The Call of the Wild: Adapted for Young Readers

Jack London's letters about the publication of "The Call of the Wild" reveal an all-too-common story that would make any author and most sympathetic readers cringe. In 1903, Jack London was hard up for cash and had just completed the manuscript. He sold the serial rights to the Saturday Evening Post for $700 and, since the editors were not all that keen on his first choice, suggested the title "The Sleeping Wolf." (Interestingly enough, the magazine version did not even include what has probably become the book's most famous scene: when John Thornton blusteringly makes a wager that Buck can pull a sled weighing half a ton.) Soon after, Macmillan agreed to take a chance on the unknown writer and offered to publish the book for $2,000, with no royalties. By this time, London had warmed to his initial title, "The Call of the Wild," but left the final choice up to his editor. Both the magazine and the book publisher reluctantly used London's now-famous title, and seven years later London wrote to his editor, reminding him of his tin ear: "I'll be damned if that very muchly-rejected title didn't become a phrase in the English language. This is only one of many experiences concerning titles, wherein editors, booksellers, and publishers absolutely missed." But it still boggles the mind that London earned a grand total of $2,700 for a book that quickly sold more than two million copies. And what a book! I must have read it three or four times as a youngster, but even now, over twenty years since I last picked it up, it still manages to electrify me. "The Call of the Wild" is often cited as the best work of fiction ever written about dogs, but the book is equally about men--and about London himself. As a puppy, Buck is like a human child--dependent on his benefactors and with few cares in the world. But soon he is wrenched from his first home, ending up in Alaska to perform the most menial tasks in appalling conditions for a series of contemptible owners--much like the impoverished London himself who, beginning at the age of 14, went from cannery employee to oyster pirate to jute mill laborer to vagrant to prisoner to laundry worker to would-be gold prospector. In such conditions, both dogs and humans resort to their most primitive, robotic instincts. "The Call of the Wild," however, is not only about descent into feral survivalism. It's also about the irrepressible yearning for independence and even solitude, and it shares a good deal, thematically, with London's social writings. If you tend to think that London's masterpiece is little more than a work of children's literature, you might want to visit it again and see how it works as an allegory. While it's certainly a great novel about dogs, it's also a perceptive statement on the human condition.

Jack London is amazing. Most writers use adjectives to describe a setting, but London's words ARE Alaska. They ARE the bitter struggles a domesticated dog must face in the snowy land. There's a scene in Call of the Wild in which the team of dogs must cover 3000 miles over the virgin terrain without rest. Jack London conveys the bone-tiredness of these dogs down to their heart. It's wonderful how his words bring the characters (I almost don't want to call them characters) fully to life.The story sounds like just a dog tale at first--a dog, Buck, is kidnapped from his comfortable life in California and sold as a sled dog for the Alaskan gold rush. While he endures the wilderness and the other dogs, Buck learns that survival comes only with tooth and fang. This lesson brings him very close to his forbears, the wolves.If you look deeper, Call of the Wild is as much a story of humans as it is a dog tale. Buck encounters various incompetent masters who try to break his spirit. Are we like this? But Buck also learns to trust a master who is gentle and gives love. We can be like this, too. Call of the Wild is not a story for the squeamish or very young. By involving us in the characters' lives, Jack London tells the truth. It is a life-and-death war between the harsh land and the soul every day. There is blood, death, cruelty--but it's the truth.

I have to admit that I have not really given Jack London his proper due up to now. Perhaps it is because I don't by my nature like outdoor adventure type stories, or perhaps it is because I associate White Fang and "To Build a Fire" with my youth. The fact is that Jack London is a tremendously talented writer. His understanding of the basics of life matches his great knowledge of the snow-enshrouded world of the upper latitudes. The Call of the Wild, despite its relative brevity and the fact that it is (at least on its surface) a dog's story, contains as much truth and reality of man's own struggles as that which can be sifted from the life's work of many another respected author. The story London tells is starkly real; as such, it is not pretty, and it is not elevating. As an animal lover, I found parts of this story heartbreaking: Buck's removal from the civilized Southland in which he reigned supreme among his animal kindred to the brutal cold and even more brutal machinations of hard, weathered men who literally beat him and whipped him full of lashes is supremely sad and bothersome. Even sadder are the stories of the dogs that fill the sled's traces around him. Poor good-spirited Curly never has a chance, while Dave's story is made the more unbearable by his brave, undying spirit. Even the harsh taskmaster Spitz has to be pitied, despite his harsh nature, for the reader knows full well that this harsh nature was forced upon him by man and his thirst for gold. Buck's travails are long and hard, but the nobility of his spirit makes of him a hero--this despite the fact that his primitive animal instincts and urges continually come to dominate him, pushing away the memory and reality of his younger, softer days among civilized man. Buck not only conquers all--the weather, the harshness of the men who harness his powers in turn, the other dogs and wolves he comes into contact with--he thrives. This isn't a story to read when you are depressed. London's writing is beautiful, poignant, and powerful, but it is also somber, sometimes morose, infinitely real, and at times gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.

I first read The Call of the Wild when I was 11, and it had a profound effect on me. I loved the story, the adventure, the romance of the wilderness, and the themes of hope and the struggle for survival in the wilds of Alaska.The book is mainly written for the young, but adults will find something refreshing, true to life, and escapist in the book. Set in the goldrush days of the late 1800s to early 1900s, it is the story of a stolen dog (Bucks') experiences in the Alaskan wilderness, and his struggle for survival and for dominance amongst the huskies and half-breeds of the sled dogs in the extremes of the northern wilderness. The story is harrowing, but ultimately delightful, encouraging young readers to imagine, to feel, and to be inspired to search for adventure and meaning. Another book by Jack London is White Fang, which is very similar, so those who like this book might consider reading this also.Recommended for those who like dogs and dog adventure stories, the Alaskan wilderness, the goldrush days, and those with a spirit of adventure-especially the young, but also the young in spirit.

The two rivals circle the ring, probing for any point of weakness. The duel has lasted longer than either competitor had anticipated. Weakened by fatigue, the challenger feints high and goes for a crippling blow. No, this is not a boxing title match in Las Vegas. This is a life-and-death struggle of one domestic dog for survival in the cold, icy, barren regions of the Alaskan plains. This is a clash between the civilized and the primordial. This is the conflict between domestication and liberation. This is the Call of the Wild.Jack London centers his story on a dog by the name of Buck. Buck is a big, strong dog, his father being a St. Bernard and his mother being a Scottish shepherd dog. At one hundred and forty pounds, Buck was no mere house pet. Kept physically strong with a love of rigorous swimming and constant outdoor exercise, Buck was a lean, formidable dog. Undoubtedly, his great condition was part of the reason that the gardener's helper dog-napped and sold him to dog traders, who in turn sold him to Canadian government mail couriers. The gold rush in Alaska had created a huge demand for good dogs, which eventually led to the "disappearances" of many dogs on the West Coast. Buck was no exception. He was sold into a hostile environment, which was unforgiving and harsh. Although civilization domesticated him from birth, Buck soon begins almost involuntarily to rediscover himself, revealing a "primordial urge", a natural instinct, which London refers to as the Call of the Wild.This book is set in the Klondike, a region in Alaska that was literally stormed by thousands of men looking to get rich quick via the gold rush. Transportation was increasingly important, but horses were near useless in winter, prone to slip and fall on snow and ice. Dogs were by far the best means of transportation in Alaska at the time, somewhere near the end of the 19th century. As the demand for dogs grew, the prices for good dogs skyrocketed. This price hike inevitably created a black-market- style selling of dogs, and the gardener's helper Manuel did what many men did; they sold the dogs for a good price.A recurring theme in London's novel is the clash between natural instinct and domesticated obedience. Soon after the dog traders captured Buck, a man broke him with a club. Buck is thoroughly humiliated, but learned an all-important truth of the wild: The law of club and fang. Kill or be killed. Survival is above all. Buck resolved to himself to give way to men with clubs. In the beginning, Buck had problems with this new restriction, but learned that when his masters' hands hold whips or clubs, he must concede. However, that did not keep Buck from doing little deeds like stealing a chunk of bacon behind his masters' backs. However, as London says, "He did not steal for joy of it, but because of the clamor of his stomach . In short, the things he did were done because it was easier to do them than n