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A review by kevin_shepherd
The Call of the Wild by Jack London
5.0
A word or two on animal cruelty: I almost departed early from this one. Jack London’s depiction of a sled dog’s life in the Canadian Yukon (circa 1890) is graphic and gut-wrenchingly brutal. Call of the Wild has no shortage of cruel, sadistic, heartless assholes. If you’re going to journey into London’s universe you should prepare yourself to be appalled .
Now that I’ve warned you about the darkness, we can attempt to cast a little light. Call of the Wild isn’t really about dogs—well, no more so than Watership Down is about rabbits or Animal Farm is about hogs. The gist and heart of this novel is to be found in its connotations.
There are several schools of thought on London’s subtext. One is that Call of the Wild is an exposition of “Christian virtues,” specifically work ethic and ‘sacred redemption.’ I call complete BS on that one. Too many of the so-called Christians here are wielding clubs and whips and dolling out concussions and cracked ribs. “Spare the rod and spoil the dog” is a liability, not a virtue.
It seems to me that that London’s anthropomorphic canines lean more Darwinian than Lutheran. Buck, our Saint Bernard-Shepherd mutt-hero, is in a near constant state of de-evolution. His reversion back to his wolf heritage is key to his survival. At one point he even dreams of an alliance with an arboreal “hairy man,” an obvious archetypal reference.
The cruelty and harsh exploitation of animals, something that personally sickens me, is key to Buck’s progression as a character. It wasn’t until I was able to reconcile that in my mind that I could begin to appreciate what Jack London penned here. This concluded better than it began and it was, in the end, well worth the price of admission. 5 stars.
Now that I’ve warned you about the darkness, we can attempt to cast a little light. Call of the Wild isn’t really about dogs—well, no more so than Watership Down is about rabbits or Animal Farm is about hogs. The gist and heart of this novel is to be found in its connotations.
There are several schools of thought on London’s subtext. One is that Call of the Wild is an exposition of “Christian virtues,” specifically work ethic and ‘sacred redemption.’ I call complete BS on that one. Too many of the so-called Christians here are wielding clubs and whips and dolling out concussions and cracked ribs. “Spare the rod and spoil the dog” is a liability, not a virtue.
It seems to me that that London’s anthropomorphic canines lean more Darwinian than Lutheran. Buck, our Saint Bernard-Shepherd mutt-hero, is in a near constant state of de-evolution. His reversion back to his wolf heritage is key to his survival. At one point he even dreams of an alliance with an arboreal “hairy man,” an obvious archetypal reference.
The cruelty and harsh exploitation of animals, something that personally sickens me, is key to Buck’s progression as a character. It wasn’t until I was able to reconcile that in my mind that I could begin to appreciate what Jack London penned here. This concluded better than it began and it was, in the end, well worth the price of admission. 5 stars.