Monster Madness: Battling and Facing the Unknown in Beowulf and Lord of the Flies
The word “monsters” often brings to mind childhood fears that something ugly lurks under your bed, waiting for your feet to dangle over the side so it can pull you down. It reminds you of the time when you were so afraid of the dark that you had to quickly leave the room after turning off the lights just to reduce the chances of being devoured by that beast in your closet. How _____________ last night.
Monsters, of course, are also important literary devices and symbols that have been used to represent the unknown, the unexplained, and the truly creepy parts of our world. Deeply steeped in fantasy and myth, monster stories are often about dealing with a great fear, usually death. Such is the case with the Old English epic poem, Beowulf, which has more mythological beasts than an episode of HBO’s True Blood. You have dragons, sea monsters, a half-human descendant of Cain named Grendel, and his protective mother. JRR Tolkien, author of the equally fantastic Lord of the Rings trilogy, was a strong supporter of examining Beowulf’s use of fantasy and monsters, arguing in the famous “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics” lecture that such elements were a work of art and integral to the poem’s themes of mortality, bravery, and even religion.
Grendel is the biggest idiot in history, attacking King Hrothgar’s mead hall and eating his warriors for a late-night snack. This is your childhood’s worst nightmare come true: the monsters are not only real, but also break into where you sleep and eat you like a bag of chips. The fact that the attacks are taking place at night in the dark, desolate and eerie tribal regions of the Denmark/Sweden area only amplifies the fear that plagues King Hrothgar’s people. No wonder they’re all together in a giant mead hall.
Of course, such fear must be conquered. Enter Beowulf, a fearless warrior unfazed by the possibility of death, mother monsters, or overbearing mothers of his. Long story short, he kills them all victoriously, even though his last encounter with the dragon cost him his life, coming off as the singular hero who saved countless people. Hurrah!
But a certain fear is not so beatable. The fear of outside creatures or elements infiltrating a haven is also found in William Golding’s classic novel Lord of the Flies, in which a herd of British children wash up on a deserted tropical island and begin to establish a semi -society for them to survive. something like the Dane and Geat tribes represented in Beowulf. All the children are afraid of an imaginary beast somewhere on the island, offering it severed pig heads to appease it, as if it were a monster under a bed that could be satisfied with a teddy bear thrown under it so it doesn’t gobble you up. up. Talk about childhood nightmares. Of course, childhood fears play out in other events that baffle children, such as a lifeless skydiver gliding onto the island.
However, the fear that haunts them is not a Grendel-like creature that can be vanquished, it is something within the children. Simon, the only boy on the island who understands this fact, confirms his suspicions after having an amazing conversation with that severed pig’s head. Like Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven, in which a rather one-sided talk with a majestic bird causes the speaker to project his own fears and sorrows until he descends into madness, Simon’s talk with the pig’s head also reflects the inner demons and monsters that are at work within the human psyche. There are no dragons to slay, no battles to fight, and no chance for a Beowulf character to ride in and save the day. The epic poem focuses on the external and more manageable unknown, while Golding’s novel takes on the unknown and follows that inner fear. And that monster is something you can’t fight with a night light.
