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

評分☆☆☆☆☆

　　說白瞭，就是在愛情中，總有些落花有意流水無情的事，總有些當初你儂我儂信誓旦旦然後到瞭中途卻有人被其他的風景吸引悄悄落跑的事，總有些自作多情和自以為是，總有些痛苦糾結的過去放不下，總有些難堪難以像熟人開口隻能跟陌生人傾訴……

評分☆☆☆☆☆

　　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？

評分☆☆☆☆☆

[ZZ]寫的的書都寫得很好，[sm]還是朋友推薦我看的，後來就非非常喜歡，他的書瞭。除瞭他的書，我和我傢小孩還喜歡看鄭淵潔、楊紅櫻、黃曉陽、小橋老樹、王永傑、楊其鐸、曉玲叮當、方洲，他們的書我覺得都寫得很好。[SM]，很值得看，價格也非常便宜，比實體店買便宜好多還省車費。 書的內容直得一讀[BJTJ]，閱讀瞭一下，寫得很好，[NRJJ]，內容也很豐富。[QY]，一本書多讀幾次，[SZ]。 快遞送貨也很快。還送貨上樓。非常好。 [SM]，超值。買書就來來京東商城。價格還比彆傢便宜，還免郵費不錯，速度還真是快而且都是正版書。[BJTJ]，買迴來覺得還是非常值的。我喜歡看書，喜歡看各種各樣的書，看的很雜，文學名著，流行小說都看，隻要作者的文筆不是太差，總能讓我從頭到腳看完整本書。隻不過很多時候是當成故事來看，看完瞭感嘆一番也就丟下瞭。所在來這裏買書是非常明智的。然而，目前社會上還有許多人被一些價值不大的東西所束縛，卻自得其樂，還覺得很滿足。經過幾百年的探索和發展，人們對物質需求已不再迫切，但對於精神自由的需求卻無端被抹殺瞭。總之，我認為現代人最缺乏的就是一種開闊進取，尋找最大自由的精神。 中國人講“虛實相生，天人閤一”的思想，“於空寂處見流行，於流行處見空寂”，從而獲得對於“道”的體悟，“唯道集虛”。這在傳統的藝術中得到瞭充分的體現，因此中國古代的繪畫，提倡“留白”、“布白”，用空白來錶現豐富多彩的想象空間和廣博深廣的人生意味，體現瞭包納萬物、吞吐一切的胸襟和情懷。讓我得到瞭一種生活情趣和審美方式，伴著筆墨的清香，細細體味，那自由孤寂的靈魂，高尚清真的人格魅力，在尋求美的道路上指引著我，讓我拋棄浮躁的世俗，嚮美學叢林的深處邁進。閤上書，閉上眼，書的餘香猶存，而我腦海裏浮現的，是一個“皎皎明月，仙仙白雲，鴻雁高翔，綴葉如雨”的衝淡清幽境界。願我們身邊多一些主教般光明的使者，有更多人能加入到助人為樂、見義勇為的隊伍中來。社會需要這樣的人，世界需要這樣的人，隻有這樣我們纔能創造我們的生活，[NRJJ]希望下次還呢繼續購買這裏的書籍，這裏的書籍很好，非常的不錯，。給我帶來瞭不錯的現實享受。希望下次還呢繼續購買這裏的書籍，這裏的書籍很好，非常的不錯，。給我帶來瞭不錯的現實享受。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

好

評分☆☆☆☆☆

晚年的戈爾丁過著從容優裕的生活，英國女王伊麗莎白二世於1988年賜予戈爾丁爵士榮譽。戈爾丁於1993年6月19日死於傢鄉康沃爾。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

　　說白瞭，就是在愛情中，總有些落花有意流水無情的事，總有些當初你儂我儂信誓旦旦然後到瞭中途卻有人被其他的風景吸引悄悄落跑的事，總有些自作多情和自以為是，總有些痛苦糾結的過去放不下，總有些難堪難以像熟人開口隻能跟陌生人傾訴……

評分☆☆☆☆☆

很輕便，給孩子買的，沒事讀一點兒

評分☆☆☆☆☆

　　說白瞭，就是你愛他，他不愛你，他愛的是另一個跟你截然相反的人。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

　　有時候會想，戀愛這種東西，是真的能夠學得會的嗎？

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