Read the passages from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Passage 1"Things are breaking up. I don’t understand why. We began well; we were happy. And then—”He moved the conch gently, looking beyond them at nothing, remembering the beastie, the snake, the fire, the talk of fear."Then people started getting frightened.”A murmur, almost a moan, rose and passed away. Jack had stopped whittling. Ralph went on, abruptly."But that’s littluns’ talk. We’ll get that straight. So the last part, the bit we can all talk about, is kind of deciding on the fear.”The hair was creeping into his eyes again."We’ve got to talk about this fear and decide there’s nothing in it. I’m frightened myself, sometimes; only that’s nonsense! Like bogies. Then, when we’ve decided, we can start again and be careful about things like the fire.” A picture of three boys walking along the bright beach flitted through his mind. "And be happy.”Passage 2[Ralph said,] "The trouble is: Are there ghosts, Piggy? Or beasts?”"’Course there aren’t.”"Why not?”"’Cos things wouldn’t make sense. Houses an’ streets, an’—TV—they wouldn’t work.”The dancing, chanting boys had worked themselves away till their sound was nothing but a wordless rhythm."But s’pose they don’t make sense? Not here, on this island? Supposing things are watching us and waiting?”Ralph shuddered violently and moved closer to Piggy, so that they bumped frighteningly."You stop talking like that! We got enough trouble, Ralph, an’ I’ve had as much as I can stand. If there is ghosts—”
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Jack quested ahead. They went more slowly than Ralph had bargained for; yet in a way he was glad to loiter, cradling his spear. Jack came up against some emergency of his craft and soon the procession stopped. Ralph leaned against a tree and at once the daydreams started swarming up. Jack was in charge of the hunt and there would be time to get to the mountain—Once, following his father from Chatham to Devonport, they had lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors. . . .When you went to bed there was a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. And the books—they stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he never read because it was about two girls; there was the one about the magician, which you read with a kind of tied-down terror, skipping page twenty-seven with the awful picture of the spider; there was a book about people who had dug things up, Egyptian things; there was The Boy’s Book of Trains, The Boy’s Book of Ships. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which The Mammoth Book for Boys would come out and slither down . . . Everything was all right; everything was good-humored and friendly.
What is the difference between a theme and a universal theme?
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding."You got to be tough now. Make 'em do what you want.”Ralph answered in the cautious voice of one who rehearses a theorem."If I blow the conch and they don’t come back, then we’ve had it. We shan’t keep the fire going. We’ll be like animals. We’ll never be rescued.”"If you don’t blow, we’ll soon be animals anyway. I can’t see what they’re doing but I can hear.”The dispersed figures had come together on the sand and were a dense black mass that revolved. They were chanting something and littluns that had had enough were staggering away, howling. Ralph raised the conch to his lips and then lowered it.
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Ralph dropped down and spoke in his ordinary voice."So remember. The rocks for a lavatory. Keep the fire going and smoke showing as a signal. Don’t take fire from the mountain. Take your food up there.”Jack stood up, scowling in the gloom, and held out his hands."I haven’t finished yet.”"But you’ve talked and talked!”"I’ve got the conch.”Jack sat down, grumbling.
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding."The rules!” shouted Ralph. "You’re breaking the rules!”"Who cares?”Ralph summoned his wits."Because the rules are the only thing we’ve got!”But Jack was shouting against him."Bollocks to the rules! We’re strong—we hunt! If there’s a beast, we’ll hunt it down! We’ll close in and beat and beat and beat—!”He gave a wild whoop and leapt down to the pale sand. At once the platform was full of noise and excitement, scramblings, screams, and laughter. The assembly shredded away and became a discursive and random scatter from the palms to the water and away along the beach, beyond night-sight. Ralph found his cheek touching the conch and took it from Piggy."What’s grownups going to say?” cried Piggy again. "Look at 'em!”
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.They set off again, the hunters bunched a little by fear of the mentioned beast, while Jack quested ahead. . . . Ralph leaned against a tree and at once the daydreams started swarming up. Jack was in charge of the hunt and there would be time to get to the mountain—Once, following his father from Chatham to Devonport, they had lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors. . . .When you went to bed there was a bowl of cornflakes with sugar and cream. And the books—they stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he never read because it was about two girls; there was the one about the magician, which you read with a kind of tied-down terror, skipping page twenty-seven with the awful picture of the spider; there was a book about people who had dug things up, Egyptian things; there was The Boy’s Book of Trains, The Boy’s Book of Ships. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which The Mammoth Book for Boys would come out and slither down . . . Everything was all right; everything was good-humored and friendly.
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Jack shouted so loudly that Ralph jumped."What? Where? Is it a ship?”But Jack was pointing to the high declivities that led down from the mountain to the flatter part of the island."Of course! They’ll lie up there—they must, when the sun’s too hot—”Ralph gazed bewildered at his rapt face."—they get up high. High up and in the shade, resting during the heat, like cows at home—”"I thought you saw a ship!”"We could steal up on one—paint our faces so they wouldn’t see—perhaps surround them and then—”Indignation took away Ralph’s control."I was talking about smoke! Don’t you want to be rescued? All you can talk about is pig, pig, pig!”"But we want meat!”"And I work all day with nothing but Simon and you come back and don’t even notice the huts!”"I was working too—”"But you like it!” shouted Ralph. "You want to hunt! While I—”
Read the passages from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Passage 1By the trunk of a vast tree that grew pale flowers on its grey bark he checked, closed his eyes, and once more drew in the warm air; and this time his breath came short, there was even a passing pallor in his face, and then the surge of blood again. He passed like a shadow under the darkness of the tree and crouched, looking down at the trodden ground at his feet.The droppings were warm. They lay piled among turned earth. They were olive green, smooth, and they steamed a little. Jack lifted his head and stared at the inscrutable masses of creeper that lay across the trail. Then he raised his spear and sneaked forward. Beyond the creeper, the trail joined a pig-run that was wide enough and trodden enough to be a path. The ground was hardened by an accustomed tread, and as Jack rose to his full height he heard something moving on it. He swung back his right arm and hurled the spear with all his strength. From the pig-run came the quick, hard patter of hoofs, a castanet sound, seductive, maddening—the promise of meat. He rushed out of the undergrowth and snatched up his spear. The pattering of pig’s trotters died away in the distance.Passage 2Jack drew up his legs, clasped his knees, and frowned in an effort to attain clarity."All the same—in the forest. I mean when you’re hunting, not when you’re getting fruit, of course, but when you’re on your own—”He paused for a moment, not sure if Ralph would take him seriously."Go on.”"If you’re hunting sometimes you catch yourself feeling as if—” He flushed suddenly. "There’s nothing in it of course. Just a feeling. But you can feel as if you’re not hunting, but—being hunted, as if something’s behind you all the time in the jungle.” . . ."The best thing we can do is get ourselves rescued.”Jack had to think for a moment before he could remember what rescue was."Rescue? Yes, of course! All the same, I’d like to catch a pig first—” He snatched up his spear and dashed it into the ground. The opaque, mad look came into his eyes again. Ralph looked at him critically through his tangle of fair hair.
Read the passage from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.Jack stood there, streaming with sweat, streaked with brown earth, stained by all the vicissitudes of a day’s hunting. Swearing, he turned off the trail and pushed his way through until the forest opened a little and instead of bald trunks supporting a dark roof there were light grey trunksand crowns of feathery palm. Beyond these was the glitter of the sea and he could hear voices. Ralph was standing by a contraption of palm trunks and leaves, a rude shelter that faced the lagoon and seemed very near to falling down. He did not notice when Jack spoke."Got any water?”Ralph looked up, frowning, from the complication of leaves. He did not notice Jack even when he saw him."I said have you got any water? I’m thirsty.”Ralph withdrew his attention from the shelter and realized Jack with a start.
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