I purchased and read separate books, but I'll write one summary here.
Jack London was another one of those great writers who died too young, at only age 40. Born John Griffith Chaney, writer of Call of the Wild, White Fang and The Sea Wolf and numerous other works. He was burdened by illnesses and disease, and like Ernest Hemingway, some suspected he committed suicide because he was taking heavy dozes of morphine for his pain and he, like Hemingway, was a heavy drinker, so an accidental or deliberate overdose leaves the world with something to gossip about, controversy and dark. On the brighter side, this man who lived such a short life like many of the great writers of my childhood think tank created one masterpiece after another that not only survived time-tested history for my birth some 37 years after his death but still to this very day nearly 100 years after his death.
Another one of my childhood storyteller favorites whom I re-read as an adult…in the days when morality, good behavior and character were told by the storytellers who fascinated us with tales of good verses evil. Courage, bravery, wit, survival, were taught by examples, the author in a godlike fashion would create the characters to play the role of the messenger, without overbearing or boring preaching. Where writing was showing, not telling and reading was a stimulant to the mind’s imagination. You could place yourself in the remote wilderness of Alaska north country--or the Canadian North for White Fang. Johnny Horton might be singing one of his songs in the back ground, “North to Alaska,”… Songs I still use today to exercise with and like a drunken closet drinker, using my headphones so the modern world don’t hear my excursions to the imaginary world of yesterday that I visit--or re-visit--that also helps shape my characters and fortify my own writing without a hint of plagiarism or unethical encroachment on the masters of creativity’s masterpieces.
Reading as a child, especially the works of the masters like Jack London, was instrumental in my desire to be a writer. Write what you read and read what you write. They hang stars in the sky so you can gaze at them, and they untie them so they can fall and you can admire the beauty of even a falling star. Life, like death, has no bounds. Destiny is what it is. We can only take the journey and hope the cards and the stars fall in our favor. Books like White Fang, the Call of the Wild, Christmas Horse, Shane, The Little Red Pony, The Wizard of Oz, Alice In The Wonderland, Lassie, Black Beauty, My Friend Flicka, and hundreds more, stimulate the child’s and adult’s mind alike to dare to go on that journey in the remote wilderness like Alaska or Canada and find the story of your life… Good books, or should I say, good reads, don’t always have to be door stopping War & Peace. In fact some of the very best books on my home library bookshelves are less than 200 pages long and classics from the day they were printed, some even before I was born. A good story is just that. It has no secret ingredient to the length or the demand. Only the market will dictate a good story and novels like Jack London’s White Fang and Call of the Wild are timeless and priceless to those who pay attention to what they are reading.
London was a pioneer in many things, in writing and in animal rights advocacy and drawing attention to unnecessary cruelty to animals. And all animals lovers ought to love him for that. Cover jackets of Call of the Wild show the traditional Husky, but Buck wasn’t Husky, or wolf or even a Northern dog, he was a Californian domesticated Saint Bernard-Scotch-Collie. A Scotch-Collie or just simply Collie is what Lassie was, hardly a sled dog. Shepherd, as in sheep dog shepherding the sheep is what kind of dog Buck was with the other half being Saint Bernard. I had a Saint Bernard named Brady, a large dog, strong as an ox and winter’s cold weather is where they perform their best. But Buck was abducted and like White Fang, forced into cruel existences by their brutal masters who made them fight other dogs for survival. London put something else in these two books, White Fang and The Call of the Wild, something almost subliminal--tyranny and suppression. Only he used animals instead of humans to demonstrate those evils. Both books are set during the Alaskan Gold Rush. Both dogs, Buck in the Call of the Wild and White Fang, the book’s namesake, a wild wolfdog, were victors in some vicious dog fights, torturous journeys and blessed in survival by near death and triumphed to the ultimate freedom and independence by the time the stories ended. How many humans had traced a similar life--shadowed the same fate--from the dark corners of this world to liberty?
All of London’s works are good reads. London was a master at what he did, told stories as a brilliant storyteller. Most of the books I review I leave 5 stars because before I open a book or purchase one I thoroughly research the book and I already know it is a good one before I spend the time with it. London’s novels, if one pays attention to the subliminal detail, are superior reads considering they were written more than a century ago and the reality of those stories live on today, unfortunately, in the lives and deaths of humans and animals.