Lord of the Flies[蠅王] 英文原版 [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

William Golding（威廉·戈爾丁） 著

圖書標籤:

• Classic
• Adventure
• Dystopian
• Fiction
• Coming-of-age
• Survival
• British Literature
• Allegory
• Psychological Thriller
• School Story

齣版社： Faber and Faber

ISBN：9780571200535

商品編碼：19280097

包裝：平裝

齣版時間：1999-05-04

用紙：膠版紙

頁數：240

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：11.2x17.8cm

內容簡介

Lord of the Flies remains as provocative today as when it was first published in 1954, igniting passionate debate with its startling, brutal portrait of human nature. Though critically acclaimed, it was largely ignored upon its initial publication. Yet soon it became a cult favorite among both students and literary critics who compared it to J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye in its influence on modern thought and literature.

Labeled a parable, an allegory, a myth, a morality tale, a parody, a political treatise, even a vision of the apocalypse, Lord of the Flies has established itself as a true classic.

作者簡介

Born in Cornwall, England, in 1911 and educated at Oxford University, William Gerald Golding's first book, Poems, was published in 1935. Following a stint in the Royal Navy and other diversions during and after World War II, Golding wrote Lord of the Flies while teaching school. This was the first of several novels including Pincher Martin, Free Fall, and The Inheritors and a play, The Brass Butterfly, which led to his being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1983.

精彩書評

"The most influential novel...since Salinger's Catcher in the Rye."
-- Time

"Lord of the Flies [is my selection for The Book That Changed My Life] because it is both a story with a message and because it is a great tale of adventure. My advice about reading is to do a lot of it."
-- Stephen King, for the National Book Foundation, The Book That Changed My Life

"[T]his brilliant work is a frightening parody on man's return (in a few weeks) to that state of darkness from which it took him thousands of years to emerge. Fully to succeed, a fantasy must approach very close to reality. Lord of the Flies does. It must also be superbly written. It is."
-- The New York Times Book Review

"[S]parely and elegantly written...Lord of the Flies is a grim anti-pastoral in which adults are disguised as children who replicate the worst of their elders' heritage of ignorance, violence, and warfare."
-- Joyce Carol Oates, New York Review of Books

精彩書摘

THE SOUND OF THE SHELL
THE BOY WITH FAIR HAIR LOWERED HIMSELF down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witchlike cry; and this cry was echoed by another.
"Hi!" it said. "Wait a minute!"
The undergrowth at the side of the scar was shaken and a multitude of raindrops fell pattering.
"Wait a minute," the voice said. "I got caught up."
The fair boy stopped and jerked his stockings with an automatic gesture that made the jungle seem for a moment like the Home Counties.
The voice spoke again.
"I can't hardly move with all these creeper things."
The owner of the voice came backing out of the undergrowth so that twigs scratched on a greasy wind-breaker. The naked crooks of his knees were plump, caught and scratched by thorns. He bent down, removed the thorns carefully, and turned around. He was shorter than the fair boy and very fat. He came forward, searching out safe lodgments for his feet, and then looked up through thick spectacles.
"Where's the man with the megaphone?"
The fair boy shook his head.
"This is an island. At least I think it's an island. That's a reef out in the sea. Perhaps there aren't any grownups anywhere."
The fat boy looked startled.
"There was that pilot. But he wasn't in the passenger cabin, he was up in front."
The fair boy was peering at the reef through screwed-up eyes.
"All them other kids," the fat boy went on. "Some of them must have got out. They must have, mustn't they?"
The fair boy began to pick his way as casually as possible toward the water. He tried to be offhand and not too obviously uninterested, but the fat boy hurried after him.
"Aren't there any grownups at all?"
"I don't think so."
The fair boy said this solemnly; but then the delight of a realized ambition overcame him. In the middle of the scar he stood on his head and grinned at the reversed fat boy.
"No grownups!"
The fat boy thought for a moment.
"That pilot."
The fair boy allowed his feet to come down and sat on the steamy earth.
"He must have flown off after he dropped us. He couldn't land here. Not in a place with wheels."
"We was attacked!"
"He'll be back all right."
The fat boy shook his head.
"When we was coming down I looked through one of them windows. I saw the other part of the plane. There were flames coming out of it."
He looked up and down the scar.
"And this is what the cabin done."
The fair boy reached out and touched the jagged end of a trunk. For a moment he looked interested.
"What happened to it?" he asked. "Where's it got to now?"
"That storm dragged it out to sea. It wasn't half dangerous with all them tree trunks falling. There must have been some kids still in it."
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again.
"What's your name?"
"Ralph."
The fat boy waited to be asked his name in turn but this proffer of acquaintance was not made; the fair boy called Ralph smiled vaguely, stood up, and began to make his way once more toward the lagoon. The fat boy hung steadily at his shoulder.
"I expect there's a lot more of us scattered about. You haven't seen any others, have you?"
Ralph shook his head and increased his speed. Then he tripped over a branch and came down with a crash.
The fat boy stood by him, breathing hard.
"My auntie told me not to run," he explained, "on account of my asthma."
"Ass-mar?"
"That's right. Can't catch my breath. I was the only boy in our school what had asthma," said the fat boy with a touch of pride. "And I've been wearing specs since I was three."
He took off his glasses and held them out to Ralph, blinking and smiling, and then started to wipe them against his grubby wind-breaker. An expression of pain and inward concentration altered the pale contours of his face. He smeared the sweat from his cheeks and quickly adjusted the spectacles on his nose.
"Them fruit."
He glanced round the scar.
"Them fruit," he said, "I expect—"
He put on his glasses, waded away from Ralph, and crouched down among the tangled foliage.
"I'll be out again in just a minute—"
Ralph disentangled himself cautiously and stole away through the branches. In a few seconds the fat boy's grunts were behind him and he was hurrying toward the screen that still lay between him and the lagoon. He climbed over a broken trunk and was out of the jungle.
The shore was fledged with palm trees. These stood or leaned or reclined against the light and their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air. The ground beneath them was a bank covered with coarse grass, torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees, scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings. Behind this was the darkness of the forest proper and the open space of the scar. Ralph stood, one hand against a grey trunk, and screwed up his eyes against the shimmering water. Out there, perhaps a mile away, the white surf flinked on a coral reef, and beyond that the open sea was dark blue. Within the irregular arc of coral the lagoon was still as a mountain lake—blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. The beach between the palm terrace and the water was a thin stick, endless apparently, for to Ralph's left the perspectives of palm and beach and water drew to a point at infinity; and always, almost visible, was the heat.
He jumped down from the terrace. The sand was thick over his black shoes and the heat hit him. He became conscious of the weight of clothes, kicked his shoes off fiercely and ripped off each stocking with its elastic garter in a single movement. Then he leapt back on the terrace, pulled off his shirt, and stood there among the skull-like coconuts with green shadows from the palms and the forest sliding over his skin. He undid the snake-clasp of his belt, lugged off his shorts and pants, and stood there naked, looking at the dazzling beach and the water.
He was old enough, twelve years and a few months, to have lost the prominent tummy of childhood and not yet old enough for adolescence to have made him awkward. You could see now that he might make a boxer, as far as width and heaviness of shoulders went, but there was a mildness about his mouth and eyes that proclaimed no devil. He patted the palm trunk softly, and, forced at last to believe in the reality of the island laughed delightedly again and stood on his head. He turned nearly on to his feet, jumped down to the beach, knelt and swept a double armful of sand into a pile against his chest. Then he sat back and looked at the water with bright, excited eyes.
"Ralph—"
The fat boy lowered himself over the terrace and sat down carefully, using the edge as a seat.
"I'm sorry I been such a time. Them fruit—"
He wiped his glasses and adjusted them on his button nose. The frame had made a deep, pink "V" on the bridge. He looked critically at Ralph's golden body and then down at his own clothes. He laid a hand on the end of a zipper that extended down his chest.
"My auntie—"
Then he opened the zipper with decision and pulled the whole wind-breaker over his head.
"There!"
Ralph looked at him sidelong and said nothing.
"I expect we'll want to know all their names," said the fat boy, "and make a list. We ought to have a meeting."
Ralph did not take the hint so the fat boy was forced to continue.
"I don't care what they call me," he said confidentially, "so long as they don't call me what they used to call me at school."
Ralph was faintly interested.
"What was that?"
The fat boy glanced over his shoulder, then leaned toward Ralph.
He whispered.
"They used to call me Piggy.'"
Ralph shrieked with laughter. He jumped up.
"Piggy! Piggy!"
"Ralph—please!"
Piggy clasped his hands in apprehension.
"I said I didn't want—"
"Piggy! Piggy!"
Ralph danced out into the hot air of the beach and then returned ...

前言/序言

塵封的記憶：一個關於失落與重逢的史詩 書名：流光盡頭的挽歌 (The Elegy at the End of Time) 作者：伊萊亞斯·凡恩 (Elias Thorne) 裝幀：精裝版，附帶燙金扉頁與手繪地圖 頁數：880頁 --- 第一章：海灣的耳語與遺忘的鍾聲 故事的序幕拉開於“寂靜群島”中最偏遠的一座島嶼——阿卡迪亞。這是一個被現代文明遺忘的角落，時間在這裏仿佛凝固在維多利亞時代末期的黃昏。我們的主人公，塞拉斯·文森特 (Silas Vincent)，一個對古老機械和失落語言有著近乎偏執熱愛的青年學者，正追隨著一份模糊不清的傢族遺囑，踏上瞭這片布滿濃霧與苔蘚的土地。 塞拉斯並非為瞭財富而來，他尋找的是他祖父——那位在世紀之交神秘失蹤的探險傢和天文學傢——留下的最後遺物：一本名為《星辰之鑰》的手抄本，據說其中記載瞭繪製“時間裂隙”的秘密。 阿卡迪亞島的居民，世代以捕撈和維護一座古老的燈塔為生。他們沉默寡言，皮膚被海鹽和烈日刻下瞭深刻的痕跡。他們的生活遵循著一種近乎宗教儀式的規律：日齣而作，日落而息，唯一打破寜靜的是那座孤獨聳立在懸崖之巔的“失語燈塔” (The Mute Beacon)。 塞拉斯抵達時，正是島上“霧季”的開端。濃厚的，帶著鐵銹氣味的霧氣如同活物般吞噬著海岸綫，使得遠方的船隻隻剩下一個模糊的輪廓。他很快發現，島上的生活遠比想象中要復雜和壓抑。燈塔的看守者，一個名叫瑪格麗特 (Margaret) 的老婦人，以其銳利的目光和不容置疑的權威統治著島上的秩序。她聲稱燈塔的運作需要遵循一套古老的“調頻”，任何微小的偏差都可能喚醒“沉睡之物”。 塞拉斯在整理祖父遺留的殘破小屋時，發現瞭一係列令人不安的綫索：被撕毀的星圖、用不知名血液繪製的符號，以及一架銹跡斑斑、構造奇特的望遠鏡。這架望遠鏡的鏡筒上刻著一行拉丁文：“Quod vides, non est”（你所見的，並非真實）。 第二章：機械的低語與曆史的斷層 隨著調查的深入，塞拉斯意識到阿卡迪亞島的曆史存在著一個巨大的斷層。在官方記載中，島嶼在1888年被“發現”並建立燈塔，但在更早的民間傳說和島民的低語中，這裏曾是一個繁榮的、信奉“時間之神”的古代文明的祭祀地。 塞拉斯的注意力被燈塔核心的機械結構所吸引。這座燈塔的結構復雜得令人難以置信，它既不是簡單的導航設施，也並非純粹的照明設備。它更像是一個巨大的、被埋藏瞭數百年的復雜計時器。每一次燈光的鏇轉，都伴隨著一種低沉的、幾乎聽不見的共振，直達人心最深處的恐懼。 在島上唯一能與塞拉斯稍微交流的，是年輕的船匠卡萊布 (Caleb)。卡萊布繼承瞭傢族對機械的敏感，他幫助塞拉斯拆解瞭燈塔內部一個被嚴密封鎖的房間。房間內，他們發現瞭一麵巨大的黃銅圓盤，上麵布滿瞭難以辨認的星座圖和齒輪。 圓盤中央，鑲嵌著一塊被打磨得光滑如鏡的黑曜石。當塞拉斯將祖父的星圖碎片與黑曜石對齊時，圓盤發齣瞭一聲尖銳的嘯叫，隨後，整個燈塔的運作節奏開始失控。霧氣變得更加粘稠，島上的動物開始發齣痛苦的哀嚎。 瑪格麗特找到瞭他們，她的眼神中充滿瞭絕望和憤怒：“你們喚醒瞭它！光明的平衡已經被打破瞭！”她透露瞭一個令人毛骨悚然的秘密：這座燈塔並非為瞭指引迷航的船隻，而是為瞭壓製一個被睏在時間夾縫中的實體——“織網者”。每當星象排列到特定位置，實體就會試圖“爬齣”，而燈塔的光芒，就是將它釘在原地的錨點。 第三章：時間的囚徒與錯位的現實 塞拉斯發現祖父留下的《星辰之鑰》並不是一本關於天文學的書，而是一本關於“共時性”和“維度縫隙”的理論手冊。祖父相信，時間並非綫性的河流，而是由無數交織的“瞬間”構成的網格。阿卡迪亞島，正是其中一個薄弱的節點。 隨著燈塔的失靈，現實開始扭麯。塞拉斯開始看到“迴聲”——那些不屬於他所處時代的片段：穿著古老服飾的人影在濃霧中穿梭，遠方海麵上齣現瞭一艘造型奇異的蒸汽船，船上的人影對著他揮手，麵容模糊不清。 卡萊布的記憶也開始錯亂。他時而堅信自己是島上唯一的居民，時而又清晰地記得多年前一場暴風雨中，有一艘載著乘客的客輪在此沉沒，船上的人們帶著驚恐的錶情嚮他呼救。 在一次與瑪格麗特的激烈爭執中，塞拉斯得知瞭島嶼的悲劇起源：百年前，燈塔的設計者——塞拉斯的祖父，試圖利用燈塔的能量實現“時間迴溯”，想要挽救一場未遂的災難。然而，他的實驗失敗瞭，他不僅沒有迴到過去，反而將島嶼本身的存在與一個不穩定的時間維度鎖在瞭一起，成為瞭“織網者”的狩獵場。 第四章：黃昏的抉擇與未竟的航行 塞拉斯明白，要修復平衡，他必須重建祖父的實驗，但這次，必須完全逆轉那個啓動機製。他需要一種罕見的、能穩定高頻能量的“諧振晶體”，而這種晶體，隻存在於燈塔深處的“核心室”——一個據說通往島嶼真實地基的密室。 瑪格麗特拒絕協助，她認為這是對命運的再度挑戰。但當“織網者”的影響日益增強，島上開始齣現無法解釋的物理現象——重力失衡，聲音在不同區域以不同的速度傳播——她最終被塞拉斯的決心所打動。 在核心室的深處，塞拉斯不僅找到瞭晶體，也找到瞭他祖父最後的日記。日記揭示瞭一個殘酷的真相：祖父成功地“拯救”瞭某些人，但代價是他們被永遠地睏在瞭“時間之外”。而他自己，選擇留下來，成為燈塔永久的“操作員”，用自己的生命力維持著這脆弱的穩定。 塞拉斯將諧振晶體放置在黃銅圓盤中央，按照祖父留下的最後指示，他必須在特定星辰排列的瞬間，啓動逆轉程序。 當光芒重新以一種穩定而深沉的頻率閃爍時，阿卡迪亞島上的扭麯現象開始消退。霧氣散去，海麵恢復瞭熟悉的蔚藍。然而，塞拉斯感到一股強大的吸力正在將他拉嚮圓盤。 在最後的時刻，卡萊布衝瞭進來，他知道，維持穩定需要一個“觀察者”，一個錨定現實的意識。他將自己固定在控製颱上，用他自己對機械的熱情和對島嶼的忠誠，取代瞭塞拉斯祖父的位置。 塞拉斯被晶體的反作用力推瞭齣去，他帶著《星辰之鑰》和一箱祖父留下的航海日誌，在卡萊布的幫助下，登上瞭瑪格麗特早已準備好的小帆船。 當船駛離阿卡迪亞的海岸綫時，他最後一次迴頭望去。失語燈塔的光芒再次變得柔和而規律，但這一次，光芒中似乎多瞭一種不易察覺的、略帶憂傷的頻率。塞拉斯明白，有些記憶永遠無法被完全抹去，有些失落也無法被完全彌補。 他帶著對失落文明的敬畏、對時間本質的睏惑，以及對卡萊布犧牲的沉重記憶，駛嚮瞭無邊無際的海洋，去追尋那些被時間之網遺漏的、真正的星辰。本書的結尾，是塞拉斯在日記扉頁上寫下的一句話：“我們追逐光明，卻往往在陰影中，纔真正看清瞭世界的形狀。” --- 主題解讀： 《流光盡頭的挽歌》是一部融閤瞭哥特式懸疑、蒸汽朋剋美學與哲學探討的長篇小說。它深入探討瞭： 1. 時間的不可逆性與乾預的代價： 探究人類試圖掌控超越自身理解範疇的自然力量時，必然付齣的沉重代價。 2. 記憶的建構與遺忘的必要性： 島嶼居民的集體失憶與塞拉斯對曆史的挖掘形成瞭鮮明對比，引人深思：一個文明是否需要遺忘纔能存續？ 3. 機械與靈魂的交織： 燈塔作為核心意象，象徵著人類試圖用理性（機械）去約束非理性（超自然力量）的努力，以及最終的妥協與融閤。 這部作品以其繁復的符號係統、細膩的環境描寫和扣人心弦的敘事節奏，為讀者構建瞭一個既宏大又私密的，關於失落、責任與救贖的史詩畫捲。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的文字，有一種讓人著迷的魔力，它以一種近乎寫實的手法，將人性的復雜性一點點剝開。我尤其喜歡作者那種不動聲色的敘述方式，沒有過多的煽情，卻能在平淡的描寫中，透露齣最深刻的洞察。平裝本的優勢在於它的親切感，它不像那些精裝書那樣具有距離感，而是可以隨意地拿在手中，在任何角落裏翻閱。我記得有一次，我在旅行的途中，帶著這本書，看著窗外掠過的風景，心裏卻在想著書中的那些孩子們，仿佛整個世界都變得模糊起來，隻剩下那片孤島和那些掙紮的靈魂。書名《Lord of the Flies》本身就帶著一種寓意，簡單卻意味深長，每一次看到它，我都會想起故事中那些象徵性的元素。它不是那種讀完就丟在一旁的讀物，它會在你的腦海裏留下深深的烙印，讓你在之後的很長一段時間裏，都會時不時地迴想起它，反思它所提齣的問題。它的文字就像一種陳年的酒，越品越有味道，越品越能體會其中的深意。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的魅力在於它對人性的深刻洞察，它以一種近乎殘酷的方式，揭示瞭文明的脆弱和野性的潛伏。我曾多次將它帶在身邊，每一次閱讀，都能從中獲得新的啓示。平裝本的設計，既方便攜帶，又散發齣一種質樸的親切感，讓我感覺它就像一位老朋友，隨時可以與之交流。書的封麵，簡單卻極富象徵意義，它沒有華麗的裝飾，卻能迅速抓住讀者的注意力，並引發內心的聯想。我喜歡那種觸碰紙張時的真實感，仿佛每一次翻動，都在與書中的角色進行著無聲的對話。它不是一本娛樂性的讀物，它帶來的思考是深刻而持久的，常常在閤上書本之後，我仍然會沉浸在書中的世界裏，迴味著那些場景和對話。它就像一麵鏡子，映照齣人性的復雜與矛盾，讓人不得不審視自己內心深處的東西。這本書的文字，樸實無華，卻力量驚人，能夠穿透錶象，直達人性的核心，每一次閱讀，都能帶來一種滌蕩心靈的感受。

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這本書在我手中，最讓我印象深刻的是它所引發的那種難以言喻的壓抑感，即使在閤上書本，這種感覺也久久不散。它不僅僅是故事本身的震撼，更是那種對人性的深刻拷問，讓人不得不停下來反思。我記得第一次讀完的時候，我坐在那裏很久，腦海裏迴蕩著那些畫麵，那些孩子們的掙紮，那些逐漸暴露齣來的野性，都讓我感到一絲寒意。這種感覺不是那種驚悚片帶來的瞬間恐懼，而是一種緩慢滲透、深入骨髓的體驗，它迫使你直麵自己內心深處可能存在的東西。平裝本的設計，反而更能凸顯這種沉重的主題。那種略顯粗糙的紙張，那種樸實的裝幀，都與故事中赤裸裸的現實主義風格恰如其分地呼應。它不像那些華麗的書籍，試圖用外在的美學來掩飾內容的深刻，而是選擇瞭一種最直接、最真實的方式來呈現。每一次拿起它，我都能感受到那種沉甸甸的重量，仿佛不僅僅是紙張的重量，更是那些關於文明、野蠻、理智與衝動之間界限的思考。它不是一本輕鬆讀物，但正因如此，它的價值纔更加凸顯，它帶來的震撼和啓發是持久而深刻的。

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這本書的封麵設計就足夠引人入勝，簡單卻極具象徵意義。那種粗糙的紙張觸感，仿佛預示著故事本身的質樸與原始。我尤其喜歡書名《Lord of the Flies》的處理方式，字體設計既有力量感，又帶有一絲詭異的吸引力，讓人一眼就能感受到故事中某種潛在的黑暗力量。拿在手裏，會有一種沉甸甸的感覺，不僅僅是紙張的重量，更是故事所承載的厚重感。每一次翻開它，都像是在開啓一段探索未知心靈的旅程。我曾把它放在書架最顯眼的位置，它就像一個沉默的邀請，總是在不經意間吸引我的目光，勾起我想要再次沉浸其中的衝動。平裝本的優勢在於它的便攜性，可以隨時隨地帶著它，在通勤的地鐵裏，在午後的咖啡館，甚至是在靜謐的夜晚，都可以進入那個孤島的世界。書頁的展開方式也很自然，不會有那種硬殼書的束縛感，讓閱讀體驗更加流暢和舒適。它不像某些精裝書那樣需要小心翼翼地對待，反而更顯齣一種日常的親切感，仿佛它早已是我生活的一部分，是我可以隨時依靠的精神伴侶。

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閱讀這本書的過程，就像是在體驗一場緩慢而不可逆轉的心理墜落。我至今仍清晰地記得，隨著故事的推進，我內心的那種不安感是如何逐漸纍積的。它不是突如其來的衝擊，而是像一場細雨，一點一點浸濕瞭我的思緒，最終讓我感到無處可逃。平裝本的觸感，那種略微粗糙的紙張，仿佛與故事中孩子們赤腳走在沙灘上的感覺相呼應。每次翻開它，都能感受到一種原始的力量，一種對最基本人性赤裸裸的展現。我曾經在深夜，藉著昏黃的燈光閱讀它，那些文字仿佛帶著一種魔力，將我拉入那個孤島的絕望之中。書本的輕便性，讓它成為瞭我隨身攜帶的伴侶，無論走到哪裏，它都能在我需要的時候，提醒我關於人性的復雜和脆弱。我喜歡它封麵設計的那種簡潔而深刻的意象，沒有過多的修飾，卻直擊人心。它不是一本需要被供奉起來的書，而是可以被反復閱讀、反復品味的，每一次閱讀都會有新的感悟，都會在那些熟悉的字句中發現新的含義，就像一個深不見底的礦井，總能挖掘齣更深層次的思考。

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威廉·戈爾丁1911年9月19日齣生於英格蘭西南角康沃爾郡一個知識分子傢庭，7歲開始寫作。父親是當地學校的校長，也是一位學者，癡迷於求知和探索。其父對政治有極大的熱情，相信科學。母親是位主張女性有參政權的婦女。戈爾丁繼承瞭父親開明、理智的秉性，自小愛好文學。

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正版特價，正版特價，正版特價

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名著，買來讀。

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好書啊啊啊

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有時候也會想，戀愛這種東西，如果有瞭煩惱或者無法解決的問題，是不是一個陌生人的迴答能夠解決的呢？

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一直在京東上買書，活動多，送貨快，完美

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經典圖書，買來給孩子啓濛

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Labeled a parable, an allegory, a myth, a morality tale, a parody, a political treatise, even a vision of the apocalypse, Lord of the Flies has established itself as a true classic.

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經典英文書籍，京東價格也不貴，好