Morrison’s life events had a direct effect on his work. At the age of four or five, Morrison recalls that he witnessed a traffic accident while his family crossed the desert. There had been a collision and there were bodies of dead and dying Indians scattered on the ground. Morrison would later relate that this was his first taste of death, but it certainly would not be the last. In later years, Morrison came to be much of a hitchhiker. He was constantly confronted with dangerous situations that put his life on the line; many times he would return home beaten or bruised. He never directly told anyone what had happened on his pilgrimages across the American highways, but his written works tell the story of what really happened in those strange days. Another very influential event in Morrison’s life was the Vietnam War. This war was the first to experience such strong antiwar sentiments. Morrison was a strong opponent of the war. He was heavily influenced by the violent images sent back from Vietnam. Morrison would watch news coverage and take notes on what he saw so that he could incorporate it into a new song or poem. Furthermore, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. occurred during Morrison’s lifetime. Death was on the roam in the 1960’s, and Morrison was captivated by this beautiful monster.

Morrison’s haunting lyrics that he moaned into auditoriums as the lead singer of The Doors are the most obvious in their references to death. “Moonlight Drive”, a love song brimming with far out imagery, held a darker meaning to it. Throughout the song there is anticipation building as the two individuals get closer and closer together on their moonlight drive. However, as the song winds down, death intrudes on these simple love lyrics. As the song begins to fade we hear the lines, “Come on, baby, gonna [sic] take a little ride/ Down, down by the ocean side/ Gonna [sic] get real close/ Get real tight…” but then death appears and shatters the magic evening, “Baby gonna [sic] drown tonight/ Goin’ [sic] down, down, down” (Morrison, Strange). This dark message is barely audible on the album, but can be heard if carefully listened for. “Moonlight Drive” is in actuality not a love song, but a romantic suicide. Another water related death song is “Horse Latitudes”. This song comes from the same album and is filled with death. It depicts a scene where horses are thrown from a ship into the ocean and drowned. The vocabulary choice for this song consists mostly of words that have a darker stigma attached to them. Most interesting is the word choice used when describing the horses’ actual death by drowning. Morrison says, “heads bob up/ Poise/ Delicate/ Pause/ Consent/ In mute nostril agony/ Carefully refined/ And sealed over” (Morrison, Strange). This imagery creates a feeling of pain for the horses, but also makes their death seem beautiful in some strange way. Morrison’s beautification of such an agonizing death shows his respect and delight in death. “Riders on the Storm”, the closing track of L.A. Woman, touches on the subject of a “killer on the road”. This killer is a hitchhiker and is placed in this song as a direct result of Morrison’s days as a hitchhiker.  The pinnacle of Morrison’s antiwar statements is “The Unknown Soldier”. This song describes the American family viewing horrific scenes of death and violence from Vietnam as well as the death of an unknown soldier representing any soldier in the war (Davis 211). Later this song was developed into a short film depicting the execution of a soldier who tried to desert during Vietnam. The song goes into the tragedy of the fallen soldier, “Make a grave for the unknown soldier/ Nestled in your hollow shoulder/ The unknown soldier” (Morrison, Waiting). The media coverage of the grotesque and brutal killings in the Vietnam War was fuel for Morrison’s dark lyrics. These ideas of dying soldiers are present in all of Morrison’s antiwar songs, including “Five to One”, where Morrison would scream into the audience, “No one here gets out alive” (Morrison, Waiting). Here, Morrison is foretelling the future of those condemned to Vietnam. Morrison’s life led his lyrics to become caked with death and doom.

Not known to many, Morrison was an accomplished poet. He published a few collections of poetry and since his death some of his unpublished work has been printed. In these poems even more so than in his songs there is a strong presence of death. The Lords and the New Creatures is a collection of short, unnamed prose and poetry. There are several passages in which death stands out more clearly than others. In one, “All games contain the idea of death” (Morrison, The Lords 14), death stands out clear as day. This passage is more meaningful if the reader knows more about Morrison when he or she reads it. Morrison would refer to his career with The Doors as well as his life as “the game” or “a game”. Morrison in this passage is stating that his career and life are connected with death in some way that is more meaningful than for most. Morrison’s antiwar sentiments were shown in a passage reading “It takes a large murder to turn rocks in the shade and expose strange worms beneath. The lives of our discontented madmen are revealed” (Morrison, The Lords 16). This short prose tells how there must be many deaths for the general public to realize that those in the shadows, the politicians, are grotesque and sickening. They are madmen sending poor soldiers to the grave. In another passage Morrison writes, “My son will not die in the war/ He will return/ numbed peasant voice of Orient/ fisherman” (Morrison, The Lords 137). This is another reference to death, but from a unique point of view. This passage concerns the Vietnam War once again, but is from the perspective of a Vietnamese citizen rather than an American citizen. Morrison is relaying to the reader that the fear of death for those around you is a universal feeling that we sometimes lose sight of when we regard a people only as our enemies. The most blatant use of death in The Lords and New Creatures comes from a particularly lengthy passage; “Kill me!/ Kill the child who made/ Thee./…Kill hate/ disease/ warfare/ sadness/ Kill badness/ Kill madness/ Kill photo mother murder tree/ Kill me./ Kill yourself/ Kill the little blind elf” (Morrison, The Lords 134). This particular poem commands the murder of all that is evil in the world; however, along with the wicked things, Morrison adds, “Kill me. / Kill yourself” (Morrison, The Lords 134). In this he is indicating that death is the path toward purity and freedom. Morrison reaffirms this idea in another short piece of prose, “An object cut off from its name, habits, associations. Detached, it becomes only the thing, in and of itself. When this disintegration into pure existence is at last achieved, the object is free to become endlessly anything.” (Morrison, The Lords 78) Morrison is describing the freedom of death, in that when an entity is no longer tied to this world and its laws it then becomes free and limitless. Morrison’s fondness and glamorization of death is also seen in a poem describing the assassination of a king. “The assassin’s bullet/ Marries the King/ Dissembling miles of air/ To kiss the crown” (Morrison, The Lords 123) Morrison’s gentle and tender vocabulary concerning such a brutal means of death shows once more his interest in death. Furthermore, this particular passage was certainly influence by assassinations that occurred around the time of this work’s publication. A collection of poems released after Morrison’s death, entitled Wilderness, contains pages of Morrison’s unpublished work. The poems concerning death in this particular collection all have a similar theme. These works share the message of death being a way to achieve purity or a better existence. One work begins with, “Why the desire for death” (Morrison, Wilderness 199), and follows with a comparison of life to a piece of paper marred with markings, then concludes with the reason for desire, “Desire for a Perfect Life” (Morrison, Wilderness 199). Morrison is explaining his belief that through death we begin anew in the purest form and can have a new existence. In another poem, Morrison stages a dialogue between ghosts and a hitchhiker in which the ghosts tell the hitchhiker, “It/ never changes. Death of/ you will give you life/ & free you from a vile/ fate” (Morrison, Wilderness 46). The spirits of the dead are speaking to the lone hitchhiker and giving him advice on attaining a pure and euphoric experience. Morrison has often been quoted as saying, “People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend...” (ThinkExist). This poem reestablishes his belief that death is more of a savior than the wicked tormentor it is portrayed as. Death, in Morrison’s eyes, is just a friend who is there to help you escape from the pain of living. Many of Morrison’s closest friends would ask themselves if Morrison was truly in love with death, or if it was just an act. His private writings such as these show that he was in fact lusting for death, just as his self-destructive behavior in life showed him to be.

Morrison wrote one play that he made into a short film some time after it was written. The play was entitled HWY: An American Pastoral. In this play, there is an unnamed hitchhiker who kills a man while crossing the desert. This is a senseless murder that is committed because the main character feels that it will perpetuate his existence. The play goes on as the killer on the road wanders across the desert highways and eventually ends with the hitchhiker’s demise. The hitchhiker, in death, comes upon a fireside where bizarre strangers are there to meet him. This represents the hitchhiker’s transcendence through death into a plane of higher existence. The basic elements of death are present in this play, however there is an element of much greater importance in this work----this work is autobiographical for Morrison. Morrison himself hitchhiked great distances across the American deserts, and on a number of occasions returned bruised and injured. He never explained his injuries but on more than one occasion stated that he had killed a man in the desert. Because of Morrison’s notorious tall tales, however, this was never taken very seriously. Based on HWY, it can be concluded that Morrison used his literature to describe his experiences that he had in the desert. Furthermore, Morrison makes a prediction about the future, in that his death will be transcendence to a new existence into a bizarre world.

Although Morrison’s work is undisputedly filled with death, many may overlook a more subtle reference to death. Morrison would speak about a spiritual or interpretive death, rather than simply the end of life. There were many themes about a death of innocence in this mortal life. In Wilderness Morrison wrote, “To feel on the verge of an exorcism/ a rite of passage/ To wait, or seek manhood/ enlightenment in a gun/ To kill childhood, innocence/ in an instant” (Morrison, Wilderness 25). Here Morrison described events in life where a person would lose the naivety of childhood and become exposed to the harsh world. Morrison even explicitly says “kill childhood, innocence”. In another passage, “night of sin (The Fall)/ -1^st sex” (Morrison, Wilderness 21), describes the experience of losing virginity as a fall. This is another example of death in the sense of the death of innocence. Morrison best explains this idea in another poem in Wilderness, “I’m alive. I’m dying” (Morrison, Wilderness 81). Morrison is becoming alive through death, by destroying the naivety of youth. Morrison argues both for the death of innocence in life, and then for purity in death. Morrison believed that “‘First, you must have the period of disorder, chaos; returning to a primal disaster region. Out of that, you purify the elements, and find a new seed of life, which transforms all life, all matter, all personality- until, finally, hopefully, you emerge and marry all those dualisms and opposites.’” (Davis 183) He believed that when a life begins, it is naive but not pure. There must be the death of innocence, of naivety, before the final death can make one reborn into purity. A more subtle tale of the death of innocence is “Summer’s Almost Gone”. This song describes the musings of a man as the summer comes to an end. Morrison meant for this to be a questioning of what will be after death. Life is represented by summer and death by winter. In the song Morrison asks several times, “When the summer’s gone/ where will we be.” The conclusion of this song is the lines, “The winter’s comin’ [sic] on/ Summer’s almost gone” (Morrison, Waiting). This refers to death following life. Interestingly, the following track is entitled “Wintertime Love”. This is mean to conclude that death is still a welcome friend, even after questioning it on whether it will be better than life. The best example of Morrison’s use of spiritual death is the greatly misunderstood portion of “The End” where Morrison describes a killer who murders his family and then has sex with his mother. This portion of the song reads, “The killer awoke before dawn, he/ put his boots on/ He took a face from the ancient gallery/ And he walked on down the hall/ He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he/ Paid a visit to his brother, and then he/ He walked on down the hall, and/ And he came to a door...and he looked inside/ Father, yes son, I want to kill you/ Mother...I want to...fuck you!” (Morrison, The Doors) Morrison was not simply talking about a murderous rampage or any kind of incestuous desires. “Kill the father” means kill all the things in oneself that is not part of them. “Fuck the mother” means to get back to Mother Earth and nature, to get back to reality. (Davis 143) These lyrics are a mirror of Oedipus Rex: destroying alien concepts and getting back to truth and reality. Morrison calls for the true self to be brought forward by destroying everything that is not of the self. Morrison was also an environmentalist who used his lyrics to outline the death of the planet at the hands of man. In “When the Music’s Over”, Morrison croons, “What have we done to the Earth? / What have we done to our pale sister/ Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her/ Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn/ And tied her with fences and dragged her down” (Morrison, Strange). Morrison was one of the first environmentalist singers and would tell the world exactly how the people were killing the planet.

Along with HWY, Morrison had many other pieces of work that were autobiographical. These works firmly cement Morrison’s obsession with death. In “Peace Frog”, Morrison describes different scenes from around America and how they are filling with blood. Morrison mentions at two points in the song, “Blood on the rise, it’s following me” (Morrison, Morrison). Morrison believes that death is following him and that it is spreading throughout the nation. All the locations that he lists in the songs are places that The Doors played. Morrison indicates that he believes himself to be a herald of death of sorts. “Riders on the Storm” is similar to HWY in that they both feature a hitchhiker in the desert who commits murder. The lyrics read, “There’s a killer on the road/ His brain is squirming like a toad” (Morrison, L.A.). This is another reference to Morrison’s days of roaming the desert as a hitchhiker and his hidden murder or desire to murder. Another example comes from Wilderness and was later made into a song called “Bird of Prey”. The phrase “bird of prey” is repeated many times throughout the poem. The bird represents death, as one would expect given the ideas associated with vultures and other scavenger birds. In this poem Morrison asks death, “Am I going to die” (Morrison, Wilderness 139). Here, we again see Morrison’s uncertainty about death; however, he is speaking personally to death. Morrison shared a close connection with death. He said to the press, “I want to feel what it's like. I want to taste it, hear it, smell it. Death is only going to happen to you once; I don't want to miss it” (ThinkExist). Morrison lusted for death all his life, and finally got his wish in the end. He chose his death by the lifestyle that he lived.

Morrison filled his life with prophecies of his death and strange teachings concerning the subject. He believed that there was a purpose in death and that there was a cycle to things. His literature and lyrics are a testament to his beliefs and reflect the strong hold that death had over the Lizard King.

There are many seemingly unrelated plotlines in Bare Bones: The skeleton of an infant is found in a woodstove and the suspect is one of Tempe’s acquaintances; During an outdoors party her dog runs off to find a bag of animal remains and one human bone thrown in the mix; A plane crashes where the passengers were apparently smuggling drugs and maybe something more sinister as well; A handless and headless skeleton is found in an outdoor privy on the farm near where the animal remains were uncovered. As all these events turn out to be intertwined after all, Tempe’s probing might be putting her own life and that of her daughter in terrible danger, but she doesn’t even know what exactly she’s not supposed to be looking into…

The first-person narrative makes you feel very close to Tempe, and you sympathise with her and the stranglehold her career has over her personal life, something that many successful women can certainly relate to.

The fact that in the very first page we are told about something that will happen at the  end, however, takes away some of the sense of immediacy and suspense that is the lifeblood of gripping thrillers. If this book lacks anything, it is a creepy atmosphere thick with fear and foreboding, but it certainly makes up for that with wit and unusual plot threads. Although the endless tangle of plotlines remains a bit confusing to the very end, you are not left feeling lost, and Reich’s style makes the scientific information and complicated nature of the evidence feel manageable.

This is a book that is easy to pick up and easy to put down. You get an entertaining read and you might just learn a thing or two about bones in the process.

This book has been published through many publishers, but my personal copy was Penguin. This book was copyrighted in 1926. It was previously printed in Dodd, Mead, & Company, and HarperPaperback editions.

Introduction

            Like all of Agatha Christies other novels, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd has a very complex plot to it. The main characters are the narrator (this book is in first person), Dr. Sheppard, the famous detective, Poirot (who is present in many of Christie’s books, and other suspects. Poirot is a famous detective in the story, and has happened to retire close to the house of Dr. Sheppard, growing vegetable marrows. From then on, Dr. Sheppard acts as Poirot’s colleague. All the other suspects live in the house of Roger Ackroyd.

            As you can guess, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is a myster-fiction. The murder takes place in Liverpool, England, and probably took place in the early 1900’s. The beginning takes place without Poirot (but still is Dr. Sheppard’s neighbor but goes under the name of Mr. Porot), but Dr. Sheppard is present with his obnoxious sister.

Plot

In the beginning, a widow named Mrs. Ferrars committed suicide and stirs suspicion and rumors. Roger Ackroyd, a wealthy businessman, gives Dr. Sheppard a call asking for medicine. It turned out that Roger really wanted to tell a secret to Dr. Sheppard (they were close friends). Roger Ackroyd was engaged to Mrs. Ferrars. Coincidentally, during the middle of the conversation, a blue letter arrives. It was the confession of the widow’s suicide. Dr. Sheppard and Roger Ackroyd discover in the letter that someone was blackmailing the widow for large sums (they found out a bit before that the widow had killed her husband), but the letter didn’t say

Shakespeare proposes a list of qualities required for kingship. "The king becoming graces". He includes "justice, vertity, temperance, stableness, bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, devotion, patience, courage, fortitude". Although it is an extensive list Duncan possesses them all. He is just by punishing the traitor Cawdor and rewarding Macbeth and Banquo. He is humble, offering to be Macbeth's guest in return for his bravery. He is compassionate in sending the injured captain to have his wounds bathed. In fact Duncan's "Virtues  will plea like angels trumpet tongu'd". Macbeth on the other hand doesn't possess any of these.

Duncan has some faults. He isn't sufficiently brave or capable to lead his armies on the battlefield. Secondly he is gullible and easily deceived. Cawdor betrayed him when Duncan put his "absolute trust" in him and so did Macbeth. But throughout the play an emphasis is placed on Duncan's good qualities. He is compared to Edward the Confessor, King of England, whose "Sundry blessings hang about his throne that speak him fall of grace". He uses God-given healing powers to cure his subjects of "the evil". Both kings are models of the just and benevolent exercise of power.

Macbeth wants Duncans power due to his " Vaulting ambition". He takes the throne by murdering, against his own conscience, and better judgement, a good man who is his guest, subject and Kinsmen. Regicide is unatural and he knows Duncan was a fine king. Malcolm, Duncan's son, was the named successor and was a "step on which I must fall down else o'er leap for in my way it lies". Yet Malcom was weak and did not contest Macbeth's right to the throne after the death of his father. Instead he fled to England and his brother Donalblaine fled to Ireland.

Macbeth aquires his power illegally and immorally, he become "an untitled tyrant bloddy sceptered". He has usurped the throne, a position that should only be held by Macolm the rightful successor to Duncan. Once in power he abuses it. He is tormented by insecurity and angered by the fact he cannot impose his lineage due to Lady Macbeth's infertility. He murders Banquo but Fleance's escape goads him. He recognises that kingship will only be temporary and that even the "seeds of Banquo" have more of a future than he.

Ironically Macbeth doesn't even enjoy his kingship "to be thus is nothing", the chores of rule irritate him and he begins to envy Duncan's peace. Macbeth the "tyrant" soon become demonic in his rule. He murders Lady Macduff and her children, by hiring assassins. The murder is commited on stage and is the most harrowing moment in the play, as it attacks the family unit, which is the basis of society. Macbeth lacks all the virtues that Duncan and Edward embody.

A king's duty to his country must be above his own interests, hence Macbeth's rule is sailed. Macbeth brings only chaos to Scotland, this is symbolized in the darkness that coverd the land  "tis day and yet dark night stangles the travelling lamp". Nature becomes disturbed " a mousing owl hawked at and killed a falcon" horses "broke their stalls and started eating each other". Ross laments that Scotland "cannot be called our mother  but our grave". Royal power corrupts Macbeth and his tyrannical rule is imposed upon the country for which he fought so many battles to protect.

"Each new morn, new widoes howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows strike heaven on the face", these are the effects of Macbeths rule. He broke open the Lords "annointed temple" and stole power for himself. He is in total contrast to Duncan and Edwards kingly virtues. Order and peace are only restored to Scotland when Malcom, the "soverign flower" and Duncan's rightful successor, takes up the crown. For Macbeth kingship was abstract, it was dipping through his fingers at any moment.

The Church of the Dead Girls is a mystery, but it is also so much more. It is told from a perspective that really stood out and I don't remember reading another like it. The storyteller is the small New York town's biology teacher and he is relating events that led up to the discovery of the bodies of three young girls in the attic of a local residence. It is such a comfortable perspective and it allows such a depth of character development, it was astounding. Even the smallest players in the story had their minute or two in the spotlight. I felt like I was sitting by the fire and an old friend was telling me what had happened.

The story opens with the description of how they found the abducted then murdered girls, tied to their chairs, in an attic, filled with sparkling costume jewelry and candles. It then back tracks to where the biology teacher thinks that the trouble started, the murder of the town floozy a year or so back.

What follows is not only the suspenseful tracking of an abductor and murderer, but a heart breaking and complete break down of a small town. Every one is a suspect, many take their kids out of school or even move them out of town, citizens vilify, harass and even attack any one that doesn't quite fit in in the community. It seems that no one is safe from either accusations or just plain heartache. People are afraid of everyone, innocent people are attack and even murdered, old prejudices and fears tumble to the surface until you worry that there isn't going to be a town left when it is all over. Just about every person has a skeleton or two in their closet and they will all be out in the open.

The local police and even the state troopers are doing their best, but they have little to go on when the girls start disappearing. A group of concerned citizens get together to aid, but as in many cases, they tend to do more harm then good, by jumping to conclusions, impeding the investigation and ramping up the fear factor in every one in town. They even start to patrol the streets around the clock, which leads to more suspects and suspicion, but proves useless against keeping more young girls safe. The group and other smaller splinter groups become more of a victim of the mob mentality than a constructive way to find the girls.

I can't say enough how interesting the angle Stephen Dobyns chose is. It made you feel like you were a citizen by the end of the story, you got to know many of it's citizens so well. The way that the story rolled along, it reminded me of an older style mystery of yore by the likes of Henry James. It had a quiet character development that kept raising your interest and investment in the people yet the suspense never left you. You wanted to know what happens not only to the girls, but the bucolic small town. I will be looking for his work again.

Who abducted Sharon Malloy?

Is she still alive?

How many more young girls are going to be taken before they find the answer?

What secrets are the citizens of Aurelius, New York hiding?

Could this happen to you, in your town?

Would you turn on your neighbors or on anyone that doesn't quite fit in?

The Church of the Dead Girls by Stephen Dobyns

Mass Market Paperback: 432 pages

Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks (May 15, 2001)

I love Patricia Cornwell, but this was not her best.

Dr. Kay Scarpetta, the Forensic Medical Examiner is called back to Richmond to assist in the investigation of a girl's murder. She doesn't want to go back to the city that fired her 5 years ago, but it is a child and how can she say no?

Returning to Richmond, she finds that there is a lot more going on than just finding the cause of death of a 14 year old girl. Politics, incompetence, and total chaos now rule the medical examiners office that took her years to lovingly build.

All the while, her significant other, Benton, and her niece, Lucy, are up to some investigation of their own, but keeping it from Scarpetta. It seems that someone is stalking Lucy and even brutally attacked her lover.

Like I said, I am a big fan of the Kay Scarpetta series of Patricia Cornwell. Trace just somehow misses the mark for me. There were some minor story lines that did nothing for the main plot and even muddied that water a few times. The ending was so anticlimactic that I felt cheated. Who wants to read 430 plus pages, only to have the climax wrapped up simple in two pages?

If you have never read Patricia Cornwell and love forensic type mysteries, she is great. Just don't pick this one as your first. For more works by her, check out her site.

The Smart One is a tale of three very different sisters. We have the oh so pretty Claire that continues to cause tongues to wag when she walks into a room even after two kids. Then we have Joey, the wild child, that was a one hit wonder with music years ago, but saw it all disappear to drugs and is now trying to start over clean and sober. Last, but not least, we have Bev, the smart one that everyone thinks she is wasting her intelligence and should be a doctor like her father.

Bev has finally decided that she wants to be a teacher. A noble profession, no doubt, but she is struggling with doubts as she grapples with what she thinks is scorn for her wasted intellect from her family. Her parents neighbors ask her to help show their house that is up for sale while they are down escaping the harsh Long Island weather in Florida.

Easy peazy, right? She is waiting to hear back from a school out west and the lease is up on her apartment, so why not? Not so fast. All quickly goes out the window when two things happen. First, the boy that broke her heart as a young girl by sleeping with her sister, Joey, shows up. Second, it seems that her neighbors aren't quite whom she thought they were. She and her sisters find a body closed up in a metal drum in the crawl space.

What follows is a sometimes heart wrenching, but always funny story of just what those identities or labels that are put on you as a kid can do. And oh yeah, we have to find out how is in the barrel and who murdered her! The pretty girl Claire has to realize that even though she is getting older, that she is more than her looks. The wild child has to get past her wild life and prove to her siblings that she can be trusted again. Then of course, the smart one has to realize that it is okay to be yourself and that no one will hate you if you try and fail.

Ellen Meister has slipped a murder mystery into what might have been a really good book on it's own and it packs a one two punch. What is even better is the humor. Sarcastic and witty, the interactions of the characters often had me in stitches. The chapter dealing with Glenda the good witch and the little people will be one that I remember for a long time. (see, don't you want to read it now??)

The Smart One by Ellen Meister

Paperback: 384 pages

Publisher: Avon A (August 5, 2008)

ISBN-10: 0061129623

ISBN-13: 978-0061129629

Lord of The Flies author, William Golding uses symbolism to portray humanity's problems in a different and not so clear way, making the reader think about the book more carefully and not just flick or skim through the pages. The use of Piggy's death in the novel was a necessity. It needed to occur to demonstrate the effects of uncivilized behavior in our modern world.

The boys land on the strange, exotic island when was has broken out and they are in threat of being killed. An atomic bomb has exploded. For their own protection, a group of boys were being flown over an island when their plane was shot down. Releasing the passenger tube, the plane explodes and most of the boys land safely on the island. The story then revolves around the way the boys organize themselves without any adult presence or intervention. Their behavior often reflects the behavior of adults in the real world. Including such behavior as:

• The battle for power
• Responsibilities and organization
• Prejudice
• The need to worship higher being
• Conformity to rules for safety

Piggy is a main character in the novel. He is portrayed as a fairly well mannered child using typical English school boy speech. He is incapable of performing the duties and tasks that the other boys perform due to his asthma. This makes him vulnerable as an easy target for ridicule. Jack Merridew, on the other hand, is an outspoken child who takes pride in his role as choir director; however, his pride and greed overtake his mind in the lust for power and competence against Ralph, the elected chief, and Piggy who think of great ideas and is a rationalist.

The main problems which contribute to Piggy's death commence early in the novel when Ralph is elected as chief. Jack becomes jealous as he thinks he is better than the rest and should be chief. It was the conch (a twisted long sort of shell that makes a deep sound when blown) that led to Ralph's leadership. The conch helps to make Ralph appear strongest, not necessarily physically but intellectually. The conch is a representation of authority and power. Ralph, Piggy, and Simon represent different aspects of a civilized world the boys have left behind. Jack is a bully who commands through brute force. The others follow blindly.

The hatred towards Ralph and Piggy is built up over the period of time, culminating with Piggy's death and then continuing until they are rescued by the sailor, who is a representative for the world. This hatred is based upon the lust for power and Piggy's use of common sense. Jack becomes jealous and envious of the two friends because he did no think of the idea for a fire. He did not see the great need to be rescued, thus Piggy's death is caused partly by jealousy. Jack gets most of the boys to accept his philosophy “who'll join my tribe and have fun?” as they reject the moral standards of civilization. This can be compared to city gangs of today who reject the common standards of civil society and act according to their own wills, desires, and passions.

Conformity plays a major role in the novel. In the beginning, Jack's boys conform to become a choir, Jack being the choir director. When Jack is given the responsibility of finding food, the choir again conforms to follow Jack and they become hunters. This form of conformity becomes a threat to Piggy and Ralph as the hunters are prepared to do anything that Jack asks of them. They become savages and thus through their conformity and not having any individuality, they kill Simon and Piggy.

Jacks lust for power and leadership is the cause of separation between the groups of boys. This symbolizes the establishment between two opposing parties, one representing a good cause and the other evil. In this instance, Ralph, Piggy and Samneric (Sam & Eric-twins) seeing the need to keep the fire alight to be rescued; Jack and the other boys seeking more for fun, adventure and hunting. Thus Jack, using fear, is able to control the boy's minds through deception, against Piggy. This fear which is created mainly by the thought of “the beast” Jack is capable of establishing a link between the boys natural instincts to act upon their own will and not to act upon a fear of something or someone. This fear is created among themselves and the "beast" is a symbol of themselves and man. Taking into account the things which man has done, especially the new war which has put them in the situation in which they are now. Jack uses this fear to his own advantage. Piggy in a desperate situation is murdered brutally by a falling boulder, unleashed by jack's boys from the top of a cliff. This demonstrates clearly, the hatred Jack has towards Piggy.

Piggy representing a thinker and not a doer in life's society, is noticed by Jack to be a threat and thus seeking vengeance to get his own way, Jack set up a night raid on Piggy and Ralph. The aim, to steal Piggy's glasses. Their goal to steal the glasses is successful and in a vain and foolish attempt to get his glasses back, Ralph and Piggy find themselves in an awkward situation. What starts out to be a pleasant approach soon turns into a tragic death. As Piggy is struck by the falling rock, the conch is smashed into many pieces. This demonstrates that all hope of civilized authority and order being returned to the island has been destroyed, shattered and left to blow in the wind.

Upon reading the novel as both an adventure story and as a perspective on humanity's actions and problems, we come to the conclusion that Piggy's death is indeed of great importance and significance to the novel and is the unique symbolic outcome of man's own faults and difficulties. We can see that the death of Piggy was brought about by many evil problems prevalent in our world today, including pride, conformity, hatred and selfish intent.

That young man, Thomas Daniel, held only one thing dear to his heart now, and that was to give back the tragedy bestowed upon him. Beside Thomas, lay the answer to completing that haunting desire. He knew what must be done, and at this point there was no other way. Thomas looked at the gun that lay next to him, but only for a quick second, for knowing what one must do doesn't necessarily mean that one should be consumed by the method of doing it.

It didn't take long for Thomas to find his destination, Memorial Park. The name seemed just as depressing as before. It had not been a long time since last he was here, in fact, he was here yesterday, and the day before that. Quickly he found the grave stone marked Daniel. Parking the vehicle, Thomas sat in his seat, hands still on the steering wheel, waiting almost, for some kind of sign to tell him what he was doing was wrong.... nothing came. He grabbed the gun putting it into his pants then exited the car, and walked down the same path that had walked everyday for the past month. Kneeling next to the gravestone, he reached out his hand and touched the letters of the first name on the gravestone " ANGELA ".

Those letters were all that now remained of his once desired life, and all that remained of his once living wife, who had nothing to show for her life besides a dash in between the numbers 1984 and 2007 and the memories with the mind of her husband. That was now all she was to the world, a dash, nothing more. Overcome with grief Thomas dropped his head, and fought the tears that were attempting, desperately to escape the lids that wished to shut them in. He lifted his head, glancing left and right, he looked for a place to sit, and to ponder the thoughts of his sorrow, and to regain control of his emotions. To his left there stood a bench, seemingly immoveable, almost like a rock foundation in which his troubles would not bleed through his eyes and disturb the woman he loved.

He sat at the bench, quietly, no word to be spoken, and not even a breath to be heard. He stared into the emptiness of the ground. The dirt remained still undisturbed by anything, it just remained. Thomas envied things that could not feel, for they have nothing to worry about, no feelings fighting to stay alive or trying to find a way out of the hole that it had dug. With that thought the last tear dropped to the ground moistening the dirt, disturbing it. As he remained in his thoughts, Thomas failed to hear footsteps. Footsteps that were making their way to him.

" Mind if I sit with you?" said a man, dressed in a black suit, and matching black shoes.

Thomas lifted his head. The man's face seemed familiar, but something was different which impaired Thomas from remembering it. His face gave off an expression of a, quite truthfully, emotionless face. First Thomas felt an honest and an eager spirit of help and then he felt a sternness that stared back into his eyes when he looked at him.

" Yeah, sure," Thomas said, still looking at his most unusual face which changed after hearing the words Thomas had spoken to him.

" Oh, so you do mind?" the man said, then looked off to the side then back into the eyes of Thomas.

"N-no, I meant, yeah you can sit down," Thomas said motioning toward the other side of the bench.

" Oh, alright," The man sat down, close, but still keeping his distance.

The two sat there for a while, waiting for the other to ask the first question or make the first statement. The man stared off into the sunset, which was occurring behind the trees, and was changing the color of the sky to deep hues of purple, then orange, and finally into a fiery red as it continued its descent behind the tree line. Thomas, like a statue, continued staring at the ground.

" So, are you new to this area or are you just visiting?" The man finally spoke up, attempting to break the silence and at least have a conversation.

" I've lived here for a while, but right now I'm just visiting," Thomas returned in an answering manner that implied his dislike of the conversation.

They both sat, occasionally looking to distract their minds from the awkwardness of the conversation.

" Your family, I'd presume?" The man asked.

Thomas looked straight ahead not wanting to answer the, in his opinion, inappropriate question. Thinking it over and over in his mind Thomas finally gave in to the man's inquiry.

" Kind of, my only family, my wife...... She..... passed away, but that was along time ago," he said.

" Which is why I assumed you were " here," the man said with a smile, then noticing that Thomas had not made any gesture recognizing the attempted humor, he stoned his face, returning it to a serious expression, " I"m sorry for your loss,"

Thomas remained quiet, staring at the ground. He barely moved, the only sign of life was the occasional rise and drop of his body indicating that he was breathing. As they sat there as the wind began to pick up, and toss the leaves about. The color of the leaves, auburn, caused him to think of his wife. She possessed beautiful auburn hair that was cut to her shoulders.

" Angela," he whispered.

" Pardon me?" the man asked.

Thomas stopped looking at the ground and looked up to meet the man's gaze.

" It's been eleven years since it happened," Thomas began.

" Since what?" the man asked.

Thomas ignored the interruption know that he would eventually get to that question in a few short minutes.

" I've had plenty of time to adjust or at least I thought I had," Thomas finished.

" Well, death is a sorrow that doesn't leave very easily," the man said then sighed.

" So you've lost someone too?" Thomas asked.

" Well, losing, but yes, that's why I'm " here," he said with his quirky smile, which he dropped just as fast as last time returning to a serious expression," I had a son, once, well technically I still have, but that"s beside the point. He was perfect, in every aspect of life, a perfect man. Everything his hand touched would immediately personify that perfection. He was innocent of any wrong doing, but he chose to give up his life to save another."

Thomas was silent.

" So, he did as a hero?" Thomas asked, eventually.

The man took some time to think over what he was about to say.

" Yes, yes, in my opinion, and regrettably in the opinions of very few others, yes. He was a hero.”

The man looked down, almost in a motion conventional of trying to hold back or hide tears. Thomas refrained a few minutes before asking his next question. The man sat up, holding his head up, sniffling in quick short bursts.

" Sorry "bout that," the man said.

"It"s fine," Thomas said cautiously, pausing he asked his next question," Did you ever meet the person your son saved?"

"Yes, actually. Quite a number of times, almost a daily basis, you might say," the man returned.

" Doesn't that hurt?" Thomas asked.

The man sat there confused and perplexed, and then glanced at Thomas, looking at him right in the eye.

" I guess.......I don't understand what you mean," he said.

" Well, that you meet the person whom should have died in the place of your son," Thomas clarified.

The man shook his head.

" No, I don't think I have a reason to be hurt, by the action of my son. In fact I feel quite humbled knowing that he was willing to make that sacrifice," the man answered.

Thomas remained still, not satisfied with the answer.

" Well, I mean have you ever wondered why?" he paused," Why your son was killed and the other was left alive?"

" Outside of the fact that it was self-sacrifice?" the man questioned.

" Yeah," he said.

" Well, I've never wondered why my son did it, other than it being the right thing to do," the man paused in his speech," but I've wondered, if this will answer your question, what it would be like if my son hadn't saved him? And frankly, I don't see the world the way it is today. If my son that thought inwards, thinking of only himself, I'm sure that a lot of the later heroes you know of would have never existed and therefore, we wouldn't see the light of this world, however faint it may be. You see? Because one act of strength and courage, can inspire even the most evil of men to perform a righteous act, and in so doing they would no longer be completely evil, would they?"

" No, I guess not," Thomas ponders over the what the man had just said, and then remembers something he meant to ask earlier." What happened to that man? How is he doing now?"

" Not to good, I'm afraid. After what happened to him, I can see why," the man said," He's been wandering from place to place, trying to find an escape from the reality that he wakes up to every morning.

Thomas looks off to the side, intimated by the accuracy of what is being spoken to him.

" He recently lost everything he had; he lost his wife, his job, his money, he's addicted to anti-depressants, and now he's considering the last option he thinks he has left, but not before he finds him. The one who started that chain of events that led him to " here."

Thomas, knowing that the man is speaking of him, looks back at him.

" What"s his name?" he asked, just to be sure.

The man paused, adjusted his seated position.

" His name is................. Thomas Daniel,"

Thoughts began whizzing past him. Speculations, questions, and revelations all flooded his mind at once. Thomas stood up abruptly.

" Who told you........... how did you.....," he couldn't get the words out.

The man put up his hand stopping the mess of words that were involuntarily falling out of Thomas's mouth.

" You will find life much more worth living if you let go of your hatred. If you just let go of that false need of revenge. It only leads to more pain and more anger until it will consume you wholly," the man said.

" Who are you?" Thomas almost shouted.

" You don't remember, Thomas?" the man said.

In that moment, it all came back like a tsunami that overwhelmed the senses and washed away all reasonable thinking. He now remembered, everything

Thomas's back was up against the wall. His breath heavy, his pulse pounding his arteries so hard that it felt as if the blood would just leap out of his body. Then it sounded, the gunshot that changed everything. His heart fell to his stomach. With the scream of his wife and the sound of another gunshot, Thomas closed his eyes and dropped to the floor where he saw him. In the reflection of a picture, he saw him. The man. The same man that he was now talking to............

Thomas pulled out the gun, aiming it at the man. The man that took everything that mattered to him, the man that shattered the life that was his to enjoy.

"You! You took........ Everything.......Everything from me!" Thomas shouted.

The man remained seated, staring at his potential attacker.

" You know you have a choice, don't you?" The man asked," you don't have to kill me............ you just want to."

Thomas didn't say a word.

" My son saved you, Thomas. Are you truly willing to slap him in the face for that?" the man asked, testing him, challenging him on a level he had never been challenge on before.

" What are you talking about?" Thomas asked, shouting just as before,” nobody ever saved me.”

" My son," the man began harshly," saved you, and everyone else in this world. Every person you meet or have met, every man, woman, or child. Even the man who is responsible for killing your wife."

“ You mean you,” Thomas said half-confused.

The man sat motionless on the bench, just staring at Thomas.

Thomas stared back at the man, his jaw quivering, partly because he was trying to hold back his anger and partly because he was realizing something different in the man that wasn't there before. Something..... was more calm than the man he remembered. This man looked exactly like him, but his attitude and his presence were much more different.

" One question, Thomas. Would you give in? Would you kill him to cease your lust of vengeance?" the man asked," you're only deceiving yourself, Thomas. The road of revenge leads only to your own destruction. So.......... would you kill him?"

Thomas stares, now fully realizing that this man is not the man who killed his wife. This man before him now is someone else. No, something else.

"No," Thomas whispers while lowering his gun as he begins to understand," You're not the one who killed her."

They both remain quiet.

" No, I'm not," the man smiles.

" Then how did you know all of that," Thomas asked.

" Well, because I know everything, Thomas," the man said, standing and walking away from the bench.

The true answer came over Thomas, causing a warmth and a disbelief to engulf his body like that of a hug of a lover. He closed his eyes, as a tear rolled down his cheek and slid off of his chin.

" Wait.... Why.....Why did you do this? Why did you come?" Thomas asked.

" I came, Thomas, to bring you exactly what you needed," the man said turning around," and so, I gave you closure and a second chance to live the life I had planned for you to live."

The man turned back around and continued walking until he came to a woman with auburn hair. Then in a instant flash of light he was gone. The woman turned to look a Thomas. She smiled, signifying that everything was alright. Turning around to vanish in the same way.

Thomas sighed, bowing his head down, tears filling his eyes, looking at the ground. Thomas smiled, something he hadn't done in months, with tears rolling down his cheek.

" Closure," he whispered smiling again. Looking up, he withdrew his gun and walked to his car and drove away, tossing out his anti-depressant pills and its container.