The silence of the forest was more oppressive than the heat, and at this hour of the day t

here was not even the whine of insects. Only when Jack himself roused a gaudy bird from a primitive nest of sticks was the silence shattered and echoes set ringing by a harsh cry that seemed to come out of the abyss of ages. Jack himself shrank at this cry with a hiss of indrawn breath, and for a minute became less a hunter than a furtive thing, ape-like among the tangle of trees. Then the trail, the frustration , claimed him again and he searched the ground avidly. By the trunk of a vast tree that grew pale flowers on its grey bark he checked, closed his eyes, and once more drew in the warm air; and this time his breath came short, there was even a passing pallor in his face, and then the surge of bolls again. He passed like a shadow under the darkness of the tree and crouched, looking down at the trodden ground at his; feet. Questions:

This excerpt is from lard of the Flies (1954). Who is the author？ Make a brief introduction to the novel.