord of the Flies and to Kelli's comments

I can relate to the later re-readings changing one's perspective. I loved Franny and Zooey the first time I read it, but on re-reading it last year I was severely disappointed. Conversely when I recently re-read The Screwtape Letters, I was both more critical of the style and more moved by the content.

I had read LOTF back in high school and then again a couple years ago. Now, as with the second time, I think the main focus is on what you remembered; the dread and the claustrophobia of the island. Which brings me to what I like most about the book. Golding uses the mood and symbolism to serve the story as opposed to many contemporary writers who use their symbolism to signify that they know how to use symbolism (The Corrections comes to mind in this regard, as does White Noise, though both compensate in some ways for this drawback). I like that on the superficial level that this novel works as an adventure/horror story. The conch symbolizes civilization, but it also serves a function in the story. The pigs symbolize Piggy, who also symbolizes civilization, but Piggy is more a character than a mere symbol, and the pigs function as a source of food as well as a source of contention between Jack and Ralph. Golding realized (and this realization would do some contemporary authors some good) that if the story is terrible, it doesn't matter how good the symbolism is.

That being said, I tend toward a pseudo-theological interpretation of the novel. To an extent I can buy the Freudian interpretation, moreso in regards to the spears and the hunting of the sow than in relation to the conch (which I tend to think of primarily, almost exclusively as a symbol of civilization and the power that civilization holds over the boys, so its destruction seems to me more like a complete surrender to the beast rather than an emasculation). The Freudian point is well taken given the language you pointed out in the hunting scenes. Still this is subsumed into Golding's general sense of the beastial nature of man.

So, given the Golding quote you cited (ethical nature of the individual) I think its primarily an attempt to force the reader to stare into the face of his own depravity. He does not neccesarily frame this in spiritual terms. Beelzebub, the lord of the flies is indeed a religious symbol, but when Simon encounters him in his vision, he talks as if he's the dark side of Man's collective unconscious rather than a spiritual entity demanding worship. Again there is the Promethean element (quote: Only Piggy was [something] enough to suggest bringing the fire down from the mountain (also he's the source of fire for them), but he's killed, not sentenced to eternal punishment by any gods). Religion seems to be associated with the society that's destroyed. So there is a Beast in humankind that renders all our attempts to hide or ignore it futile.

I like the idea of the island as prison, but foucaultian analysis is not quite as valid, given that Foucault was not yet established, whereas the Freudian stuff could have been intentional. It could, however be applied to some extent.

However, I tend to think that authorial intent is important. That being said, the book primarily functions as a statement about the evil within Man.

I say pseudo-theological because Golding doesn't frame the beast theologically. It seems more psychological. However, it still functions as a powerful example of Original Sin or Total Depravity, depending on how you want to phrase it.

Chesterton said sin was the only part of Christianity you could prove or demonstrate without faith, and this is a good example.

It makes me think of Miss Watson trying to "sivilise" Huck Finn. She couldn't. Golding is getting at the fact that attempts to civilize the beast are futile.


What do you think?

Lord of the Flies

It's funny how much of a book you can forget when you read it in high school. You also fail to realize the didactic nature of Young Adolescent literature--clearly Golding was commenting on the power-repression dynamic between adult/child, civilization/barbarianism, and man/beast. All I can remember about reading the book was the horror and darkness it invoked. A Freudian analysis would work well here: the conch shell would serve well as the phallus. Also, the fact that the boys ran around the island naked with spears and they stabbed things. The whole murder of the suckling sow (incidentally, the only real mention of a female in the whole book--does that speak to the civilizing nature of women? and how a gang of boys can quickly smite it out?) becomes a rape scene with a gang of boys plunging their spears into her and Roger boasting that he proudly shoved his spear "Right up her ass!" Then impaling her head on a stick. Could they possibly have used the work "ram" or "jam" or "plunge" one more time? And the whole Freudian obsession with sexual urges turns into savage war play with the boys and they fight the superior forces of nature. The castration comes in when the conch shell is smashed and Ralph is exiled. There also seems to be a place for a Foucaultian/Althusser approach--human desire for a system. Althusser claimed that if all ideologies and systems and institutions were stripped away, humans would cease to exists--so, the first thing the boys are compelled to do on the island is establish a system "because rules are the only thing we've got" (which miserably fails because there are no adults. But this begs the question: does the system truly work anywhere? Don't we have similar acts of violence in our "civilized, adult-regulated world? Where does this sense of "rules=safety" come from?) Then you have the panopticon of Foucault as a means of self-regulation and as a facilitator of the "us-them" mentality. Ralph and Jack vacillate in their subject-object positions leaving the power position in constant flux, so that the boys have no stability or system and rarely know on which side they belong. There is also the constant remarks on "eyes": the boys' eyes, the pig's eyes. This carries out the idea of panopticon-being watched and always watching. At the beginning, Ralph's eyes had a mildness that "proclaimed no devil," and he is the only one who remains "mild" throughout the book. I am also interested in the Biblical idea here that the eyes are mirrors into the soul or a lamp of the body. I read a commentary in which Golding was quoted as saying "The theme [of Lord of the Flies] is an attempt to trace the defects of society back to the defects of human nature. The moral is that the shape of a society must depend on the ethical nature of the individual and not on any political system however apparently logical or respectable." Here I offer my Christian reading of the book. I do think it remarks on the degradation and depravity of man. I further agree the with implications that government and systems cannot instill a sense of rightness and morality in the darkness and evil of the human heart. Rather such systems magnify and amplify the lack and void in humans, and their inability to maintain anything good and pure in and of themselves. Ralph especially ached for the stability of a system to maintain order and decency and was most shaken by the occurrences on the island: "He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet." So he was crying out the most for a Savior. But the book does not offer any hope at the end, or any real salvation. I also read that Beelzebub translates roughly to "Lord of the Flies." Which shows the devil inside the hearts of the boys? I'm not sure what to make of Simon and his death? Is he supposed to be a Christ-figure of some kind? Is he offering a sort of salvation to Ralph? Then the paratrooper who is dragged around the island by his parachute? What is that supposed to be?