A properly produced edition of short stories can make all the difference. It does with these Jack London stories first published in 1916. The selection and placement of each one creates an overall reading experience where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The title story, which is the first in collection is interesting enough as a stand alone piece. It's the story of two brothers, Frederick and Tom Travers. In late middle age, Frederick has everything, political, social, and economic success, along with a properly behaved daughter, a big house, and the sort of health that makes him expect to live another thirty years. Into his life arrives brother Tom, long estranged from Frederick, an adventurer who has traveled the world and has now come home to die, accompanied by his bright almost gypsy like daughter. While counting down towards the end, scores of people arrive at the Travers's house, all to visit with Tom. And they all come from his times in the South Seas, Australia, the Yukon and elsewhere. It's then that Frederick deep down begins realize what little he actually enjoys. Things, possessions, property, they don't mean as much as what you will to look back on at the end of life, along with who cares about you.
This story sets the stage for all that follows, each of which examines that initial thesis. Sedley Crayden, in "The Eternity of Forms," is an exemplar of Frederick Travers life taken to the extreme. He becomes a murderous madman whose scholarly life eventually leads him to spending the last two years of his life sitting in the same chair and never moving, haunted by the ghost of his missing brother. Next up is "Told in the Drooling Ward," where only a madhouse provides sufficient security for those who fear to search for adventure too far from home. With "The Hobo and the Fairy," London wants to demonstrate the power of redemption and the unrealized value of a life of experience. The hobo in this case encounters an eight year old girl. Her trust in him, a scraggly, dirty, transient, causes him to correct his path and take on a job that needs his prior experience as a cowboy. Frankly, there is a creepy feel to this story, too, as thoughts arise in the hobo's mind of how easy it would be for his strong hands to crush those of the fairy girl and her skull as well. Dark thoughts that London intentionally incorporates into the story. Why? Perhaps to illustrate the very thin dividing line over which redemption would have been impossible. Then there is "The Prodigal Father," in which Josiah Childs leaves for the West and California. He creates a fortune with only three pennies in his pocket. Eventually, guilt gets the better of him and he returns back East to see the son and wife whom he has provided for from afar. Getting home, Josiah is enraptured by the son he's never seen. But once his wife emerges, he remembers her nagging, piercing, complaints and the reasons he left her in the first place. Grabbing the boy, he heads for the hills once more. A life of adventure makes for betterment, no matter how much the haze of nostalgia may lay over the truth. The same trajectory continues in "The First Poet," which, of all things, is a short story about cavemen, and "the first poet" who upsets tradition among the tribe and learns a lesson in the dangers of standing out from the crowd. The last two stories, "Finis" and "The End of the Story," take place in the Yukon. Paired together, one illustrates the desperation to survive at all costs, while the last is a love story in the unique Jack London sort of way, which illustrates that love might mean not getting what you desire most but care about more than anything in the world.
Even among cozy settings and comfortable towns and cities, London takes his heroes to the edge of experience. Frankly, I enjoy his South Seas stories more than the ones in the Yukon. But the nature of people in both places is the same: do you want safety and security or experience and adventure. London always opted for the latter.