Call of the Wild Book

I guess it's important to remember that this isn't just a socialist fable: it's also a book about a dog. That's certainly all I thought, when I was ten and I read and re-read this for the first several times. I just really liked dogs, and we couldn't have one, so I read a lot of books about them. Here's a book about Buck the Yukon sled dog. His bond with his human is so strong that they'll perform miracles for each other. That scene with the thousand pound sled is like the Rudy-sacks-the-quarterback of dog stories.

Now, as a grown up, I finally get to have my own dog, and he likes to point his ass right at my face. He's between us in bed at this very moment, his head buried down in the blankets, ass up. It's my wife, then my dog's butt, then me.

But socialism. After being about a dog, it's - actually the second thing is it's dark, holy shit. People are like here, kid, here's a book about a dog, kids love dogs, and ten-year-old me cracks it and it's all "He had killed man, the noblest game of all, and he had killed in the face of the law of club and fang. He sniffed the bodies curiously. They had died so easily." When they're not hunting the most dangerous game, dogs keep getting slashed open to the bone or starving piteously to death. Jack London spent some time grubbing for gold in the Yukon wilderness himself - and he was awful at it, so he knows from hardship.


Jack London

So the third thing is that London also happened to be a socialist, and as an adult it's hard not to read Call of the Wild as an allegory. You could hardly find a better socialist allegory than a team of sled dogs, right? Everyone harnessed together, running together to pull a mighty load. They grow to love it so much that when one dog gets sick he pulls a Boxer. Buck starts the book as a pampered bourgeois and finishes it as a pack animal.


Here's Blair Braverman, the face of modern dogsledding and quite a good tweeter.

London also brings in a healthy dose of naturalism, the then-fashionable (now obvious) idea that the environment shapes character. And there's a great deal of somewhat confused Darwinism: London, like lots of other people, has confused evolution for memory, so Buck keeps having dreams about Neanderthals. There's some yikesy stuff about women and minorities, not definitely offensive but you get the idea that if you got him going it'd be definite eventually. (I've heard that it was indeed.)

So you see why sometimes you have to remind yourself that this is a book about a dog. It's about a brave dog running in the wilderness. I remember how wild and romantic it seemed to me, when I read it as a child. Now I read it to my dog. Does it awaken, for him too, some wild and romantic memory? Does he hear the faint echoing of that primordial call? He sighs deeply, from under the covers, and farts.