The Call of the Wild

I read [b:The Call of the Wild|1852|The Call of the Wild|Jack London|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1452291694l/1852._SY75_.jpg|3252320] when I was quite young and remembered it by a general impression rather than any exact detail. The details are stunning, and prove to be evidence that London had experienced the cold, the isolation and the dogs first hand. It is a remarkably moving tale about the loyalty and wildness of the dog. Buck is so wonderfully described that he becomes real for you immediately. I cringed at the mistreatment and the overwork; marveled at the inexplicable trust and love he is still able to offer; and felt the echoing call that beacons to his ancient roots and his wild show more nature.

He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time. He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move.

At times this is not a pleasant book to read. The dogs are mistreated by man, and then they are also vicious to one another. It is realistic and it is survival of the determined and strong, but it is a sad part of the canine nature and one that might not exist in a kinder environment but is essential in Alaska during the gold rush.

Jack London understands nature, even her cruel side, and his works always make me feel I am in a wilderness full of majesty and beauty and perhaps one step away from losing my life. The argument can be made that this is where the canines belong and this is the life we have stolen from them by pulling them in to sleep by our fires. There is a freedom here that seems worth the price.

Buck was wildly glad. He knew he was at last answering the call, running by the side of his wood brother toward the place from where the call surely came. Old memories were coming upon him fast, and he was stirring to them as of old he stirred to the realities of which they were the shadows. He had done this thing before, somewhere in that other and dimly remembered world, and he was doing it again, now, running free in the open, the unpacked earth underfoot, the wide sky overhead. show less

Where to start with this book. *The Call of the Wild* may be meant to toughen young readers to the harshness of the real world, but I would never ask my child to read this "classic." I read *To Build a Fire* as a kid and found it disturbing and sad, but was still able to admit it was well-written and worth reading.

The animal abuse and tragedy in this book were way too much.

I mean, this should be re-titled *A Series of Unfortunate Events*, but that already exists. Just when you think we get some happiness, it's snatched away. Like, this dog deserves his person. Let him have his person. Damn.

Buck goes through owner after owner, enduring cruelty and hardship at nearly every turn. Yes, Jack London's prose is powerful and evocative. Yes, the show more themes about civilization versus wildness are interesting from a literary perspective. But the relentless suffering inflicted on Buck made this an emotionally exhausting read in all the wrong ways.

When Buck finally finds John Thornton—a kind, loving master who treats him with genuine affection—you think, "Finally! This poor dog gets something good!" But even that happiness is temporary and ends in tragedy. It felt less like a meditation on nature's call and more like torture for the sake of it.

I understand this is considered a classic, and I can appreciate London's skill as a writer, but I just couldn't get past the unrelenting bleakness. If you're sensitive to animal suffering, skip this one. Life's too short to read books that make you this sad. show less

A thrilling story about a dog named Buck, The Call of the Wild reads like a tale told by a gruff, wizened old frontiersman around a campfire. Written above all with the assured hand of a bona fide storyteller, it is possessing of beautiful prose and no small amount of pathos. It does what all great novellas/short novels do, which is feel much weightier than its page count would suggest. It manages to cover, in about 100 pages (depending on your edition), themes of love and loyalty, friendship and rivalry, law and order, the clash between the desire for solitude and for companionship and, most importantly, the boundaries between the civilized and the primordial.

In this latter respect it reminded me a bit of John Williams' later Western show more novel Butcher's Crossing, but in truth I recognised in London's turn-of-the-century novel evidence of his undoubted influence on American literature as a whole. London is an antecedent of Hemingway and, to a lesser extent, Steinbeck: two of my favourite writers, so this book was a real treat for me. Furthermore, I have always had a fascination with the Western genre (The Call of the Wild fits in this genre thematically if not geographically) and London's book epitomises everything I love about the American adventure novel. It is epic in its adventure, magical in its prose and thoughtful and profound in its message. You could submit the manuscript to the finest writers and editors and would not improve upon a single word. London makes you invest in this mere 'story about a dog'; The Call of the Wild will, by the end, win over even the most intractable sceptic. If all this sounds like hyperbole, then read it yourself (it is only short, after all) and then come back to tell me how wrong you were. show less

Trust, betrayal, loyalty and animal cruelty. A heart wrenching story about the life of dogs during the gold rush from an animal POV. I am not always a fan of such an approach but it worked well here. Highly engaging (worked well for an audiobook) but not black and white, as I could relate even to the most "evil" characters. I guess that's why it's a "classic" (mental note: "Read more classics"=).

I love adventure stories. When I was a child, I greedily devoured any book that involved wilderness, danger and action. Jack London's stories were some of my favorites. My dad bought me his books on the downlow, as my mother had in her mind that such stories were not "ladylike.'' My dad supported me in my love of adventure and supplied me with all sorts of unladylike tales -- Tarzan, The Jungle Book, Jack London, and all sorts of wonderful stories that carried me away to far off places. Very unladylike places.

Out of all of those wonderful stories, Call of the Wild was one of my favorites. It was the first story I read where an animal is a realistic main character, not a talking caricature in a children's story. Buck is a dog who gets show more stolen from his owner and sold as a sled dog. The changes he goes through....the transformation from pet to a wild animal is fascinating. Back then (and still today) I wanted to hop into the story and kick the butts of the abusive men who train the dog to be a working dog by whipping and clubbing him. The abuse of the animals in this story is realistic, but the horrible humans who mistreat their dogs seem to meet grisly fates in the Alaskan wilderness. Karma. I celebrated with Buck finally had a master he loved....and supported how he blended into the wilderness at the end. I always felt that ending was totally appropriate. He had morphed into a wild animal, not a pet, so he deserved his freedom in the end.

Jack London was definitely a man's man. He lived hard, worked hard, and died hard. He was the highest paid author of his day before he died at 40 in 1916 of an accidental morphine overdose. It has been suggested that the overdose might not have been accidental. He was very ill and dying from a mix of self abuse (alcoholism) and disease (several afflictions caught in the tropics that never went away), and might have decided to go the way of several of the characters in his story....OD on morphine and quietly slip away. I can see him wanting to leave on his own terms, in peace, at the house in California that he loved. But that's all just conjecture....we can never know if it was accidental or on purpose. I think it's wonderful that his stories are more than 100 years old now and still catch the attention of readers today.

I listened to an audiobook version of this classic novella. Narrated by Patrick Lawlor, the audio is almost 3.5 hours long. Lawlor reads at a steady, even pace with good inflection. I have hearing loss, but was able to easily hear and understand his narration.

Call of the Wild is one of 100 books chosen as part of The Great American Read. I can totally see how this classic about life in the Alaskan wilderness deserves a spot on the list. This is the 7th book on the list that I have read/re-read on my quest to read through the entire list.

Jack London wrote many short stories and novels and even some plays and poetry. His most famous novels are Call of the Wild, White Fang, The Sea-Wolf and Martin Eden. show less

When Buck is taken from his comfortable home, sold as a work dog, and sent to Alaska, his whole world changes. Brutality and hard work. Cold and crazy men. All of these forever change Buck's nature. As his instincts take over, can Buck continue to exist in the world that his various owners have brought him into?

I went into this book with no expectations and was blown away by the writing. London's prose is gorgeous and rich; I found myself relishing each sentence and the language he uses to perfection. I also was impressed that the novel is told from Buck's perspective but never comes to a point of anthropomorphization nor is it saccharine. The novel doesn't shy away from the brutality of the life of men who went in search of gold in show more Alaska and London never pulls punches when describing animal cruelty. But don't let the harshness frighten you away. There are also wonderful passages depicting the special bond that form between animals and their people. A short classic that pleasantly surprised me. show less

At just 27, Jack London wrote [The Call of the Wild], a story that relied heavily on his young adventure in the very Klondike where most of the story is set. The novel is often categorized as a juvenile or young adult book because it is written from the perspective of a dog and because London is always spare and simple with his prose. But the dark, violent nature of the book and the underlying allegory regarding the instinctive uncivilized nature of all life allows for a much deeper reading.

Buck, a St. Bernard and Scotch shepherd cross, is sold out from under his owner by a gardener to satisfy a gambling debt. Any memory of the dog’s mundane, pastoral is quickly beaten and whipped out of him. Sold into a life of brutal service as a show more sled dog during the Gold Rush days of the Klondike, Buck quickly becomes the lead dog in a team and begins to tap into his wild instincts. The balance between fearful obedience and instinctive, headstrong action begins to blur, until Buck is the master of his own survival. He eventually finds a human counterpart who respects and loves him as an equal, but the man is savagely killed by Yeehat Indians. When Buck avenges the man’s death, his transformation into a truly wild thing is complete.

Reading about Buck’s transformation, I was reminded of D.H. Lawrence’s famous line, “I have never seen a wild thing sorry for itself. A little bird will fall dead, frozen from a bough, without ever having felt sorry for itself.” London’s story of Buck examines the instinctive wild nature of things in all life, whether animal or human. How the call of the wild manifests itself, whether with bald brutality or with measured and necessary violence, has more to do with the underlying innate nature of the one answering the call.

Bottom Line: Whether for the sheer adventure or for the underlying examination of the instinctive wildness of life, a pleasing and thought-provoking read.

5 bones!!!!! show less