Pincher Martin

by William Golding

The sole survivor of a torpedoed destroyer is miraculously cast up on a huge, barren rock in mid-Atlantic. Pitted against him are the sea, the sun, the night cold, and the terror of his isolation.

At the core of this raging tale of physical and psychological violence lies Christopher Martin’s will to live as the sum total of his life.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Literature, Novels, 20th Century, Fantasy, British Literature

216 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1956

About the author

Sir William Gerald Golding was a British novelist, playwright, and poet. Best known for his debut novel Lord of the Flies (1954), he published another twelve volumes of fiction in his lifetime. In 1980, he was awarded the Booker Prize for Rites of Passage, the first novel in what became his sea trilogy, To the Ends of the Earth. He was awarded the 1983 Nobel Prize in Literature.
As a result of his contributions to literature, Golding was knighted in 1988. He was a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. In 2008, The Times ranked Golding third on its list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945".

Reviews

[Vit Babenco · Rating 4 out of 5]

A man is in agony of drowning…

When the air had gone with the shriek, water came in to fill its place – burning water, hard in the throat and mouth as stones that hurt. He hutched his body towards the place where air had been but now it was gone and there was nothing but black, choking welter. His body let loose its panic and his mouth strained open till the hinges of his jaw hurt.

He struggles to survive… Is he a sole survivor? Everything is uncertain and ambiguous…

Eternity, inseparable from pain, was there to be examined and experienced. The snarl endured. He thought. The thoughts were laborious, disconnected but vital. 
Presently it will be daylight.
I must move from one point to another.

The narration is boldly experimental… Struggling with the text is similar to the agony of this drowning man…
Scenes are bleary and shifty like oneiric visions… Water… Light… Pain… Rocks… Gulls…

The rock had diminished from an island to a thing. In the sunlight and absence of cold the whole could be inspected not only with eyes but with understanding. He saw at once that the trenches were the worn ends of vertical strata and the walls between them, harder layers that had worn more slowly.

When our reason falls asleep, irreality replaces reality.

[Jonathan · Rating 5 out of 5]

In my house growing up there were, I am glad to say, many books. Once I hit my early teens and began to seriously get a reading obsession, I would raid my parent's shelves for anything that might catch my eye. I was, I suspect, about 14 when this 1962 Penguin edition fell into my hands. Look at that cover. Just look at it for a second. How could I not want to read it? How could I not be already a little terrified? Reading it over the next few nights is one of the most profound early(ish) memories I have of being totally drowned within a narrative, of my heart pounding and something scarring itself deep down at the base of my brain. It scared the shit out of me, I think, to find myself inside a man's mind on that lonely little bird-shit splattered outcrop of rock. Death inevitable. Insanity inevitable. I sensed something of what it must be to have your self fracture and fail, and it terrified me.

I aim to re-read this at some point, and am curious to see how it holds up. I have no doubt the man can write, so have little fear it will be anything less than spectacular. I can still remember reading that terrible, terrible ending, I can still see the image that was created in my mind's eye, exactly as I saw it all those years ago. This is a rare thing for me as, in general, my memory is pretty rubbish, so know that it must be something special. Anyway, I heartily recommend it, particularly if you can find an old paperback with that lovely stale-pages smell. It seems appropriate somehow.

[Hugh · Rating 3 out of 5]

I suspect Golding will always remain an author I find difficult to like. I still don't understand how the Booker judges preferred Rites of Passage to five other books on the 1980 shortlist (Earthly Powers, A Month in the Country, Clear Light of Day, No Country for Young Men and The Beggar Maid).

I saw this on my parents' shelf and decided to give him one more chance. Most of the book appears to be the story of a seaman whose ship is sunk in the Atlantic during the Second World water. Initially we hear how he surfaces, then finds partial salvation by landing on an isolated rock where he finds a pool of drinkable water and sustains himself on raw mussels. His mental state is fragile, and much of the story finds him revisiting incidents in his past. The whole thing, though short, feels a little relentless, and I can't say it was very enjoyable to read, though there must be admirable technical qualities in the writing.

[Fact100 · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Uyku bilinçli bekçinin, tasnif edicinin gevşeyişidir. Şiddetli bir rüzgârda çöp sepetinden havalanmış, ayıklanmamış tüm şeylerin uçarak geldiği zamandır uyku. Uykuda zaman doğrusal çizgiden boşanıyordu, bu yüzden de Alfred ile Sybil ve zırıl zırıl ağlamış suratlı, sümüklü oğlan, kayanın üstünde onun yanındaydılar. Ya da uyku, kişiliğin bozguna uğradığı; ölümlülükte içkin olanı, bizlerin geçici varlıklar olduğumuz ve çoğunlukla kendimizin sandığımız, günlük molalar olmasa tempoya katlanmaktan âciz olduğumuz gerçeğini fazlasıyla büyük bir içtenlikle kabullenerek, ölüme bir razı geliş, tam bir bilinçsizliğe dalıştı...

"O halde neden uyuyamıyorum?"

Uyku, incelenmeden bırakılması daha iyi olana dokunduğumuz yerdir. Orada, yaşamın tümü sarıp sarmalanmış, ufalmıştır. Orada dikkatle güdülüp zevkine varılan kişilik, tek hazinemiz ve aynı zamanda da tek savunmamız, şeylerin nihai hakikati, her şeyi ayırıp yok eden kara şimşek; olumlu, sorgulanmaz hiçlik içinde yok olup gitmelidir.

Ben de burada uzanıyorum, muşambadan zırha bürünmüş bir yaratık, bir yarığın içine fırlatılmış, bir dünya ömrünün körelttiği dişlerin arasındaki bir yiyecek kırıntısı.

Ah Tanrım! Niçin uyuyamıyorum?

Yüzünü kaldırmış, gözler kasvetli tünelin içinde ileriye dikilmiş halde can yeleğine iki eliyle sarılarak, şaşkınlık ve dehşet karışımı bir duygu içinde kendi sorusunun yanıtını fısıldadı.

"Uyumaya korkuyorum."" (s.82)

[Bettie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Description: The sole survivor of a torpedoed destroyer is miraculously cast up on a huge, barren rock in mid-Atlantic. Pitted against him are the sea, the sun, the night cold, and the terror of his isolation. At the core of this raging tale of physical and psychological violence lies Christopher Martin’s will to live as the sum total of his life.

Opening: He was struggling in every direction, he was the centre of the writhing and kicking knot of his own body. There was no up or down, no light and no air. He felt his mouth open of itself and the shrieked word burst out.
“Help!”


'But what ship was ever so lop-sided? A carrier? A derelict carrier, deserted and waiting to sink? (page 12 of 138)
There was Rockall there.

Ooo this was ambiguous and terrifying, and I think that image of man floating in a jam jar of water will regrettably stay with me for a while.

So what is worse, to die quickly or to linger in illness, solitude and bouts of madness? Both existential scenarios are on display here and lots to ponder upon.

3* Pincher Martin
3* Lord of the Flies

[James Tingle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Just finished this novel and it's a very hard one to sum up properly. Unsettling and quite scary in a way, especially for those with a healthy respect for the ocean and it's crushing power and ridiculous depths. Without going into any details of the plot, which may spoil it, the book is only short but doesn't feel like a quick read at all as it is quite dense narrative and although there is some dialogue of sorts, it's mainly a slow, descriptive type of read. Anyone looking for a thrilling page turner would be better off looking elsewhere as this is more of a slow burner and only gradually progresses in it's own time.
I feel it is one of those books you finish and feel strange and a little uneasy about- the writing quality was good and very poetic but sometimes you are left feeling a bit confused as to what exactly is being referred to, as Golding likes to be quite obscure and vague sometimes it would seem...
Overall, I found it to be a deep, dark, profound, affecting and disturbing reading experience which you know won't be forgotten in a hurry.

[Matthew · Rating 1 out of 5]

The worst experience I've ever had with a book. I lost it on purpose after failing to pawn it off on someone who asked me why I hated it. I told them and they said 'forget it'.
If you want a book filled with descriptive material that finds you rereading paragraphs because your mind has wandered onto something more interesting, a book with the biggest anti-ending of any book I've ever read, read this book.

[Julian Worker · Rating 4 out of 5]

William Golding won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1983. His first novel, Lord of the Flies, is probably his best known work.

Pincher Martin is on a navy vessel escorting a North Atlantic convoy during WWII. His ship is torpedoed and sinks, but Martin is the sole survivor and ends up on a rock on his own in the middle of the ocean. The book is entirely set on this rock.

He is exposed and isolated surrounded by the sea, the sun, the cold and his evident isolation. He is injured, he is hungry, but it's his thoughts that are the most terrifying as he remembers incidents from his past that he regrets and perhaps wishes he'd handled differently. He organises a pool of rainwater for drinking and eats shellfish which give him food poisoning. He gives names to features of the rock to make it homely, but there's no escape from himself.

[Carolyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

A marvellous literary supplement to any reading of Spinoza, Descartes, Liebniz, even phenomenologists such as Merleau-Ponty. While, superficially, Pincher Martin is a survival story, its primary conflict is found not as man vs. environment but rather man vs. self.

The novel is a meditation on the philosophical Theories of Substance. Golding chronicles the interactions of mind and body, iterating the enmeshment of their respective existences. The outer surface of the body (the skin) of main character Chris Martin symbolizes the phenomenological interface between inner and outer environments. Various cutaneous pathologies erupt as the character's perceptions disintegrate into madness. Golding also introduces various mythological and existentialist symbolisms, including the myths of Prometheus and Sisyphus (e.g. "Ideally, of course, the stone should be a sphere.").

Readers who fail to miss Pincher Martin's structural richness will be sorely disappointed by the book. You must allow yourself to read beyond the text itself. Interact with this work of literature, and you will be rewarded with a goldmine.

[Richard · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is another book, like Ragtime, that for me evokes more memories of a specific time and place than of the book itself. It was sometime around 1980, and having walked and hitched from the beginning of the Appalachian Trail to the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts, I eventually found myself on the coast outside Ipswich. Having spent one very buggy night on the beach I was headed back into town when a wonderful gentleman by the name of Diggory Venn picked me up; having heard my story he turned around and took me back to his home, introduced me to his wife and son, and offered me the use of his guest house as long as I needed it.

So comfortably ensconced here I found a copy of Pincher Martin and began to read. As I read I was absentmindedly eating from a box of raisins. I remember the sensation of something on my face and brushing at my face without really thinking what I might be brushing at. After a couple of minutes of this I finally looked down at the box in my hand, realizing at that point that I had probably eaten more ants than raisins.

Anyway, I remember enjoying the book, though it has been a while now and I probably need to re-read it.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

Christopher Hadley Martin finds himself suddenly in the North Atlantic Sea after his destroyer is torpedoed and sunk. Apparently he miraculously is washed up on a rocky island outcrop. He then survives by finding water, shelter and food. Slowly is condition worsens and he has flashbacks of his life. Christopher is not a nice person.

This story is about perception, time and the author uses the castaway to illustrate the struggle humanity has against the planet. Martin is Prometheus chained to a rock where we wonder is he hallucinating while he drowns or is slowly going insane on a remote Atlantic rock.

Very disturbing and powerful short novella.

[Joel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Incredibly compelling. Golding's virtuoso prose pushes the limits. The sheer physicality of his descriptions, the sense of exhaustion and pain, is almost overwhelming. Occasionally, the narrative breaks down - on purpose - into terrifying abstractions. It's a punishing read.

[Joey · Rating 5 out of 5]

I included British writer William Golding in my favorite –writer list on Goodreads , along with one of America’s best novelists Toni Morrison andE. L. Doctorow , Dutch writer Ian McEwan, famous American educator Frank McCourt, one of America’s best essayists Richard Rodriguez ,one of the best Black American revolutionary writer Richard Wright, atheists Sam Harris andChristopher Hitchens , and Filipino children writer Genaro Gojo Cruz.

His classic novel Lord of the Flies demonized me to ostentatiously display him up there. I don’t know how I ended up considering him as one of them. I just remember that the novel ‘s main characters broke my heart. I won’t forget Ralph, the boy who led the group but was outplayed and outwitted by the domineering Jack along with his adherents; Piggy, Ralph’s loyalist, the hero of the story who died of his principle for pacifism and unity; and Simon, the boy who was mistaken for a monster and eventually killed by Jack’s group. But I came to understand that I did not make a mistake after discovering that there is a deeper way of how to understand it in the context of politics. Thus, there is a reason why William Golding deserves to be celebrated as one of the best writers in the world of literature, and Pincher Martin is another testimony to this claim.

Pincher Martin bears little resemblance to his immortal and classic Lord of the Flies. Both novels bear on how to survive being a castaway on a far-off island. The only differences are that the former one focuses on one character while the latter one is on a group of children, young students in effect. Besides, the deeper lowdown on the former one on the one hand is on existentialism, individualism, objectivism- steeped in philosophical and psychological questions. The latter one, on the other hand, is on politics aptly portrayed by young characters.

Pincher Martin is a just a taciturn novel for me since it involves one character, apart from the other ones flashed back in the character’s memory. Reading it is like being a castaway, silent, putting yourself in his shoes, musing over the possible approaches to surviving the island. At first, I would feel the trauma and confusion about ending up in that uncivilized place until I woke up to the grim reality. However, as time passed by, I would come to the end of my wits that everything imaginable would fail, so all I would have to do is to beat my head against a stone and realize that the best way to survive is to use my intelligence, education , and training. At the same time, using the three necessary traits to survive, I would suffer from philosophical crisis in that I would doubt my existence on this planet. By the same token, out of physical and mental pains, I would be subject to psychological conditions like mirage or any forms of delusions.

Pincher Martin is another revelation for me that William Golding was such a skilled writer. In this novel, he showed the real quality of a gifted writer that writing a novel not only focuses on the characters’ papers they embody but also on the other perspectives. In this novel, Golding tried to paint another portray of being a castaway. He perfectly described what a castaway could be, being alone on an island. It is not just about how to survive but also how to help oneself get over the possible philosophical realizations one must face since no one is an island. However, Golding’s intention is not as conspicuous as his Lord of the Flies which I thought that I was just reading an adventure. The novel turns out to be deeper than its story. In other words, Pincher Martin, to put it bluntly, is like a brochure handed out by a flight attendant which will give you tips on what the possible things you might experience and do when you are a sole survivor. To make the brochure worth reading, it is inserted with beautiful quotes.

Admittedly, I had a hard time reading it despite that it is said to be lightly written. I guess what the book reviewers are referring to is its narration centering around Pinch Martin’s surviving scenes. But in terms of philosophical realizations, they are not at all. I am sorry. I am not that really smart. I am just a smartass. Enough said, Joey!

[GÜRSEL SOYBIR · Rating 5 out of 5]

Her yönde çırpınıyordu, kendi bedeninden oluşmuş, kıvranıp tekmeler atan düğümün merkeziydi. Ne yukarısı vardı, ne aşağısı, ne ışık vardı ne de hava.

Soğuk ve bitkinlik onunla açık açık konuştular. “Vazgeç, kıpırdamadan yat. Geri dönme düşüncesini, yaşama düşüncesini kafandan çıkar. Kes at, olacağına varsın. Bu kayanın üstünde bir saat bir ömürdür. Burada işkence dışında bir şey yok.”

Yenilgiyi reddeden kas gücü ya da sinirsel dayanıklığı kalmamıştı. Ama bütün görüntülerin, açıların, ve seslerin merkezinde çelikten bir çubuk gibi bir gerçek, bir şey vardı. Kafasının karanlığının içinde var olmuştu, karanlıktan da karanlık, varoluşu her şeyden bağımsız ve yok edilemez bir gerçekti.

Can yeleğinin üstüne uzanmış bir kütleydi. Kütlenin tepesinde dünyanın yuvarlak, kemikten küresi vardı ve kendisi de onun içinde asılıydı. Evren uzayın derinliklerinde başlayıp dalgalar halinde gelen sarsıntılara maruz kalıyordu.

İnsanın ilkbaharın parlak ışığıyla ısınmadan önce kaç ay dayanması gerektiğini anladı. Güneşin ateşlerini öteki ateşlerle karıştırmıştı; arazilerdeki, bahçelerdeki, kucaklardaki ateşlerle. Bu ateşlerden birisi öyle direngendi ki, gerçeklik oradaydı ve seyredilmesi gerekirdi.

Sakin denize baktı. “Kahramanlık iddiasında değilim. Ama sağlıklıyım, eğitimliyim, ve zekiyim. Seni alt edeceğim.” Eğitim, zeka ve iradenin karşısında pek ağırlığı kalmamış taşın üstüne yeniden yattı. Kendisini dinleyen birisinin olup olmadığına bakmadan söyleyeceğini söyleyen biri gibi konuşmaya başladı.

Hedef, buradan kurtulmak. Bunun için yegane gereklilik hayatta kalmak. Bu beni yaşatmalıyım. Bunun yaptım mıydı, iş iyi mi olmuş, çok sürmüş mü hiç farketmez. Hayat ipliği kopmadığı sürece, bu berbat perde arasına karşın, geçmişi geleceğe bağlayacaktır. Bütün yapmam gereken yaşamak ve beklemek. Gerçeklikten kopmamalıyım.

Bedeni güçlüklere maruz bırakıp da, zavallı hayvancağızın refah içindeymiş gibi davranmasını bekleyemem. Aklıma mukayyet olmalıyım. Deliliğin pençesine düşüp, beni ele geçirmesine izin veremem. Normal yaşamda yüksek sesle konuşmak delilik belirtisidir. Burada ise kimliğin kanıtı.

Kayayı isimlerle donatıyor, ehlileştiriyorum. Bazı kimseler bunun önemini anlamaktan aciz olabilirler. Ad koymak bir damga basmak, boyun eğdirmektir. Bu kaya bana kendi usüllerini benimsetmeye kalkışırsa buna karşı çıkar, kendi alışkanlıklarımı ve coğrafyamı dayatırım. İsimlerle kısıtlayacağım onu.

İnsanları deliliğe götüren uykusuzluktur. Uyku; bilinçli bekçinin, tasnif edicinin gevşeyişidir. Kişiliğin bozguna uğradığı, ölümlülükte içkin olanı, bizlerin geçici valıklar olup, molalar olmasa tempoya katlanmaktan aciz olduğumuz gerçeğini kabullenerek, ölüme bir razı geliş, bilinçsizliğe dalıştır. İncelenmeden bırakılması daha iyi olana dokunduğumuz yerdir. Orada yaşamın tümü sarıp sarmalanmış, ufalmıştır.

İnsanoğlu örüntüler üretir ve bunları doğaya uygular. Doğaya doğal olmayan bir örüntü, herhangi bir rasyonel seyirciye, “bak, işte düşünce, işte insan” diye haykıran bir örüntü dayatmak için.

Görünürde beden yoktu, giyilmiş malzemelerin birleşimiydi. Bir ayna olmadan nasıl tam bir kimliğe sahip olabilirdi. “Önceden, beni bana tanımlayan başka insanlar vardı. Bana aşık oldular, beni takdir ettiler, bu bedeni okşayıp benim için tanımladılar. Kendilerine üstün geldiğim ya da benden hazzetmeyen, benimle dalaşan insanlar.”

Kollarını kendine dolayıp sıkıca kucakladı kendisini, sağdan sola sallandı. Mırıldanmaya başladı. “Kendine gel, sakin ol. Kimdiysem oyum ben.”

Kullanabileceğim şeyler var. Zeka. Son bir hendek, yekpare bir taş gibi “irade”. Tüm örüntülerin anahtarı, onları dayatmaya, yaratmaya muktedir “irade”. Yeterliliğinden kuşku duymayan, karanlık sağlam merkez.

Akıl sağlığı, gerçekliğin değerini bilme yeteneğidir. Benim durumumun gerçekliği nedir, Atlantik ortasında bir kayanın ortasında tek başımayım. Kayanın katı ve kımıldamaz olduğunu aklımda tutmalıyım. Kaya kımıldarsa demek ki aklımı yitirmişimdir.

Zamanın başlangıcından beri yinelenen örüntü, bilinmeyen şeyin yaklaşması, kendisini yaratan şeye sırtını dönüp kaçmak için çırpınan bir karanlık merkez.

Rüzgarda çevreme bakarken dikkat etmeliyim. Yeniden ölmek istemiyorum. Neden usanacakmışım, hayatta kalmaktan.

“Deliyim ben”. Altıncı gün tanrıyı yarattı. “Benim sözcük dağarcığım dışında bir şey kullanmana izin
vermiyorum”. Kendi suretinde tanrıyı yarattı.
“Seni ben yarattım ve kendi cennetimi de yaratabilirim”.
Hiçlik kuyusuna sessiz ve sözsüz haykırdı. “Cennetine sıçayım senin”.

[Ivan Hrvoić · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ve been told that the book is man’s struggle to stay alive. I came looking to see if I can find reasons for that struggle. There were no reasons, but survival instinct, primeval urge to stay alive. What I found was madness. And it was authentic one, described to the small details. Madness which comes out of loneliness. Every movement, feeling and thought is given for an experience from the first hand. I was asking myself what Golding decided to went through so he can write it that truthfully. You look through Martin’s mind and its decadence from healthy, assertive – normal personality. As the time passes he starts to lose grasp with reality and his mind along with his body is starting to burn like a fever. Thoughts can not be upheld anymore, consciousness begins to be chained by existence and his very being suffers so desolated in longing for salvation. For me, novel culminated with him, stripped of everything that he ones held about himself, crying the last scream of desperation: ‘’I’m so alone! I’m so alone!’’ and his mind bouncing restlessly between thoughts from reality to hallucination, like a drowning’s man last flinches.

I must admit, Golding won me with Lord of Flies and Pincher Martin. Like when you, without even slightly expecting it, fall for a girl because of some insignificantly small details, subtle enchanting melody in her ways with you and everything or some stupid smile which with time becomes irresistible. I don’t like Golding’s stories, or characters, or themes. But my mind kept coming back to associations made by them. After all we don’t really fall to other people because of them, but because how they make us feel. And Golding made me feel anxious. He provokes questions and his writing style is unusually colorful. I have no choice but to come back for more, I’ve heard that Darkness visible and Free Fall should not be missed

[Judy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Pincher Martin is the second book from 1956 about shipwreck on a deserted island. (Boon Island by Kenneth Roberts is the first.) Pincher Martin however, is alone on his rock in the mid-Atlantic and though he thinks of himself as a rational, educated and resourceful fellow, when faced with death he goes quite mad.

"Pincher" is British slang meaning a nautical person, one who serves on ships, etc. This pincher's Christian name was Christopher and as we enter his mind, we learn that he has been a greedy, self-centered man who liked to force people, including women, to give him what he wanted. Golding is a master at telling a story completely through the eyes of a character. His description of Martin's struggle in the freezing Atlantic waters and his gradual awareness of the surroundings when he comes to on the rock, is so grueling and realistic as to be almost unbearable. He causes it to play in your mind like a movie that includes actual physical feelings, smells, tastes, every sense experienced.

As in his two earlier novels, (Lord of the Flies and The Inheritors), Golding plumbs the human psyche for the hidden violent animal nature that is a part of everyone. Not a pretty picture, not a comfortable reading topic, but an unvarnished look at one aspect of humanity.

[Stuart · Rating 3 out of 5]

A harrowing tale of suffering, solitude, and madness of a stranded sailor in WWII
This was listed on David Pringle's Modern Fantasy: The Hundred Best Novels: in English Language Selection, 1946-1987, and to be honest I don't think the author or most readers would have put it on that list. While it certainly takes place in the mind of stranded British sailor in the Atlantic, whose boat has been torpedoed by a German sub, it's intense exploration of his inner mental world is both fantastic and terrifying, but it's still a stretch to call it fantasy. It is very much a serious work of Literature, by an author famous for The Lord of the Flies, and the writing if of that very sophisticated, descriptive, and deadly serious British style of that period.

While it is undeniably well written and visceral, it is a punishing read, fitting of course for the existential crisis of Christopher Martin (Pincher to his mates), stranded and exposed a small lonely rock outcrop in the middle of the Atlantic, far from help and totally alone and trapped in his increasingly deteriorating mind. As an experimental POV narrative, it is very well executed, but hardly an uplifting experience. More a work to admire than enjoy.

[Dina · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 rounded up. I'm glad that there were notes at the end to help me understand what I read. 😂

A man must reckon with his past when he washes up on a rock in the North Atlantic. It was confusing, but still very interesting. I recommend it if you enjoy psychological novels.

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ne riasszon vissza senkit e könyv szerény százaléka – ha valaki szereti a moralizálást és a fineszes szövegeket, akkor ez az ő könyve lehet. (Én például szeretem.) A kiindulási pont mintha A Legyek urát ismételné – a klasszikus hajótörés-jelenet, ami ugye a társadalomból való kizuhanás szimbólumaként is értelmezhető. (Golding amúgy is szereti a szimbólumokat.) Csak amíg ott egy egész kollektíva pottyan egy lakatlan szigetre, tehát módjuk nyílik új társadalmat építeni, addig Ripacs Martin tökegyedül vergődik ki a maga sziklazátonyára. Adja magát az összevetés Robinsonnal, minden hajótörés-regények koronahercegével is: Mr. Crusoe a maga magasztos protestáns etikájával rögtön nekiáll felépíteni a saját civilizációját, de olyan hitelesen, hogy még alsóbb néposztályt is szerez magának – ám Golding hősének erre esélye sincs. Egyfelől nyilván azért, mert a maga csoffadt sziklazátonyán maximum a barnamoszat-termesztés terén érhetne el kiugró sikereket, de ennél is fontosabb, hogy Martin nem hős, hanem bűnös, akinek nincs határozott erkölcsi kapaszkodója, ezért csak és kizárólag a túlélésre játszhat. És aki csak túlélésre játszik, az szükségképpen veszít végül, hacsak véletlenül nem örökéletű. Nem elhamarkodott a kijelentés, miszerint (a katolikus) Golding itt tulajdonképpen a Purgatórium metaforáját, sőt, ha a könyv utolsó mondatát nézzük: magát a Purgatóriumot mutatja be az olvasónak. Ami megmagyarázza ezt a helyenként lázálomszerű, nehezen feldolgozható mikrorealista textúrát is: Golding ugyanis ezzel kényszeríti bele az olvasót abba, hogy maga is megjárja a tisztítótüzet a főszereplővel, ő is ott heverjen vele a szélmarta sziklán, a teljes kilátástalanságban – közelről lássa Martint kínlódni, és közelről lássa közben bűneit is. Aztán döntse el, hogy meg tud-e neki bocsátani.

[Paul Taylor · Rating 2 out of 5]

Impenetrable on first reading. I have read much of Golding's work (he taught diffidently at my local grammar school) and am baffled as to why he enjoys such popularity. Literally succinct his stories range from the grotesque of Lord of the Flies, the recondite of Rites of Passage and the implausible of Pincher Martin. I hope the Inheritors enables me better to understand his "genius". I will let you know in due course but please, don't hold your breath.

[Caterina · Rating 3 out of 5]

PEŞİN AÇIKLAMA: VERDİĞİM 3YILDIZ YAZARA DEĞİL KENDİME.

Okuduğum Golding kitapları içinde en zorlandığım sanırım Ceberut Martin oldu. ilerleyen zamanlarda bir de İngilizcesinden sindire sindire okumam gerektiğini hissettim.

İlk okuma için notlarım şöyle: Bir deniz kazası geçiren Martin'in başına gelenler tefrika edilmiş. Fakat Martin'in düşünceleri ve anlatıda geçen karakterler bende Virginia Woolf'un Mrs. Dalloway'ini okuduktan sonra keşfettiğim yansıtma kişilikleri anımsattı. Bazı cümlelerde eserdeki diğer kişilerin aslında Martin'in diğer benlikleri olup olmadığını sorguladım. Yanılıyor da olabilirim fakat ikinci okuma sonrası burayı editlerken bu düşüncelere ihtiyacım olacağından yazmak istedim.

Eserin kapak tasarımını kim yaptıysa eline sağlık demek lazım. Istakoz ve Martin'in korkularından yola çıkılarak hazırlanmış nefis bir tasarım.

Okusanız seversiniz bence diyemem ama ilgilisini düşündürecek bir kitap olduğunu söyleyebilirim.

İlk okuma için eyyorlamam bu kadar.

[Derodidymus · Rating 3 out of 5]

cea mai plictisitoare carte ever
cu toate astea e pe raftul de cărți preferate în bibliotecă și nu mă pot despărți de ea
e așa de plictisitoare și de fascinantă totodată

[Mariele · Rating 1 out of 5]

It must have been about 20 years since I read "The Lord of the Flies". I was still a teenager, and it was one of my first books that I read in English. Even though I had to look up a lot of words, I remember how taken I was with that book. When I finished it, I thought "wow".
Much later, I read "The Inheritors", which bored me to death. I didn't know what Golding was talking about. It was a book about cave men, written from a cave man's perspective, including the (presumably) respective language. Most of the time, I didn't know what was going on, but I kept on reading, thinking, "this is a William Golding book, he is the one who gave us The Lord of the Flies , so this book, too, must be significant in some way." But it really wasn't. It was just incredibly dull. Whatever meaningful thematic layers that Golding wanted to point out about how every human being harbours both good and evil within themselves was bogged down by the tedium of the plot and the opacity of the language.

Now, my third Golding book confirms the impression I got from "The Inheritors". I had difficulty decoding the narration of a man losing his mind. What exactly does "the centre" refer to, or "the claws" - it puzzled me for quite some time. The sea and the waves? I was waiting for some textual hints; or well, perhaps they were there and I just wasn't paying enough attention at first, but my mind kept wandering off. After a while, I stopped bothering. Which is the point where I would normally give up the read. I finished this book only because it was short. But it did drag on.

Many other reviewers in this forum pointed out that "Pincher Martin" is a book that is almost impossible to breach when you read it the first time. So, yes, if I wanted more illumination, perhaps I should re-read it. Well, I certainly won't.

I didn't think that the plot twist at the end was sensational, either. I was surprised though when I found out was that I unintentionally read these three books in the succession they were published. So does that mean that Golding wrote his most important book early on in his career as a novelist, and then his books became successively and significantly worse?

[Joe Bruno · Rating 2 out of 5]

Listen, I skimmed great parts of this. I thought something was up and felt as if too much time spent would be wasted. Golding writes of a fashion not often seen lately, with vocabulary on full display and description of minutia and the like. It is a style that has fallen out of fashion I think. I persevered because I wanted to see what happened in the end and when the story got there I felt let down a little.

I don't know. Maybe I didn't give this its due. But I I was thinking it might end the way it did and was not too happy to have read an entire book to get to a twist that Ambrose Bierce was able to get to with a short story.

I will say that I have gone from the only person I know who has read 2 William Golding books to the only that has read 3. I had not planned to have read 3 except this was in an article about circadian novels, stories told in a single day. This was more like a single incident, as it ended up.

So far the only good Golding book I have read is "Lord of the Flies." I can't really recommend this. Go read "The Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge." It is much less of an time investment. I was able to find this at the library. If you have to read it, don't buy it.

[Amanda Bellino · Rating 2 out of 5]

I thought that this book was extremely difficult to comprehend. I would not recommend this book to a friend. William Golding lacks excitement and anticipation which made me lose focus as well as interest. Pincher Martin is about the death of a man named Christopher Martin. He is dead throughout the entire book but the audience doesn't find out until the very end. The whole story is essentially flashbacks throughout Martin's life leading up to him loosing his sanity. This book really empathizes Golding's theory– that when placed in extreme isolation and given the right circumstances, man will return to the innate barbarism that was instilled in him since birth.

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Golding was fascinated with miniature societies. This time the focus is on just one man on an island. The structure seems to parody genesis, with the voice of god coming down on the 7th day asking Pincher if he’s prepared to finally throw in the towel.


Spoiler.





Pincher dies on page 1. The book is meant to take place in purgatory. Non-believers, however, can see the whole thing as a tale told in death-time transcendence, taking place in Pincher’s brain as the lights go out.

[Lucian Vilcea · Rating 5 out of 5]

Utterly boring and intensely painful to follow. Endless descriptions and senseless timeline. Hard to focus and keep your mind from wandering. Until it hits you... then everything makes sense. I've read it one more time in the very same day. One of the best books I've ever read.

[Swarthout · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read this at a rough time. The book is concerned about morality primarily, with theological undertones, but could very much apply to disenchanted mental terrains as well.

[Bryan--The Bee’s Knees · Rating 3 out of 5]

William Golding is an author I've had mixed feelings about, probably based on too scanty evidence. I do think Lord of the Flies is a justified classic, but Rites of Passage seemed rather pedestrian, though I may have been expecting every book of his to rise to that earlier level. I've been interested in reading Pincher Martin for a long while, to see if something written close to the same time as Flies might share some of the same power. Now that I have, I'm not sure I know any more than I did before.

Pincher Martin follows the sole survivor of a boat torpedoed during WWII and his subsequent attempts to survive after being washed up on a solitary rock in the middle of the Atlantic. Golding's style here is less a naturalistic representation as it is a long imitation of pure sensory imagery, intermixed with the barely coherent thoughts of Martin, as well as snippets of memory. The idea, I think, is to draw a picture of someone who's every touchstone with reality as well as the social construction of his personality has been removed. What's left? Golding sharply divides his character's mind from his body, or his body from his mind, and pokes around at the remainders.

Does it work? Pincher Martin, for me, falls into that category of books where I just don't know. Barrabás by Pär Lagerkvist, Homo Faber by Max Frisch, and The Assignment: or, On the Observing of the Observer of the Observers by Friedrich Dürrenmatt are some of the others that fall into that same category. They leave me with the nagging feeling that I've missed something, yet there is still something appealing about them. Whether this thing I sense is lacking is in me or in the book, I don't know, and these kinds of books go onto my 'books-to-be-reread-someday, should-I-live-so-long' list. While not as immediately powerful as Lord of the Flies, I think Pincher Martin will be worthwhile to the right reader. I'm just not sure if that's me or not.

[Rob Manwaring · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just started this, and it's been on my to-read list for a while. I really like Golding as a writer, he's both uncannily clear and also quite elliptic in his writing. This has got off to a cracking, or perhaps crashing start...

Ok, weekend away in Melbourne and I finished this on the plane. I also upgraded this from a 4 to a 5 star rating. Just simply, brilliant. I forgot how much I really like Golding's writing. This was a remorseless, unceasing read, and of course with an extravagantly brilliant (bleak?) ending. The experience is both mesmerising and utterly stressful. It's a 'difficult' read in that it's meaning is not given up easily, and my edition had a smart and useful 'afterword' which added some useful explanation. Brilliant.