I first read Lord of the Flies in high school and was drawn to that intriguing premise. Being a teen short on empathy and wisdom, but long on rebelliousness and energy, the premise that these boys would destroy each other in the absence of rules or grown-ups resonated with me. That’s exactly what would happen, I thought in high school. Reading the novel again in college—not much wiser, but just as rebellious—the premise still held true to me. That’s exactly what would happen, I thought in college. And that was it concerning that book for a very long time. I had read the novel twice and I thought I knew what it was all about. Case closed. Book on the shelf. Done.
Many years later, having read hundreds of novels and written six novels myself (so far), as well as two books of short stories, and published hundreds of cartoons and a dozen poems for good measure (during my angsty 20s), I still thought the same thing whenever I noticed Lord of the Flies on the Amazon bestseller lists. As of this very moment (2:48pm on Sunday, December 8, 2019), Lord of the Flies is #11 on the Young Adult Classics list as well as #1,285 in Books overall in Amazon’s Book Store, which carries millions of books, by the way. And this is a novel that was first published in 1954—for gods sakes. What. the. Hell?! This premise must still have a hold on our collective imaginations. That’s exactly what would happen? I thought last year. Wouldn’t it? Right?! My curiosity was piqued.
I decided to do what every modern human would do. I fell into an internet vortex which started with a simple Google search of Lord of the Flies, that led to summaries of various websites with articles about or dissecting the novel, that led to a link to a Wikipedia page about William Golding, which instigated my revigorated interest as a full-grown adult in Lord of the Flies. One of the things I learned about Lord of the Flies was that it was William Golding’s response to another novel titled The Coral Island, which was a novel written by Scottish author R. M. Ballantyne in 1857, and was one of the first works of juvenile fiction to feature exclusively juvenile heroes. The story relates the adventures of three boys named Ralph, Jack, and Peterkin marooned on a South Pacific island (sound familiar?), the only survivors of a shipwreck. (I lifted this summary off the Wikipedia page. FYI.) I had already decided at this point that I was going to reread Lord of the Flies for a third time, but since I hadn’t heard of The Coral Island before and since it was the novel that Lord of the Flies was written in response to, I decided—right then and there—to read it first. Boy, was I in for a treat. Reading an adventure book from 1857 that I had never heard of before in my spare time? Seemed like the right thing to do.
The Coral Island is an “adventure story for young folks” as described by the author, one similar to Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. It is told by Ralph Rover, one of the boys, in first-person as an adult, reminiscing about his time stranded in the South Pacific. The book is steeped in Christian morality and is somewhat hindered by the narrator and author’s limited worldview. The first 60% of the book is about the boys’ time on the pristine island and they encounter few dangers except for a shark that happens into their favorite swimming bay. When the boys encounter cannibals that land on their island, then Ralph is kidnapped by pirates soon after, the plot finally revs up, at the behest of losing the presence of two of the boys since they remained on the island. Ultimately, the novel is bogged down by the Christian moralizing, where as the pirates and cannibals are the salacious counterpoint to the Christian crusaders that convert the heathen cannibals and offer an assist to the boys when they needed it most. I found this novel to be more of a historical document than a fun read. Although the relationship between the boys was sweet and realistic, the rest of the book left little to be desired in this modern reader.
In contrast, Lord of the Flies is a well-crafted allegory with beautifully descriptive passages about Ralph, Jack (sound familiar?), Piggy, Simon, and a group of British boys stranded on an uninhabited island and their disastrous attempt to govern themselves. The narrator of Lord of the Flies tells the lost boys’ story vividly and, at times, poetically, yet keeps an emotional distance from the boys, never eliciting empathy or affection for them or their dilemma. Golding explains before starting his story that these boys represent scaled-down society and, if left to their own devices, would reduce their company to all-out anarchy. This is where Golding’s genius lies: creating a premise to contemplate where evil instigates. Golding demonstrates that the disregard of rules and order is what nurtures evil, and it’s hard not to disagree with Golding because of the way he structures his story with these three fetid protagonists.
Ralph is not an empathetic character, as demonstrated by his disregard of Piggy’s feelings throughout the novel, only to have the tiniest bit of remorse for Piggy when it’s too late. Jack’s self-esteem is so low that he props up his toxic masculinity with bold promises of hunt kills and other threats of violence. Even Piggy’s sniveling and hurt feelings are tossed to the side because of his brazen toadiness. It was plain to see from the start of the novel where it was going with these three malcontents leading the stranded children. There was no chance for a positive coexistence on the island without the moral compass of grownups or adults around to steer them right.
But unlike The Coral Island’s slow first half of pastoral observations of the island (there were a couple of natural disasters those three boys easily overcame), Golding wastes no time after the first chapter wallowing in detailed observations of nature. He quickly jumps into the meat of his narrative, dissecting the boys’ interactions with his keen eye, their one-upmanship on full display, their decisions based on hurt feelings and wounded pride. The economy of Golding’s storytelling is a marvel and his ability to create some truly beautiful sentences is astounding. By the time the story abruptly ended, my mind raced with the possibility of redemption for these terrible boys, these little lords of corruption.
These terrible boys.
That’s it. That’s the key to the premise right there. That marvelous premise.
With these terrible boys.
Of course, these four boys—these terrible boys—were going to fuck each other over in the end. That was plain to see from the start, from the very first two pages. And because of that, Golding’s premise teeters. This is not a scaled-down society, as he posits. This is four damaged, White boys infecting the lot with their toxic masculinity, their low self-esteem, and their desire to be the leader. Evil germinates within these four boys because this is fertile ground for evil to grow. Maybe I could see this more plainly on my third reading because I’m older, wiser, a more experienced reader and writer, a father, a good friend, and... well, a full-fledged human being. I started thinking.
That’s not exactly what would happen.
What if the boys were friends from the start instead of bastards?
What if the friends were like the kids I knew in junior high or middle school?
Would they fuck each other over?
No, they wouldn’t.
I am certain of this.
And this, everybody, is how the mind of a writer works. Well, this writer at least. This was the genesis of my new story, the story that would become The Benevolent Lords of Sometimes Island. What would happen if four friends of diverse backgrounds were stranded somewhere in the middle of Texas during the time when I was their age, circa mid-1980s? Sounded interesting to me. I’d never written something in response to an already published story before, let alone a famous story like Lord of the Flies. But if William Golding did it, then why couldn’t I?
Why couldn’t I?
I began outlining a story with characters based on the boys I knew when I was in junior high—kind and funny boys of different races and different economic backgrounds. Where would they get stranded in the middle of Texas? How would they get there? What would they do once they were stranded? How would they treat each other? What kind of danger would they encounter? Would they be able to survive? Besides, I loved this era of the 1980s. It was a formidable time for me with great music, movies, comic books, video games—you
name it! This was working itself out to be a great idea for me, not only as a writer, but as a fan of great literature.
My response.
My addition to this literary conversation.
This is exactly what would happen.
There was one more story added to this mix. A novella, actually. While in my Lord of the Flies internet vortex, I remembered seeing a list of famous authors who loved Lord of the Flies. Stephen King was one of them. Turns out he references Lord of the Flies quite a bit in his own work. His fictional town in Maine called Castle Rock is named after the mountain of rocks on the island in Lord of the Flies where Jack claims the beast resides. And my favorite story of King’s, The Body, is about four boys from Castle Rock who go on an adventure to find the dead body of Roy Brower. And even though the four boys in this story—Gordie, Chris, Teddy, and Vern—are not stranded on a deserted island, it is clear that their adventure is inspired by Golding’s take on feral boys in the wilderness. I decided to read this novella again for the third time. Here’s what I discovered.
Structurally, this novella is flawed. There are some things about it that I do not like at all and detracts from the overall plot and narrative. But even with its flaws, it is an amazing story with literary flourishes and fully-formed characters. It has a touch of nostalgia and reveals an endearing remembrance of a friendship whose power is not diminished over time. It’s an affecting depiction of the power of friendship. “The most important things are the hardest things to say…” is the mantra of this story. Stephen King repeats this mantra a few times, even parses it at one point, then admits to the irony of an author declaring that words diminish the important things in our lives.
Here’s the brief book description: It’s 1960 in the fictional town of Castle Rock, Maine. Ray Brower, a boy from a nearby town, has disappeared, and twelve-year-old Gordie Lachance and his three friends set out on a quest to find his body along the railroad tracks. During the course of their journey, Gordie, Chris Chambers, Teddy Duchamp, and Vern Tessio come to terms with death and the harsh truths of growing up in a small factory town that doesn’t offer much in the way of a future. This novella is the basis for the classic movie Stand by Me which was released in 1986 (the year The Benevolent Lords of Sometimes Island takes place), although the story itself takes place in 1960.
King shows great descriptive flair and the dialogue is snappy and true to life. Gordie (the narrator and one of the boys as an adult) is likeable and an effective storyteller who reveals the goodness beneath the hard exterior that is beginning to form during this formidable time in their lives. The story is both an adventure and a coming-of-age tale with a bit of mystery. We, the readers, never find out how or why exactly Ray Brower is killed, neither at the time or in hindsight. But the initial spookiness of his death and the morbid desire of the boys to see his body eventually turns into a meditation on life, what Ray Brower will be missing, and what the four friends unintentionally have to look forward to in their own lives. The connection between the four friends is palpable, particularly between Gordie and Chris. They eventually find the wherewithal to do better in school, so they can escape the oppressive blue-collar life of the town of Castle Rock. And the connection they have begins with this adventure to find Ray Brower.
Structurally, I feel the novella fails in a couple of areas. First, two short stories were included—in full—within the novella that are examples of what Gordie publishes as an adult when he becomes a professional writer. Unfortunately, they do not add anything to the story of the four, young friends; and the “pie eating contest” could have more effectively been told by young Gordie as a campfire tale within the main narrative. Second, the ending is a letdown. It feels—to me—like King didn’t know what to do with a story like this, as it was way outside of his wheelhouse at the time of its original publication. The morbid Ch 33 and deflated Ch 34 (the last two chapters) seem as if King decided to “right the ship” and steer the plot to an ending that would ultimately satisfy his horror-loving readership, rather than find meaning in the things he is exploring in this story: friendship, camaraderie, and many of the important things in one’s life. “The most important things are the hardest things to say…” And as we are reminded of this time and time again in the story, King chooses not to say them, or even to try to attempt to say what he really wants to say. A period of great friendship in a person’s life can have a lasting effect, one that resonates long after the friendship is over, as is evident in a story like this. In the end, King was and still is known as a horror writer, and there was no way he was going to end this story on a positive note.
But again, even with these flaws, I love this novella. The friendship between the boys is the heart of the story and I love their adventure and the way they look out (mostly) for each other. I love that an adventure like this can be known only to its principal actors, as no one in Castle Rock is aware of what they are doing during their time looking for Ray Brower, and it is a secret we share with the boys. And I love being reminded that any preconceptions you can have about a writer can be shattered with a curveball like this. King summarizes the story best at the end of Ch 11, right in the middle of the novella. “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, did you?”
Why yes, Mr. King. I did.
I was very fond of them.
They were the inspiration for William, Randy, Miguel, and Brian.
And I wasn’t going to let what happened to Chris, Teddy, and Vern happen to William, Randy, Miguel, and Brian.
They deserved better.
So, as I reread and analyzed these great stories by Ballantyne, Golding, and King, I wasn’t in the position to write my own story about four friends who escaped to an abandoned house by a lake in the middle of Texas, then become stranded on a rocky island out in the middle of the lake after being chased by their worst enemies—Bloody Billy and Rogelio from the Thousand Oaks Gang. I was writing my novel To Squeeze a Prairie Dog at the time. Since I was busy with that project, I did what many writers would do. I ruminated about this beautiful nugget of an idea for a story. And a year after finishing To Squeeze a Prairie Dog, then publishing it, then promoting it, I begin writing The Benevolent Lords of Sometimes Island in June 2019 and finished writing in December of 2019.
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
And thank you R. M. Ballantyne, William Golding, and Stephen King for your stories. I hope that my story is a worthy addition to this literary discussion.
Author’s Note and Acknowledgments
If you could, then please indulge me a few more minutes so I can acknowledge the folks who helped me with this novel and give credit where credit is due. Writing novels is a long and difficult journey, although a very satisfying one for me. But I have discovered after taking this journey quite a few times that it is a much more pleasant experience when I have a great team to assist with the journey. So, I would like to acknowledge the folks who have helped me so much along the way.
Brandon Wood for your editing.
Lori Hoadley for your editing.
Charlotte Gullick for your editing.
Andrew Leeper for your cover design.
My kids—Ryan, Sophia, Ahnika, and Colin—for your support.
My sister, Sheryl Russell, and brother-in-law, Chris Russell, and niece Haley Nicole, for your support.
My mother-in-law, Cora Hoadley, for your support and readership.
My father-in-law, Ed Hoadley, for your storytelling. Rest in Peace.
My Uncle Barry Semegran and Aunt Jody for your support and readership.
My parents—Mike and Eloise Semegran—for everything. Rest in peace.
My friends—Dave Holmes and Michelle Zweede—for your friendship, and for just listening.
To all my beta readers—John Morgan, Anthony Marks, Jeff Loftin, James Grayson, Cora Hoadley, and so many more—thank you for your insight and kind words.
My literary brethren—Larry Brill, Heathe
r Harper Ellett, Charlotte Gullick, Brian Kendall, Selraybob, J. Reeder Archuleta, Owen Egerton, Jacqui Castle, Michelle Rene, S. Usher Evans, and all the other great writers I’ve met along the way—that are kicking ass and taking names with their great books. Huzzah!
But most importantly—my wife, Lori Hoadley, for her love and support. For her editing. For her kind spirit. For help with creating a home and a family life conducive for me to be a productive, creative person. For that, I am truly and forever grateful. She is a gift to me. And without her, this novel wouldn’t have been completed.
Take care, Scott.
About the Author
Scott Semegran is an award-winning writer of eight books. BlueInk Review described him best as “a gifted writer, with a wry sense of humor.” His latest novel, The Benevolent Lords of Sometimes Island, is about four middle school friends who sneak away to an abandoned lake house to evade the wrath of high school bullies, only to become stranded on the lake’s desolate island. His previous novel, To Squeeze a Prairie Dog: An American Novel, was the 2019 Readers’ Favorite International Book Award Winner: Silver Medal for Fiction - Humor/Comedy, the 2019 Texas Author Project Winner for Adult Fiction, and the 2020 IBPA Benjamin Franklin Award Gold Medal Winner for Humor. His book Sammie & Budgie was the first place winner for Fiction in the 2018 Texas Authors Book Awards. His book BOYS was the 2018 IndieReader Discovery Awards winner for Short Stories. He lives in Austin, Texas with his wife, four kids, two cats, and a dog. He graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a degree in English.
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