How Does 'Il Signore Delle Mosche' End?

The ending of 'Il signore delle mosche' is brutal and unsettling. After descending into chaos, the boys split into factions, with Jack's group turning savage. Ralph, the last voice of reason, becomes their prey in a terrifying hunt. Just as Ralph is about to be killed, a naval officer arrives, shocked by the violence. The boys suddenly snap back to reality, crying as they realize what they've become. The officer's appearance shatters their savage world, but the irony is crushing—he's from a war-torn adult world just as barbaric. The ending leaves you questioning who the real 'beast' is.

Golding's masterpiece concludes with a devastating psychological collapse. The final chapters show the complete unraveling of societal norms among the stranded boys. Jack's tribe, painted and wild, burns the island to smoke out Ralph, their last obstacle. The fire symbolizes their lost humanity—ironically, it also attracts rescue.

When the naval officer lands, his crisp uniform contrasts starkly with the boys' filth. His disappointment in their behavior mirrors the novel's central theme: civilization is a thin veneer. The boys' sobbing isn't just relief—it's the shock of confronting their own capacity for evil. Golding leaves us with Ralph weeping for 'the darkness of man's heart,' a phrase that echoes long after reading.

The island's physical destruction parallels the boys' moral disintegration. Piggy's death and the conch's destruction earlier marked the point of no return. The officer's assumption they were 'playing games' adds bitter irony—their violence was all too real. This ending doesn't offer redemption, just a mirror held up to human nature.

As someone who's analyzed this novel multiple times, the ending still haunts me. The crescendo of violence peaks with Ralph fleeing through a burning jungle, literally and metaphorically surrounded by the hell the boys created. Jack's tribe uses sharpened sticks—primitive weapons reflecting their regression.

The naval officer's arrival should feel like salvation, but it's a gut punch. His presence exposes the absurdity of their war; grown-ups are engaged in global conflict while children reenact it microcosmically. Ralph's tears aren't just for their ordeal—they mourn the loss of innocence.

Golding's genius lies in the officer's reaction. His condescension ('British boys...') underscores the novel's warning: savagery isn't foreign—it's innate. The fire that nearly kills Ralph becomes their salvation, a paradoxical twist that seals the book's status as a timeless exploration of human nature.