Symbols in The Lord of the Flies

The are many symbols in this story.
The first one is the conch. The conch represents order, civilization, democracy, and structure. Whoever has the conch is able to speak and be acknowledged. Piggy often bears the conch, which represents how logical, intellectual thought leads to these things. Jack does not respect the conch which shows the way that he is the opposite of civilized. The conch represents the "Ego" side of everyone. To find out about Id, Ego and Superego read "Lord of Psychology-The Id, The Ego and The Superego".
The second symbol is Piggy's glasses. Piggy and his glasses are intellectual, logical and clear-headed. They represent science, intellectualism and careful, thoughtful behavior. The way that they are used and stolen by Jack shows how science can be used as a weapon. It also shows Jack's disrespect for what they represent. The way they are being broken shows how science and rationality are being eroded at and these values are being removed. If the glasses were to be totally wrecked it would mean that science was dead. Piggy's glasses and Piggy are the "Superego" side of everyone.
The third symbol is the signal fire. As long as it burns that means that the boys still want to be rescued and they still remember their old homes. If they allow the fire to go out that means they have stopped caring. Whoever is the one to step up and work to keep the fire is the one holding onto hope of a rescue and fighting for civilization. When the fire goes out that means that science is dead and savagery has won.
The last of the four symbols is the Beast. This represents the wild, savage, side of everyone that is unconscious. Basically, the instinct to hurt annd kill brutally. When Jack is hunting and feels that something is stalking him, something like the Beast, it shows how his need to kill and his lust for cruelty allows him to feel savagery sneaking up on him. This shows his reversion to this more savage and wild side of himself. This also is the impulses (Id) side of everyone.
There are many other symbols that appear later in the story. We are now at chapter 3.

Blog 3-Of Huts and Pigs-Jack's Journal

I crouch. Motionless, I wait. The forest is still, very still. Silence is all around me. A tendril of vine has crept down and brushes my back with little green fingers. I brush it aside and wait. The air is hot and humid. I breathe in slowly. Frustration clouds my vision. How can I hunt and kill when I am distracted by anger? Ralph and that ridiculous lieutenant of his, Piggy, stay back in the camp and play while I stalk my prey through the thick, lush forest. In the shadows I feel like I've been here forever, like I belong to the forest as much as my prey. The shadows around me encompass me and I feel as if I am melting into the island. I stealthily drop to hands and knees and sneak like a jaguar through the tropical jungle. The patches of light allow small bits of illumination on the forest floor. The world seems to be holding it's breath while I put being human on hold for a moment. The stick I hold trails behind me and leaves a trail in the dirt like a snake. I glance down at my spear. A disappointment. Even though it is five feet long without a barb it is useless. If only I had one. Then I would be able to be successful. We wounded a pig earlier but it fell out and we lost our prey, couldn't make a kill. The site of that blood was a stimulus. It kept me interested in the chase. To spill more blood, to see the pig fall dead. To revert to savagery and take it's life. The heat is oppressive and forces my mind back to the lagoon. Calm, cool water.
Furtively, I move and examine the traces. A sound catches my ear. Somewhere a pig moves on the track. I leap to my feet and spring into position. When it comes close enough I will spring and deliver the killing blow. As I wait I watch the glimmer of light that creeps through the trees to the forest floor. The vines festoon the trees. It's like the way my father, what did he look like, I can't even remember his face, decorated the tree at Christmas last year, or was it on Easter? Home in London, or was it in Cambridge, seems so far away. Unnecessary details like my old home, for the island is my home now, should be forgotten. Ralph's way of clinging to the hope of rescue bewilders me. His way of thinking is inscrutable to me. The sound of the pig gets louder. I put all thoughts of Ralph out of my head and lunge forward. The pig senses me and runs for cover. I throw my spear and miss. The pig's terrified footfalls die away in the once more quiet wood. I straighten up in disgust. My body is streaked with all the grime of a brutal day in the dirt, crawling and stalking. I must face Ralph eventually. It may as well be sooner rather than later. I will have to watch him flaunting his achievements. As I head for the camp I hear the sound of the little ones playing in the water. If I were leader they would be serving a purpose. They would have to work or else... I see Piggy sitting by them. The boy looks like the personification of stupid civilization. Or like a caricature of what would happen if you allowed your reflexes to dull. I hate the boy.
I walk into the camp to find Simon and Ralph working on a hut. Two shaky huts stand beside the one in progress, which looks like it is about to fall down. If I was in charge hut building would be mandatory for the little ones. Failure to do so would result in harsh punishment. Ralph looks absorbed in his task.
"Is there water anywhere?" I ask. He ignores me; whether from paying attention only to his job or from contempt I can't tell. "I say, is there any water? Hunting all day makes you thirsty." He turns at last.
"Coconuts under the tree. Should be some there." He remarks disinterestedly. I move to the tree and grab one. I drain it rapidly before moving back toward Simon and Ralph.
"Got a pig?" Ralph asks. Internally I scowl. He has to rub my nose in my sore spot.
"Not yet. But I will get one." I feel my blood boil at the exciting thought of making a kill at long last. He grunts and looks at my face. I try to calm down.
"I don't suppose that you feel like helping build huts." he paused. "Do you?" I shook my head. Since I've been hunting I feel like a creature of the woods, not a civilized person. The feeling of someone stalking me is frightening and almost exhilarating. To be tied down to building huts would be a torture.
"Hut building isn't my thing really." he shook his head.
"I didn't think so." I reflect on the best course of action. At this point, before I can show off a kill I cannot afford to alienate the leader. I must be diplomatic.
"Did the little ones help at all?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"At first. Then they wander off. It's only Simon and I left working. We've been working all day." I respond. He snaps back. In minutes we are fighting. Simon watches anxiously from inside the unfinished hut. All of the tensions between the free wild and stupid, caged "society" come to the front. Two leaders, on opposite sides. We calm down after a little while. We walk down along the shore of the lagoon. Although on the outside I am calm and collected on the inside I am thinking of what I would do to him if I were the leader. Visions of leadership fill my head. Punishing that fool Piggy for his officious advice, punishing any hunter who fails to assist in the killing, forcing the little ones to work. Ralph interrupts these pleasant musings with a remark about the fire.
"It's not high enough." I snarl slightly.
"What are you implying? It's my hunters who are keeping it going." He nods.
"How far away could you see it from?" He asks musingly. I look out over the glimmering, shining, and everlasting sea and wonder why we care how far away we could see it from.
"Miles. Why do we care?" He looks at me as if I've gone mad.
"Rescue." He repeats the word slowly. "A ship needs a signal for it to come here." I shrug.
"If only I could catch one." I say softly. He pays no attention.
"Look, more smoke! They put on green branches. They must see a ship!" I nod but my mind is elsewhere. Instead of soaring across the seas like Ralph's mind mine is climbing the mountain looking for prey.
"That's it" He looks up. "The pigs must rest up in the shade of the mountain when it gets hot. Maybe I could take some of my hunters, paint our faces, and ambush them." His face is angry.
"I thought you were thinking of the ship." I respond snippily.
"We need meat."
"We need to be rescued."
"I need to catch a pig."
"You and pigs. That's all you think about."
"And you only think of the ships and the huts. Go back to building your huts on the beach."
"You think I like that?" Suddenly he is yelling. "You think I like working all day with only Simon for help?"
"I've been working too!" I yell back.
"But you like hunting. I don't like working on huts." We think for a moment. If only I could catch a pig then I wouldn't have to deal with Ralph. If only. Do those pigs know that they hold my fate in their pink feet? Is that why they flee? I cut short these musings. United for the moment in the attempt to cool down we wonder back toward the lagoon. As we prepare to dive in Ralph says something. I cock my head to listen.
"Jack, I'm sorry. People are never what they seem. I'm losing patience." I nod. The confirmation that something is wrong and that he has an exploitable weakness is better than his apology.
"It's alright." Now all I need is how to use this opening. And when I make a kill and have meat to give out I know just the way to do it...

Our Current Progress

Right now we have just read chapter two. I'm really excited to see what my classmates think of the book and how it shows human nature.

Note: In between all of the prompted posts I am going to have a little extra like this. Later these will include descriptions of real characters and the characters that I create for my entries. Each time it will have our progress in the book.

Blog 2-The First Crossroad-Piggy's Journal

"We should light a signal fire on the mountain!" The words sweep through the assembly like a wave. It washes over everyone and catches hold of everyone. The tumult is incredible. Boys who, moments before, were quiet and respectful or jeering are jumping up and racing after Jack. Those fools. Jack is only after power and doesn't care how he gets it. His personality is more pleasing than Ralph's but I don't trust him. There is an irresistible charm about him that all but I fall prey to. I've learned too much. He doesn't like me or think I'm capable of anything. I'll prove him wrong. Underestimating your opponent can be a fatal error. And I am his opponent. He would crush our society for his own gain and I will prevent him. I cannot tell Ralph about this, he trusts Jack. I would be out of favor and then I wouldn't have enough influence to stop him. He will warp the truth and lie to get what he wants. Not the sort of person who would play by society's rules. The boys he has with him are not much better. Roger seems to be cold and cruel. Simon, is an enigma. I cannot fathom what goes on in his mind. Scornfully, Roger turns. He is mainly silent, this one.
"Coming?" he yells. "Jack's going to light a fire!" his eyes are aglow with a strange hunger. The lust for power. I shudder and Ralph turns in confusion toward me. I shake my head.
"It's nothing. But aren't you annoyed that they broke your authority?" he shrugs.
"It was a good idea." he says simply. "I don't mind." I smirk a little to myself. I had seen him trying to get everyone to stay.
"Everyone needs to save face." I murmur. He turns again.
"What?" I shake my head.
"Nothing." Nimbly, he hops over a rock on the way. I shake my head again but there is admiration this time. I glance down at my own body. Not an athletic one unfortunately. Besides there's my asthma. My glasses slip down my nose and I carefully push them back. There's no way for me to get a new pair and I'm almost blind with out them. We reach the summit behind the others. Jack is already officiously throwing his weight around. My lip curls back into a snarl almost of it's own accord. I trust him even less now. He has no respect for democracy. Ralph and I join in the log gathering. He helps Jack with a big log. I carry tinder. Ralph says something.
"How do you intend to light the fire?" a simple and effective damper.
"You could make a bow." Roger demonstrates with his hands.
"Or use a magnifying glass like I use at school to light leaves on fire." suggests a small boy near me. I shudder. I know what's coming.
"Piggy's glasses!" the mob moves toward me. Ralph stops them with a single glance. His power is great but I still worry about Jack. I see Jack beside a little boy. He says something quiet and cruel and shoves the boy aside. The little boys are a strange mob. They follow headlong any new idea but some of them get bored quickly and move on to playing. I see three of them now back down in the lagoon. We are so different, them and I. I aim for a society and will fight for it and they want to play. Jack could manipulate them easily if he got the right leverage. I see Roger looking coolly over at me as he twists the arm of a little boy to make him move. I am scared by his cruelty.
Jack takes my glasses, ignoring my protests and starts to light the fire. One wisp of smoke curls up then another. Flames grow from the spot like vines. Twisting and tangling upward. Smoke rises and swirls toward the blue sky. In seconds a roaring fire has grown from the spot. The boys race from the spot to gather still more wood while I do some quick calculations. If the fire continues at this rate it will use 10 logs per minute and the boys together can only gather nine. And every moment more and more small boys run off to play with their comrades. Finally everyone collapsed exhausted like I knew they would eventually. We glance around us. My attention is caught by smoke rising from the forest. Is it what I think it could be? Forest fire? I point it out to Ralph.
"You got your little fire" I say. We see the forest begin to go up in flames. Then we try to find out about the little boys. Then comes the dreaded realization that we have lost one of them. The little boy who was scared of the snake. My heart turns over in my chest. Is there any way such a small boy could survive?
"Maybe he went back down." Ralph suggests hollowly. But we all know it is false. The little boy with the mark on the side of his face is dead. Solemnly, they all wound their way back to the lagoon where we had started. Ralph was the last to leave except for me. I looked up at the sky. Doubt clouds my vision. Can a haphazard group of boys like us, divided between two leaders survive on our own?

The Assignment

In our Humanities class we are reading The Lord of the Flies. We have to write a blog about this book. To see all of the prompts we were assigned see http://lordoftheflies8th.blogspot.com/. This is my teacher's blog.

Feel Free to comment about my writing.

Thank you,
Emma

Blog 1-The Calling of the Shell

The plane bursts into flames and falls from the sky. Down, down toward the ocean rushing up to greet it. The boys around me scream in terror and I close my eyes. But it is too late. I have already seen the blasted hole in the side and I know, young though I am, that the plane cannot pull out of its terrible free fall. The boy beside me screams.
"We've been shot!" again and again until he runs out of breath. The water keeps getting bigger. Could one plane filled with small boys survive such a fall?
Then, suddenly, horribly, my suspense is over. The plane strikes the ground with a sickening crunch and bursts into flames. Screams of terror surround me. I pull myself free of the rubble and look around. A little boy is trapped beneath a piece of plane. The fire rages toward him like a living thing. Like some monstrous tiger made of flame. I pause. Mother always told me to remember that every one has to make a choice someday. A choice whether to risk your life for some one else or be safe and let them be hurt. She said, man is neither inherently sinful or inherently good. She told me that a man has tendencies toward good and tendencies toward evil. But she always told me that the situation would help you make your choice. I guessed this time was my choice.
The boy screamed again. He couldn't have been any older than six. He looked at me for a moment and I made my choice. If I didn't help him I knew that I would never be able to live with myself. I jumped forward. Moving quickly I dragged him from the burning wreckage. Seconds later that part of the plane collapsed. The little boy looked up at me, sooty and disheveled. I can see the fearful pallor of his face under the grime.
"Yo-you saved my life," he murmurs softly. His round eyes reflect the flames.
"Don't mention it." I respond, "Anyone would do the same." All of a sudden a strident noise soars up from the trees. It deafens the clamor of boys screaming to each other and boys crying in terror. I look around me. The boy clinging to my arm looks around also. Two older boys arguing a few feet away seem to be better informed then I am. I walk over. As I do I hear another sound through the grating of trees around me. It is a low snarl that makes my blood run cold. The littler boy quivers in fear as he catches the sound of the growl as it blows across the shallow lagoon on the little breeze. I pat his arm comfortingly.
"There's nothing wrong." I murmur gently. He nods like the small child that he is. A pile of rocks blocks the path we have chosen to walk on. Happily he clambers over them like a monkey. When I was smaller I used to do the same thing. My five year old brother does just that now. I wonder how he is doing and what he will think when he finds out his older brother is marooned some where. I put these depressing thoughts out of my head and walk around the rocks. We reach the older boys and I realize I am mistaken. They are no older than my age of 8. Vainly the little boy tries to tap them on the shoulder to make them stop arguing. One of them stretches out an arm and knocks him aside before returning to the fray. I gasp in indignation. This is the opposite of everything my mother ever told me about decorous behavior. She always told me to be courteous to everyone and respect all creatures great and small from the giant carriage horses to the tiny ants. I interpose angrily.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you to be kind to those smaller than you?" the boy who pushed him down shrugs.
"There aren't any adults here to make the rules." I gasp again. No adults? The boy smirks.
"What was that noise?" they cock their heads in confusion. "You didn't hear it?" they shake their heads in denial. "You heard it didn't you?" I turn to the little boy. "And by the way, what is your name?" he smiles innocently.
"Henry."
"Tom, pleased to meet you. You did hear it right?" Henry nods. The other two begin to speculate on the chances of being rescued. They put the odds at 20%. A fruits falls off a branch of one of the trees and rolls down the slight incline into the water near us. Henry picks it up and eagerly devours it. I smile tolerantly and turn away.
"Do you think we should follow the sound?" They shrug nonchalantly.
"Why not?" one of them says. I tap Henry and he follows obediently after us. Two boys stand in the center of a clearing. One of them is tall, slender and fair and the other is short and fat with glasses. The tall one has a shell in his hands that I instantly recognize as a conch. He puts it to his lip again as the fat boy waddles over to us.
"Names?" he asks in a businesslike manner.
"Tom."
"Henry."
"Tim."
"Ted." He nods and hurries off in the direction of some other boys who have just come. We sit down. In minutes the clearing fills up with boys all no older than 12. Last, a group of boys in two neat rows march in. The tall, fair boy sums up the situation in a few well-chosen words. The respect that I already had for him increases monumentally. He would make a good leader and maybe he will someday if we ever get off here alive. He and the leader of the boys in black caps dispute leadership. The other boy looks arrogant and cruel, out for power. I do not like the look of one of the boys he has with him, a boy he calls Roger. The fat boy turns again to us.
"Let's take a vote." everyone raises his hand when he announces Ralph, the tall boy. I smile. Something about the other boy is interesting but frightening. Mother always said I was perceptive. There is an aura of malice about him and a hunger that cannot be cured by fruit or meat. A lust for power hides in his eyes. I am frightened of the boy they call Jack though I cannot say why. I cannot tell anyone, Ralph trusts Jack and made him leader of the hunters. We are making what will be like a small village of boys only until we are rescued. I smile softly to myself and pay more attention to Ralph.