The Conch Shell

Before winter break began, I started the novel Lord of the Flies with my students. One of the main components of the book is its strong symbolism, so it’s important for me to clue the students in on the symbolism early on so that they can look for it and understand it in later chapters. The first chief symbol is the conch shell, which represents power and leadership. I wanted to see if my students could determine this after compiling a list of the descriptions of the conch shell when it was first introduced. Alas, the list they assembled sent them into a fit of giggles:

“worthy plaything
dripping
no longer a thing seen but not to be touched
deep cream
fading pink
little hole
pink lips
slight spiral twist
delicate
tube”

The kids found it amusing because if you let your dirty mind wander, you could construe those phrases as descriptions of a penis (tehehe!) rather than the conch shell. I chastised them, first for acting like typical freshmen, then for assembling a list of penis-like characteristics that leaves off the description “eighteen inches.” (Yeah, I really did that, as inappropriate as it was.)

While the dick jokes were all good and fun, I needed to make sure that we got what the conch shell really represented. Just five pages into the novel, my students already thought the characters were gay because some of them strip naked to adjust to the island’s intense heat, so it was important for me to get them thinking about more important issues. I read aloud, hoping to share passages that demonstrated leadership/power rather than cock. Alas, I ultimately kept digging myself into increasingly deeper holes. I’ve read this book five times previously and have never once made a conch shell/penis connection, but now I’m astonished I never saw it before. It’s everywhere. As much as I tried to read the pages aloud with a straight face, once I had this notion in my mind, I was stifling laughter, inappropriately laughing so much I was tearing up. Honestly, the conch shell scene reads a little too much like a little boy gay orgy to ignore. Read the following passages as pornographic literature rather than the classic variety, and I think you’ll be equally surprised.

Ralph used one hand as a fulcrum and pressed down with the other till the shell rose, dripping, and Piggy could make a grab.
Now the shell was no longer a thing seen but not to be touched, Ralph too became excited.

Piggy paused for breath and stroked the glistening thing that lay in Ralph’s hands…
“They’ll come when they hear us--”
He beamed at Ralph.
Ralph pushed back his fair hair.
“He kind of spat,” said Piggy. “My auntie wouldn’t let me blow on account of my asthma. He said you blew from down here.”
Doubtfully, Ralph laid the small end of the shell against his mouth and blew. There came a rushing sound from its mouth but nothing more. Ralph wiped the salt water off his lips and tried again, but the shell remained silent.
“He kind of spat.”
Ralph pursed his lips and squirted air into the shell… This amused both boys so much that Ralph went on squirting for some minutes, between bouts of laughter.

He laid the conch against his lips, took a deep breath, and blew once more… a strident blare more penetrating than before. Piggy was shouting something, his face pleased, his glasses flashing.

The conch was silent, a gleaming tusk; Ralph’s face was dark with breathlessness.

Ralph found his breath and blew a series of short blasts.
Piggy exclaimed: “There’s one!”
He was a boy of perhaps six years, sturdy and fair, his clothes torn, his face covered with a sticky mess of fruit. His trousers had been lowered for an obvious purpose and had only been pulled back halfway. He jumped off the palm terrace into the sand and his trousers fell about his ankles; he stepped out of them and trotted to the platform. Piggy helped him up. Meanwhile Ralph continued to blow till voices shouted in the forest. The small boy squatted in front of Ralph, looking up brightly and vertically. As he received the reassurance of something purposeful being done he began to look satisfied, and his only clean digit, a pink thumb, slid into his mouth.

Piggy muttered the name to himself and then shouted it to Ralph, who was not interested because he was still blowing. His face was dark with the violent pleasure of making this stupendous noise, and his heart was making the stretched shirt shake.

They had been gorging fruit in the forest… More and more of them came. Taking their cue from the innocent Johnny, they sat down on the fallen palm trunks and waited. Ralph continued to blow short, penetrating blasts… The children gave him the same simple obedience that they had given to the men with megaphones. Some were naked and carrying their clothes; others half-naked.

Even while he blew, Ralph noticed the last pair of bodies that reached the platform… The two boys, bullet-headed and with hair like tow, flung themselves down and lay grinning and panting at Ralph like dogs. They were twins, and the eye was shocked and incredulous at such cheery duplication. They breathed together, they grinned together, they were chunky and vital. They raised wet lips at Ralph, for they seemed provided with not quite enough skin, so that their profiles were blurred and their mouths pulled open. Piggy bent his flashing glasses to them and could be heard between the blasts, repeating their names… At last Ralph ceased to blow and sat there, the conch trailing from one hand, his head bowed on his knees.

I was in such fits of hysterics, I had to finally concede the penis relation. On the spot, I tried to explain the significance of a phallic object. I swear, “phallic” is the first vocabulary word some of my students were genuinely interested in learning – several of them even took notes! I made the point that it would make sense that the object that represents power would also be phallic, since these were young boys that would likely equate power and manhood. As much as I’d like to think they’ll see the correlation and accurately understand the symbol in the future, I anticipate a wealth of penis jokes to come, errrr, in the future.

By the way, there is no way I’m not getting fired for this soon. I blame William Golding: what a pervert!