Rites of Passage by William Golding

Rites of Passage is written as though a journal by a young man, Edmund Talbot, embarking on a long journey by sea to take up a position as a civil servant in the southern hemisphere. The man writes to his Godfather, who has requested details about the journey, and who is clearly a major benefactor.

Our narrators tone is supercilious, and he has the annoying arrogance of youth - to such an extent that I wasn't sure for a while how old he was supposed to be. Talbot describes his fellow travellers, most of whom he clearly feels superior to, and his attempts to familiarise himself with the vessel of his lengthy journey. After a bout of seasickness at the start of the journey, Talbot prides himself on beginning to pick up some nautical terms. Desperate to meet the captain, as is befitting his station in life, Talbot seeks the captain out on deck, and is sent off with a flea in his ear and instructions to 'read the captains orders'. Talbot's faux pas is eclipsed by similar bumbling from a fellow passenger - the Reverend Colley.

Colley becomes the central subject in the drama on the sea, suffering from disdain and a general lack of faith from most of the crew and human cargo. These unwilling sheep are bolstered by the captain's loathing of the clergy, and what begins as a culture of dismissal become a breeding ground for bullying. Talbot, meanwhile, continues to assume superiority, and plots to have his wicked way with a woman who, he claims, makes a convincing show of piety. On getting his end away, and no longer desiring the prize, Talbot's attention is turned to scheming ways to bridle the lady in question with some other passenger. Talbot's attention is subsequently directed by Summers, one of the ships crew, to helping out Colley, who has taken to his bed after a night of drinking because he seems unable to bear the shame.

So it is that the final installments of the drama unfolds, with Colley unwilling to rise from his bed, Talbot offering comfort under duress, finding Colley's own journal and reading it in horror (it reads very much like Talbot's own journal) whilst Colley expires in this quarters. The captain, in a political move, decides to investigate the death and enlists Talbot's help. Talbot's momentary guilt about his own poor use of the parson is quickly explained away the following morning, and he destroys the journal and keeps secret the cause of Colley's shame that most of the crew know about, but few of the passengers.

As the first in a trilogy, this book guarantees that I won't read the other two. I found the tone unbearable, the class wars and the politics depressing, and with a collection of characters that are all, in some way, unpalatable, I confess that I did not get much pleasure from this read at all. The setting of the ship (close quarters, barely any privacy) and the claustrophobia of a long journey with many strangers are the highlights of the novel, but the dense prose and the English privileged classes vernacular were a significant turn-off.

Ruth Schiller - An Unlikely Introduction to Bookers

I had been reading Bookers for years without even realizing it. One often picks up a book which is stamped with a golden circle and "Winner of the 19xx/20xx  So-and-so prize". I hadn't really thought about it. A good book is a good book, with or without a stamp. My first Booker was probably Golding's Rites of Passage (1980) which I read sometime in the 80s (definitely time to read it again); then The God of Small Things (1997) around the time it was published; Heat and Dust (1975); Hotel Le Luc (1984), recommended and passed to me by my sister who has overflowing bookshelves with great treasures; and Life of Pi (2002) which I gave my eldest for a birthday gift quite a few years back.

I became aware of the Man Booker prize in the spring of 2010, about a year ago. My second son, who will be turning 16 next month, was deep into chemotherapy treatments – and I needed something good to read. He had been diagnosed with cancer late in October 2009 and after two initial chemo treatments, major surgery, more chemo and simultaneous radiation, he was reduced to a 90 pound weakling (43 kilos to be exact)– albeit with a radiant smile, his usual witty and delightful disposition and a soft, lustrous and truly beautiful bald head. It was a difficult time, but we managed. I really needed something good to read.

Lucky people have good book sources. Siblings (be they sisters with good taste, or professor of literature brother-in- laws) often have capacious bookshelves.  I asked said brother-in-law to bring me something good to read, and he did. The Glass House by Simon Mawer and Summertime by J.M. Coetzee (both shortlisted in 2009). Thus started my romance with Bookers.

It is hard to feel accomplished when one spends about half of one's time in the Pediatric Hemato-Oncology ward. So I decided that I would accomplish something purely for me:  I would read really good books, my own personal Booker challenge.


Matthew's Review - Rites of Passage - 1980

I fully confess to have only read Lord of the Flies by William Golding. Apparently he's written a bunch of novels that wallow in obscurity with contemporary readers. Luckily, he won the Booker Prize in 1980 for the first part of his "To the Ends of the Earth" trilogy, called Rites of Passage, which means I had the honour of reading it.

Edmund Talbot is a well-connected man of the upper class, who has been given a government job in Australia. On his long sea journey to this new career, he keeps a journal of what happens on the ship. He encounters sailors, officers, the brutish captain who harbours a hatred for another passenger, a parson. Talbot gets involved as a mediator when the parson gets ridiculously drunk and makes a fool of himself. However, that is not the full story in the slightest.

A common theme in my reviews of Bookers is the prevalence of the theme of class, and Rites of Passage is no exception. In fact, one important line of the book is that "class is the language of the British". This novel is steeped in concepts of class and where the boundaries are.

Talbot is sort of aristocratic, but lowers himself to patronize the common sailors in order to learn more about them. An officer, Summers, who is a corporate ladder climber takes advantage of this in order to further his career.

Many of the interactions between Talbot and Summers have a distinct subtext of who belongs to which class, who was born into it, and who fought to move up. This is by far the most interesting aspect of the novel.

The central plot, however, is not terribly captivating. At its core, Rites of Passage features a mystery of what happened to the parson. One doesn't realize that this is a mystery until Talbot finds the parson's journal, and the narrative shifts to the parson's point of view. At this point, we see the same events but from another perspective, highlighting everything Talbot has missed in his self-centred upper class way.

All of the novel is written in pseudo-nineteenth century language, without archaic spelling, thank heavens, but Golding makes it believable. What he doesn't do is make characters very believable. Most of the passengers on the ship get one or two scenes, and not developed in any meaningful way. Plot strands are picked up and left behind.

Golding may be critic-proof for Lord of the Flies, but Rites of Passage is not. This is a good book, but suffers from some glaring problems, such as a loose plot that doesn't get gel until the last ten pages. That's asking a lot of a reader. However, the concepts of class that Golding plays with has rich depth. I liked this, but I certainly didn't love it.

Laura's Review - Rites of Passage

Rites of Passage
William Golding
278 pages

When Edmund Talbot leaves England on a ship bound for Australia, he begins a journal dedicated to his godfather and patron. In it he records details of daily life and detailed descriptions of the passengers and crew (many of whom are quite interesting characters). He takes pride in learning maritime vocabulary; that is, once he has overcome extreme seasickness. As a member of the educated upper class he remains at arms' length from most of the passengers and views events with amusement and a certain detached superiority. His social interactions are limited primarily to Summers, an unusually well-spoken officer.

Also on board is a young parson, the Reverend James Colley. For reasons that go unexplained until the end of the book, The ship's captain despises the parson from the outset. Colley persists in currying the captain's favor, and also attempts to befriend Edmund. Edmund initially tries to support the parson, encouraging services to be held on ship. But he is ultimately repelled by Colley's over-eager attempts at friendship. Eventually the tension surrounding Colley reaches its climax, and when Edmund finds a journal written by Colley, the narrative point of view shifts. The voyage is recounted for the reader, pointing out details Edmund had missed, and highlighting Edmund's own role in the conflict.

I liked Golding's technique of telling this sea tale through the two journals. The strengths and foibles of both men were clearly portrayed, and the journals brought the voyage to life with vivid detail. Golding also offers a candid view of the English class structure, which is as present at sea as it is on land. In fact, there is an entire subculture on ship -- the crew and "the emigrants" -- that the reader is barely exposed to, since neither Edmund nor Reverend Colley would mix with them.

This book is the first of a trilogy which was made into a BBC dramatization, To the Ends of the Earth. The story in Rites of Passage was the best part of the dramatization for me, and even though it was familiar I still enjoyed reading this book. ( )

My original review can be found here.

1980 - Rites of Passage by William Golding

Rites of Passage is Book One of a trilogy that was made into a BBC serial called To The Ends of The Earth, and it won the Booker in 1980. It's a comi-tragic sea journey and a coming-of-age tale about Mr William Talbot, a young aristocrat on his way to Australia to take up a government position procured for him by his wealthy godfather.

En route, this rather naive, pompous and yet good-hearted young man learns a lot about the world and himself. As in Lord of the Flies, an isolated community tests the boundaries of civilised behaviour, and is found wanting. Mr Colley, an irritating and fawning parson is victimised and humiliated, subjected to barbaric rituals in the crossing-the-line ceremony, and then worse. When he wills himself to die of shame, Talbot is called on to help by Lieutenant Summers, a man who has worked his way up from the ranks - but in this decisive moment risks his career by demanding of Talbot (his superior in British class-ridden society) that he take some responsibility for what has happened.

All efforts fail, and Talbot finds himself compromised by Captain Anderson's 'enquiry'. Having boasted about his journal of events, Talbor has made Anderson aware of the need to cover up his own aggressive behaviour towards Colley - because it was that which made others on board feel that they could bully him with impunity. The enquiry is a whitewash and Talbot is left with no recourse but to lie to Colley's family about the truth.

The TV series went on with other events including the near loss of the ship in the Antarctic, boarding by another ship, a romance for Talbot and the death of the athiest Pettigrew. I'd like to read the sequels on which these are based if they're as good as this one was, deftly written in a C19th seafaring style and showing Talbot's painful self-growth towards maturity.
I finished reading and journalled this book on 23.2.2008.
Lisa Hill, ANZ LitLovers