“He began to dance and his laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling.”
Currently, I am reading Lord of the Flies by William Golding, and it’s actually stirred up a bit of frustration for me. I read it once, in high school, along with Romeo & Juliet, How to Kill a Mockingbird, and Animal Farm, among others, and along with the others, I was unable to comprehend what the real messages of such literature are. I was bored in high school with the ridiculousness of reading books that seemed to be spewing out thoughts that I could never appreciate, and I was letting it all fly right over my head.
Words can be so strong, and so powerful, but if they’re given to the wrong audience, they are misinterpreted and unappreciated. At the age of 15, I was completely unequipped to understand the feelings of confusion and loneliness that filled Holden Caulfield, and definitely too young to understand how a pig named Napoleon was a metaphor for Joseph Stalin, or even what communism was.
My point is, I guess, that just like trying to build a house without the foundation, it is useless to put such brilliant pieces of work infront of people who don’t have enough information or experience to appreciate them fully.
