The Nobel Prize in Literature 1983
William Golding
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Swedish Academy The Permanent Secretary |
Press Release
October 1983
William Golding's first novel,
Lord of the Flies, 1954, rapidly became a world success
and has so remained. It has reached readers who can be numbered
in tens of millions. In other words, the book was a bestseller,
in a way that is usually granted only to adventure stories, light
reading and children's books. The same goes for several of his
later novel, including Rites of Passage, 1980.
The reason is simple. These books are very entertaining and
exciting. They can be read with pleasure and profit without the
need to make much effort with learning or acumen. But they have
also aroused an unusually great interest in professional literary
critics, scholars, writers and other interpreters who have sought
and found deep strata of ambiguity and complication in Golding's
work. In those who use the tools of narration and linguistic art,
they have incited to thinking, discovery and creation of their
own, in order to explore the world we live in and to settle down
in it. In this respect, William Golding can perhaps be compared
to another Englishman, Jonathan Swift, who has also become a writer for the
learned and the unlearned, or, to the American, Herman Melville,
whose works are full of equivocal profundity as well as
fascinating adventure. In fact the resemblance extends farther
than that. Golding has a very keen sight and sharp pen when it
comes to the power of evil and baseness in human beings - just
like Jonathan Swift. And like Herman Melville, he often chooses
his themes and the framework for his stories from the world of
the sea, or from other challenging situations in which odd people
are tempted to reach beyond their limits, thereby being bared to
the very marrow. His stories usually have a fairly schematic
drama, almost an anecdote, as skeleton. He then covers this with
a richly varied and spicy flesh of colourful characters and
surprising events.
William Golding can be said to be a writer of myths. It is the
pattern of myth that we find in his manner of writing.
A very few basic experiences and basic conflicts of a deeply
general nature underlie all his work as motive power. In one of
his essays he describes how, as a young man, he took an
optimistic view of existence. He believed that man would be able
to perfect himself by improving society and eventually doing away
with all social evil. His optimism was akin to that of other
utopians, for instance, H.G. Wells.
The second world war changed his outlook. He discovered what one
human being is really able to do to another. And it was not a
question of head-hunters in New Guinea or primitive tribes in the
Amazon region. They were atrocities committed with cold
professional skill by well-educated and cultured people -
doctors, lawyers, and those with a long tradition of high
civilization behind them. They carried out their crimes against
their own equals. He writes:
"I must say that anyone who moved through those years without
understanding that man produces evil as a bee produces honey,
must have been blind or wrong in the head."
Golding inveighs against those who think that it is the political
or other systems that create evil. Evil springs from the depths
of man himself - it is the wickedness in human beings that
creates the evil systems, or, that changes what, from the
beginning, is, or could be, good into something iniquitous and
destructive.
There is a mighty religious dimension in William Golding's
conception of the world, though hardly Christian in the ordinary
sense. He seems to believe in a kind of Fall. Perhaps, rather,
one should say that he works with the myth of a Fall. In some of
his stories, chiefly the novel, The Inheritors, 1955, we
find a dream of an original state of innocence in the history of
mankind - a prehistoric race or breed of animals, poor in words
but rich in pictures and wordless communication, a peaceful
existence with the women or female qualities in the lead. The
Fall came with the motive power of a new species. The aggressive
intelligence, the power-hungry self-assertion, and the
overweening individualism are the source of evil and violence -
individual, as well as social violence. But these qualities and
incentives are also innate in man's nature, in man as a created
being. They are, therefore, inseparably, a part of his character
and make themselves felt when he gives full expression to himself
and forms his societies and his private destiny.
We come across this tragic drama in many different ways in
William Golding's novels. In Lord of the Flies, a group of
young boys are isolated on a desert island. Soon a kind of
primitive society takes shape and is split into warring factions,
one marked by decency and willingness to cooperate, the other by
worship of force, lust for power and violence. In The
Pyramid, 1967, we find similar tensions in a more everyday
setting - an English country town. The social class differences
exercise an insidious, but equally ruthless, violence in an
existence full of lovelessness and prejudiced hypocrisy. The
novel, Pincher Martin, 1956, depicts how the main
character, the narrator, is drowning. Actually he is already dead
or dying as he tells his story. In his passionate absorption in
himself, he seems, for a time, to get the better of death. He
does so by recounting his life to himself, a life full of
ruthless egoism and cruelty to others, a miserable life, yet it
was his, and on no account does he want to lose it. He, the dead
man, tries to make the rock to which he is clinging into a
picture of himself. It is a weird ghost story, a fable of a will
to live without shame or moderation.
In the novel, Rites of Passage, 1980, the drama is enacted
in the microcosm that the author arranges on a ship of the line
at the beginning of the 19th century. The book gives a cruel and
drastic description of social barriers and aggressions on this
ship, with an underlying black comedy and a masterly command of
the characters' various linguistic roles. The scapegoat - one of
many in Golding's works - is a priest who, naively trusting in
the authority of his office, tries to assert his own dignity. He
is subjected to outrages, each worse than the last, himself
taking part in them, and ends up in such a desperate situation
that he dies of shame.
The title of the previous novel, Darkness Visible, 1979,
alludes to Milton's depiction of hell. It is a complicated book
which, in many ways, sums up the author's view of mankind and the
world, such as one can fancy it to be in his work. The novel can
be regarded as a description of hell, or of purgatory, here on
earth. The advocates of evil appear with almost diabolical traits
in the form of two beautiful young girls who are driven by a
liking for evil for its own sake. Opposed to them is yet another
of Golding's scapegoats - a young man born out of a blazing
inferno in London during the Blitz, and on a pilgrimage in a
world without mercy towards his own destruction, again through
fire. He is both human being, pitiful and weak as such, and
something more, in league with powers of another kind, whether
they belong to a superhuman region or to an all too human world
of fancies and illusions. Darkness Visible is a dualistic
book - one is tempted to say, an illustration in myth form of a
Manichean philosophy with good and evil as two independent forces
in life.
All is not evil in the world of mankind, and all is not black in
William Golding's imagined world. According to him, man has two
characteristics - the ability to murder is one, belief in God the
other. Innocence is not entirely lost. The new race, which
defeated its predecessors in The Inheritors, became mixed
with features from the conquered. There is a striving away from
evil. This striving often goes astray in self-assertion and
illusionism, But it is there, nevertheless, and is allied with
something that is not merely human. In the novel The
Spire, 1964, this striving is embodied in a story about the
building of a medieval cathedral. The builder is a priest who
believes he has been ordered by God to build a spire that defies
all reasonable calculations and measurements. His striving is
both good and bad, containing the most complex reasons - humility
and conviction, but also arrogance, wilfulness and furtive sexual
motives. Despite its taut and composite form, the novel is one of
Golding's most diversified and significant works.
William Golding's novels and stories are, however, not only
sombre moralities and dark myths about evil and about
treacherous, destructive forces. As already mentioned, they are
also colourful tales of adventure which can be read as such, full
of narrative joy, inventiveness and excitement. In addition,
there are plentiful streaks of humour-biting irony, comedy and
drastic jesting. There is a vitality which breaks through what is
tragic and misanthropic, frightening in fact. A vitality, a
vigour, which is infectious owing to its strength and
intractability and to the paradoxical freedom it possesses as
against what is related. In this, too, Golding reminds us of the
predecessors mentioned at the beginning. His fabled world is
tragic and pathetic, yet not overwhelming and depressing. There
is a life which is mightier than life's conditions.
Golding was born in Cornwall on 19 September 1911. His father, a well-known educationalist, moved with his family to Wiltshire, where he taught at Marlborough Grammar School. On completion of his studies at the same school in 1930, the son went up to Oxford, where first, at his father's request, he devoted himself to natural science. Soon he changed to English literature, with a special interest in the Anglo-Saxon period. After passing his exams in 1934 he worked in small theatrical companies as writer, actor and producer, but for a year or two before the war, and fifteen years or so thereafter, he was also teacher. During the second world war he served in the navy and took part - finally as lieutenant - in various naval actions such as the sinking of the battleship "Bismarck" and the landing in Normandy, decisive experiences which can be traced here and there in his writings.The watches at sea gave him time for another main interest: the Greek language and literature. Having already decided at the age of seven to be a writer, he made his début as early as 1934 with a small collection of poems, which however he wishes to ignore. Golding does not look upon himself as a poet and his real début with the novel Lord of the Flies, with which he at once made his name, was not until 1954, when he was 43. Since then he has published seven novels, a collection of short stories, and several plays, essays and articles. His interests apart from writing - in which they are also reflected, are archaeology, Egyptology, classic Greek, music (he plays several instruments) and sailing. Since 1955 he has been a member of the Royal Society of Literature and has received a number of awards.
| Bibliography |
| Novels |
| Lord of the Flies. London, Faber 1954; New York, Coward McCann 1955. |
| The Inheritors. London, Faber 1955; New York, Harcourt; Brace 1962. |
| Pincher Martin. London, Faber 1956; as The Two Deaths of Christopher Martin, New York, Harcourt Brace 1957. |
| Free Fall. London, Faber 1959; New York, Harcourt Brace 1960. |
| The Spire. London, Faber 1964; New York, Harcourt Brace 1965. |
| The Pyramid. London., Faber 1967; New York, Harcourt Brace 1967. |
| Darkness Visible. London, Faber 1979; New York, Farrar, Straus Giroux 1979. |
| Rites of Passage. London, Faber 1980; New York, Farrar, Straus Giroux 1980. |
| Short Stories |
| The Scorpion God (includes "The Scorpion God", "Clonk, Clonk", and "Envoy Extraordinary"). London, Faber 1971. |
| Uncollected Short Stories |
| "Miss Pulkinhorn" in Encounter (London) August 1960. |
| "The Anglo-Saxon" in Winter's Tales 16. London, Macmillan 1970. |
| Plays |
| The Brass Butterfly (produced London 1958). London, Faber 1958. |
| Radio Plays: Miss Pulkinhorn, 1960; Break My Heart, 1962. |
| Essays, articles |
| The Hot Gates and Other Occasional Pieces. London., Faber 1965; New York, Harcourt Brace 1965. |
| A Moving Target. London, Faber 1982; New York, Farrar, Straus 1982 |