Retro Rants: The Lord of the Flies

Hunger Games Ain’t Got Shit On Me

Kids are shit and if you’re a fat kid, you’re fucked.

There I just saved you whatever amount of time you’d have spent reading The Lord of the Flies.  

I don’t mean to hate on this book, dear reader. Truly it’s an inoffensive little commentary on the human condition (one might even go so far as to call it a classic) but I had the pronounced misfortune of having an English teacher in high school who thought of it as the greatest thing on earth since God invented orgasms and so it quickly wore out its welcome on my bookshelf.

Not Even The Magic Conch Could Salvage This Hot Mess

Were I to put my personal bias aside I’d be able to admit it’s not a bad book but I’m not going to do that on this one and you could easily go watch a bunch of kindergarteners arguing over a ball at recess and gather the entire gist of the narrative.

Side note: don’t actually go stare at kindergartners to try to understand this book. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say that but we live in a world where we have to tell people not to drink bleach and wash their hands after they wipe their ass so I’m just covering my bases here.

Take offense at that statement? Feel like you should be able to shotgun a bottle of Tide or give yourself a dirty sanchez the next time you sneeze because ain’t no one gonna tell you how to live your life? You’d fit in just fine with the cast of The Lord of the Flies….you dick.

I’m now going to delve into spoiler territory so beware.

Still here? Good.

In case you haven’t picked up on it by now this story doesn’t have what Disney would generally refer to as a “happy ending.” It also raises the hitherto unasked and, indeed, unlooked for question of “if a child is hinted at possibly having died screaming in a raging inferno, but that child was a murdering asshole, is the reader an asshole for not giving a shit?”

I’d Feel More Sympathy For This Asshole If He Was Erased After Killing Gary

And Piggy. Sweet Piggy. Your benevolent bacon-ass was too good for this world and at the end you became naught but over-tenderized salted pork.

The shocking moral we’re supposed to take from this dream vacation turned nightmare is that children are small adults and, since adults are capable of great evil, so thus the children.

Well, no shit, Sherlock.

Honestly, that may have been a heady realization back in 1954 but anyone who’s ever had to sit next to a tiny terror coming down from a sugar high at their local Applebee’s would view that bombshell as self-evident.

And there you have it, dear reader: The Lord of the Flies has all the social commentary of sharing a six hour flight with a toddler that’s been handed a fistful of pixie stix.

Is the book worth the time it’d take to read it? I’d say so.

Are you ever going to read it again after you finish it? Probably not.

It’s just a sad reality, like knowing that sometime in the future you’re likely to experience a bout of prayer-inducing diarrhea. But, hey, that is one way to be crowned The Lord of the Flies, I suppose. Not exactly the throne I’d want to rule from but hey, man, you do you.