Review by Win Wiacek
In 1954, after many disappointments, philosophy teacher, sailor (and Royal Navy D-Day veteran), actor and musician William Golding finally sold his first novel. Strangers from Within was a reaction to R. M. Ballantyne’s Christian-centric children’s classic The Coral Island, viewed through the lens of a sensitive school teacher who had seen man at his very worst and was recuperating during the earliest era of a growing Cold War.
As Lord of the Flies, the book hit the shelves and steadily grew to become one of the most revered, beloved and inspirational stories of all time and one that has reshaped social thought and opinion. Its status as milestone and groundbreaker meant a 70th anniversary hardcover reissue, but it deserved more. Thus award-winning graphic novelist Aimée de Jongh was commissioned to create this adaptation and visual synthesis to celebrate the initial publication. The result is truly remarkable.
You may not have read it, but sheer cultural osmosis means you already know Lord of the Flies to some degree. A plane carrying a large group of pre-adolescent British schoolboys crashes into the Pacific Ocean and a number of survivors make the arduous swim to a desolate, but lush mountainous island. Shocked, stunned and starving, the ineffectual gaggle initially unite to find food and water and quickly evolve processes and systems to stay alive. A reflection of their schoolboy experiences soon divides the group into leaders and followers, as much by confusion and inertia as ambition or duty. The search for sustenance and means of rescue is constantly marred by a growing unease that their prison harbours monsters.
All too soon oppressive regulation and the nascent rules of conduct and governance – like only speaking at gatherings when holding the “Conch shell” – creates entrenched opposing viewpoints, factionalism and inevitably escalating violence.
De Jongh magnificently captures the dichotomy of a paradise that is also hell and the inexorable mounting pressure upon narrative beacons Ralph, Piggy, Simon and Jack Merridew as the drama unfolds.
This superb creation is not a substitute for the three film adaptations, many stage and radio plays or the novel itself. It is another sublime opportunity of accessing a milestone tale in an increasingly and regrettable post-literate era where direct visual information has largely augmented if not yet replaced the semantic and semiotic processing of prose. It is, however, just as compelling and evocative as Golding’s world-shaking masterpiece and you really need to read both.
