A powerful satire on the frailties of pride and the complexities of religion as a project to build a monumental Catherdral turns into chaos when ego and ambition dominate. Funny in parts, this novel remains a pointed, angry, unforgiving book on the whole. Strangely, this is exactly what makes it one of Golding best. Powerful.

The Spire is an atmospheric, troubling tale of obsession and hubris. Dean Jocelin believes that he has a divine mission, that God has chosen him to oversee the building of an enormous spire on his cathedral. The rest of the monks consider Jocelin’s project to be a work of folly and disruption to their prayer and quiet contemplation, while his chief mason argues that the cathedral’s lack of foundations will lead to disaster if the spire is built to Jocelin’s exacting specifications. Despite all this, Jocelin will not be dissuaded from his grand project and, as the spire rises, a shadow falls upon his sanity and upon the lives of all those associated with the build. The Spire is the dark and compelling portrait of Jocelin’s will and of the folly of pursuing glory above good sense. It’s a moody, troubling read that lacks in heroics and hope but it’s an absolutely engrossing book and yet another classic work of literature from William Golding.

I was excited to read 'The Spire' by William Golding as I thought that 'Lord of the Flies' - published ten years earlier - was absolutely brilliant. Others have also described this as Golding's best book. I beg to differ. For me, whereas 'Flies' was riveting, this was easily discarded. I found the prose beautiful at times (as you would hope and expect from Golding) but, for the most part, opaque and quite impenetrable. If the spire was incomplete at the end of the book, I too felt far from fulfilled. My criticism may be slightly unfair though. As a child I attended the local Anglican church in our village. It was a nice part of my life but it didn't really mean anything. In contrast, at an early age I discovered a faith that means everything to me and, without which, I would be lost. I don't know if God is a 'he' or a 'she'; a Christian, Buddhist, Hindu or Muslim. It simply doesn't matter to me as they are just labels used by men. In my mid-twenties a personal tragedy led me to convert to Catholicism in the hope that I might find more meaning from the earthly form. It wasn't an unpleasant experience but the man-made church was just the same. I'm afraid I saw Jocelin in the same way as the priests I encountered: arrogant, self-serving and consumed by a corrosive lust. I didn't once believe that he believed he was carrying out God's work. The greatest irony is, of course, that he wasn't 'chosen' rather benefitting from his Aunt's sexual favours - about as far removed from a 'higher calling' as you can get. Indeed, his own unrequited lust was totally what I would have expected and I found glimpses of the red-headed Goody rather boring, in the same way as I wasn't surprised that he saw Rachel as somehow less worthy. He is not a holy man, he is a weak man in the same way as the wonderfully named builder, Roger Mason, is weak, adding drunkenness to adultery. I had long stopped caring about the outcome when madness crept up on Jocelin, but it was a relief when the tedious descent ended. The foundations of the church may not have supported the new spire and maybe there is some kind of allegory here in that surely the man-made church cannot continue to masquerade as a force for the general good, no matter how high in the sky it first appears to be. Had it not been for the book being chosen by our local Book Club I would probably not have read it. While I find so many books thought-provoking and questioning, I found this merely a confirmation of what I already believed to be true.

I persevered with it, however it was one of the worse reads I have endured.