The Call of the Wild

ISBN: 0618003738
ISBN 13: 9780618003730
By: Jack London

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About this book

Buck, a sturdy crossbreed canine (half St. Bernard, half Shepard), is a dog born to luxury and raised in a sheltered Californian home. But then he is kidnapped and sold to be a sled dog in the harsh and frozen Yukon Territory. Passed from master to master, Buck embarks on an extraordinary journey, proving his unbreakable spirit...First published in 1903, "The Call of the Wild" is regarded as Jack London's masterpiece. Based on London's experiences as a gold prospector in the Canadian wilderness and his ideas about nature and the struggle for existence, "The Call of the Wild" is a tale about unbreakable spirit and the fight for survival in the frozen Alaskan Klondike.

Reader's Thoughts


This is a book I just completed with my remedial English class for high school juniors and seniors. I have read this book, oh, perhaps a dozen times and never tire of it. This particular version is a thrift version, only 65 pages, but the language is the same, no simplified language which would destroy the effect of the book; some of the text has been deleted which the "thrift committee" (is there such a thing?) decided is not critical to the story line. Of course I prefer the full length book but, after all, this is a remedial class for students who prefer to run from books and [maybe] ask questions later.One student told me, "I hate Call of the Wild,"Me: WHAT!?Student: I hate it.Me: Well off to the Guillotine with ya!What's not to like about London's Call of the Wild? It's a dog story which attracts readers of all ages, it is beautifully written thus attracting the literary crowd, and it is festooned with references to human & canine origins therein drawing from history/anthropology enthusiasts. Fact is, Call of the Wild is perhaps my FAVORITE book of all time. It is really the story of US. At least about US since the Agricultural Revolution (AR) some 10,000 years ago. The human-canine relationship is primordial having its orgin at the onset of the AR or somewhat beforehand. The instinctual feelings that Buck experiences - delivered to us via the brillance of London's evocative pen - are shadows of ancient events & reactions that we/us/people can relate to, for we also undergo them on extended stays in the wilderness. Further, the bond that develops between Jim Thorton and Buck is one to be appreciated and showcased as it is the best of who and what we are. Three Rs: Thorton provides RELIEF to Buck out of mercy, both Thorton and Buck experience RENEWAL through their mutual care-taking, and both develop and refine the best of who they are through their RELATIONSHIP. Relief, renewal, and relationship - Call of the Wild is trully a TIMELESS tale - and one that we ought read at various times in our life cycle.If I could give this book 6 stars, I would.


** spoiler alert ** I am such an animal hugger, and many people love this book. From my perspective though, it is shakespeare with puppies. No offence to those shakespeare lovers. All of the dogs die and there is no happy ending. Half of the book also consists of words that mean something very simple, but are confusing and long and sound smart. I thought the book was boring, and It made me sad to hear about the dogs treatment. I give this book 2 stars.


I don’t like fictional books about animals.Animal behavior? Sure. But not anthropomorphic dog thoughts. Hell, I’d rather watch a full day of the Dog Whisperer than read this shit again.That is, of course, not to say the book is without merit. It is a classic, after all. It has withstood the test of a little bit of time. Almost no time at all in the grand scheme of things. Barely a moment if you really think about it.But the writing is certainly capable. It is there. There are words and they are placed in close proximity to other words and those arrangements make sense. That is good. It is unfortunate that those words concern the thoughts of a dog, which gives the book more in common with the script for Babe: Pig in the City than anything of real literary value, like, say, The Da Vinci Code. As far as nature writing is concerned, this is not my cup of tea. I don’t need setting or characters to understand the basic thesis: humans have tamed dogs, but they are still animals. Should that have a spoiler alert attached to it? Shit, I could rewrite the whole book! Ready? GO!“Humans have tamed dogs, but they are still animals,” the dog thought.“Hmm. Why am I thinking in English?” the dog wondered silently to himself.“I am going to find a way under that ice,” the dog decided resolutely. “So that I might drown myself in the river.”And the dog went to do that.

Ben Winch

I defy anyone - man, woman or child - not to like The Call of the Wild. It's the most exciting adventure, the most moving love story, the deepest meditation on a creature and its place in nature. If you aren't cheering for Buck the dog by the end of this you're either hard-hearted or a cat-lover.


** spoiler alert ** Buck did not read the newspapers...of course he didn't. he was too busy being a badass. chasing down a big ass moose. saving john thornton's life. killing the indians who killed john thornton. running with the other wolves. winning bets. bitch slapping other dogs who got out of line. buck's first snow experience..."At the first step upon the cold surface, Buck's feet sank into a white mushy something very like mud. He sprang back with a snort. More of this white stuff was falling through the air. He shook himself, but more of it fell upon him. He sniffed it curiously, then licked some up on his tongue. It bit like fire, and the next instant was gone. This puzzled him He tried it again, with the same result. The onlookers laughed uproariously, and he felt ashamed, he knew not why, for it was his first snow."buck's first theft..."This first theft marked Buck as fit to survive in the hostile Northland enviroment. It marked his adaptability, his capacity to adjust himself to changing conditions, the lack of which would have meant swift and terrible death. It marked further decay or going to pieces of his moral nature, a vain thing and a handicap in the ruthless struggle for existence. It was all well enough in the Southland, under the law of love and fellowship, to respect the private property and personal feeling; but in the Northland, under the law of club and fang, who so took such things into account was a fool, and in so far as he observed them he would fail to prosper."just before buck's first kill..."All that stirring of old instincts which at stated periods drives men out from the sounding cities to forest and plain to kill things by chemically propelled leaden pellets, the blood lust, the joy to kill - all this way Buck's, only it was infinitely more intimate. He was ranging at the head of the pack, running the wild thing down, the living meat, to kill with his own teeth and wash his muzzle to the eyes in warm blood."after winning a bet for his best bud john thornton..."'Gad, sir! Gad sir!' spluttered the Skookum Beach king. 'I'll give a thousand for him, sir, a thousand, sir - twelve hundred, sir.' Thornton rose to his feet. His eyes were wet. The tears were streaming frankly down his cheeks. 'Sir,' he said to the Skookum Beach king, 'no sir. You can go to hell, sir. It's the best I can do for you, sir.'as the man who recommended the book to me would say, "yee-haw." this book fucking rocked.'vaya con los lobos!'


Invalid reasons for not reading this:1.) Hundred-year-old-books are written in an inaccessible style.---The Call of the Wild has very accessible style, with beautiful prose and imagery---beautiful prose and imagery that's light and very accessible.2.) I don't like dog stories.---This is a Buck story. Sure, he's a dog, but this isn't a dog story. It's Buck's story. And he's a complex, sympathetic character. He just happens to be a dog.3.) What do I care about the Klondike gold rush?---Don't matter. The story's about Buck, I said. The gold rush is just the outline, background.4.) Dog stories always end with the dog dying. And no, thank you, dammit. I'm still getting over Old Yeller and Where the Red Fern Grows, and I read those almost thirty years ago.---Spoiler alert: the dog doesn't die.I've spent the last day kicking myself for never having read Jack London before. Especially for not having read this until this point in my life. Go, Buck!

Moses Kilolo

Bucks story is a beautiful, multilayered tale that shows the basic plot of the journey towards the call of destiny. There is what we are all meant to be, and if we but hear the call, then our duty is but to obey. Like happened to Buck, the dog, there is ever a process, ranging from our familiar comforts to our deepest defeats, to our highest achievements – all of which we must transcended in our journey to being free and self accomplished. Though Buck was comfortable in the Judge’s backyard, playing with the judge’s sons, his world was crushed when he is sold off. From thence begins his journey – where he learns what he is, what can be, the possibilities, - of survival.The voice comes, but challenges prevent him from heeding it. First his position as a sledge dog, then the hardship of training, the preliminary victories, the love of man - - found, and lost) and his own doubts. But finally he lets go, and now Buck is head of the pack of wolves, and his exploits are well known. Just as the depth of his own freedom, and the found power.The writing is good, the book is short, and the lesson profound. --> the story of every man, hear the voice – obey the call, and be everything you can be.

Jan Rice

This should have been on the "read-in-my-youth" shelf but actually read in the early 2000s before I began keeping lists, let's guestimate 2003. I had the audiobook and listened during the commute. Judging from tidbits I picked up from The Great Gatsby, when The Call of the Wild was written, there would have been just the American East (sophisticated? decadent?) and the West, that is, before our current situation of the two coasts and the "fly-over zone" (vs. the heartland--take your pick); the book's setting is the rough-around-the-edges West. It is just a great story, as exciting and involving as a Harry Potter story is in our current times, with a great, idyllic, ending--not very realistic, maybe, but, oh, so satisfying nevertheless.


A poignant and triumphant tale of a great creature in the wild. He feels the bitterness and savagery of men and his pack, there has been a dividing line in his relations with humans by no fault but their own due to their constant usage of this canine Buck in work, in pulling in the snow, they have not shown any kindness, but there is hope he will soon be blessed with some.One man shows a kindness that helps Buck, who has had a life of toil and enduring of hardships, its a warming to the heart to see man and animal bonded in humility and kindness.Humans can be cruel and unkind to each other, and many guilty of worser crimes to animals in the wild and those under their control as a pet, they are more vulnerable and have no voice.Jack London here has given them a voice in this story and White Fang.He has successfully placed us in their point of view, in the shoes of the main protagonist Buck. An inspiring story that will continue to last through time.Jack London is another author that I recently hold high up there in the sphere of great writers, he writes with great insight into the world, the behaviours, the human condition and here the animal dilemma.I read this story way too late in my life, I only wished that I learned of these great stories of his when i was in my youth. This story has revived for me the importance of justice and kindness to the animal kingdom and the freedom to an animal of the wild.Joe Lansdale an author, I have praised many times due to his similar storytelling of great human stories and wonderful character creations, recommends this author and has said in an interview that Jack London had inspired him in his youth as a writer and I can now see why.If all this is not enough reason to read this or to remind one of its greatness, then read what the author E. L. Doctorow said in his preface of this story..."Man and dog are here together put back into prehistory, one of the moments of metaphorical abutment in which the book abounds. The law of the club and the law of the fang are one and the same, which is to say that in this primeval life of nature man and dog are morally indistinguishable-the call of the wild calls us all. We are dealing in this instance with not a literal dog but a mythopoetic thesis.It is perhaps his fatherless life of bitter self-reliance in late-nineteenth-century America that he transmutes here-though this is not the way it does us any good to read it. It seems more relevantly his mordant parable of the thinness of civilisation, the brutality ready to spring up through our institutions, the failure of the human race to evolve truly from its primeval beginnings. It derives from Jack London's Marxism the idea of the material control of our natures, and from his Darwinism the convictions that life triumphant belongs to the most fit. This is not a sweet idea for a book, it is rather the kind of concept to justify tyrannies and the need of repressive social institutions to keep people from tearing themselves to bits. But London's Nietzchean superdog has our admiration, if the truth be told. For as grim as its implications are, the tale never forgets its sources as a magazine frontier romance. It leaves us with satisfaction as its outcome, a story well and truly told. It is Jack London's hack genius that makes us cheer for his Buck and want to lope with him in happy, savage honor back to the wild, running and howling with the pack."Now for some great paragraphs from this story. “Bucks first day on the Dyea beach was like a nightmare. Every hour was filled with shock and surprise. He had been suddenly jerked from the heart of civilisation and flung into the heart of things primordial. No lazy, sun-kissed life was this, with nothing to do but loaf and be bored. Here was neither peace, nor rest, nor a moment’s safety. All was confusion and action, and every moment life and limb was in peril. There was imperative need to be constantly alert; for these dogs and men were not town dogs and men. They were savages, all of them, who knew no law but the law of club and fang.”“And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations feel from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down. It was no task for him to learn to fight with cut and slash and the quick wolf snap. In this manner had fought forgotten ancestors. They quickened the old life within him, and the old tricks which they had stamped into the heredity of the breed were his tricks. They came to him without effort or discovery, as though they had been his always. And when, on the still, cold nights, he pointed his nose at the star and howled long and wolf like, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. And his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe and what to them was the meaning of the stillness, and the cold, and dark. Thus, as token of what a puppet thing life is, the ancient song surged through him and he came into his own again; and he came because men had found a yellow metal in the North…”“The dominant primordial beast was strong in Buck, and under the fierce conditions of the trial life it grew and grew. Yet it was a secret growth. His newborn cunning gave him poise and control. He was too busy adjusting himself to the new life to feel at ease, and not only did he not pick fights, but he avoided them whenever possible. A certain deliberateness characterized his attitude. He was not prone to rashness and precipitate action; and in the bitter hatred between him and Spitz he betrayed no impatience, shunned all offensive acts.”“All that stirring of old instincts which at stated periods drives men out from the surrounding cities to forest and plain to kill things by chemically propelled leaden pellets, the blood lust, the joy to kill-all this was Buck’s, only it was infinitely more intimate. He was ranging at the head of the pack, running the wild thing down, the living meat, to kill with his own teeth and wash his muzzle to the eyes in warm blood. There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the solider, war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight. 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.”“It was beautiful spring weather, but neither dogs nor humans were aware of it. Each day rose earlier and set later. It was dawn by three in the morning, and twilight lingered till nine at night. The whole long day was a blaze of sunshine. The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life. This murmur arose from al the land, fraught with the joy of living. It came from the things that lived and moved again, things which had been as dead and which had not moved during the long months of frost. The sap was rising in the pines. The willows and aspens were bursting out in young buds. Shrubs and vines were putting on fresh garbs of green. Crickets sang in the nights, and in the days all manner of creeping, crawling things rusted forth into the sun. Partridges and woodpeckers were booming and knocking in the forest. Squirrels were chattering, birds singing, and overhead honked the wild fowl driving up from the south in cunning wedges that split the air.”“This man had saved his life, which was something; but, further, he was the ideal master. Other men saw to the welfare of their dogs from a sense of duty and business expediency; he was to the welfare of his as if they were his own children, because he could not help it. And he saw further. He never forgot kindly greeting or a cheering word, and to sit down for a long talk with them (gas he called it) was as much his delight as theirs. He had a way of taking Buck’s head roughly between his hands, and resting his own head upon Buck’s, of shaking him back and forth, the while calling him ill names that to Buck were love names. Buck knew no greater joy than that rough embrace and the sound of murmured oaths, and at each jerk back and forth it seemed that his heart would be shaken out of his body so great was its ecstasy. And when, released, he sprang to his feet, his mouth laughing, his eyes eloquent, his throat vibrant with unuttered sound, and in that fashion remained without movement, John Thornton would reverently exclaim, “God! You can all but speak!”“The blood longing became stronger than ever before. He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survived. Because all of this he became possessed of a great pride in himself, which communicated itself like a contagion to his physical being. It advertised itself in all his movements, was apparent in the play of very muscle, spoke plainly as speak in the way he carried himself, and made his glorious furry coat if anything more glorious. But for the stray brown on his muzzle and above his eyes, and for the splash of white hair that ran midmost down his chest, he might well have been mistaken for a gigantic wolf, larger than the largest of the breed. From his St. Bernard father he had inherited size and weight, but it was his shepherd mother who had given shape to that size and weight. His muzzle was the long wolf muzzle, save that it was larger than the muzzle of any wolf; and his head, somewhat broader, was the wolf head on a massive scale.”“There is a patience of the wild-dogged, tireless, persistent as life itself-that holds motionless for endless hours the spider in its web, the snake in its coils, the panther in its ambuscade; this patience belong peculiarly to life when it hunts its living food; and it belonged to Buck as he clung to the flank of the herd….” It has brought about three adaptations to film


I loved this book from start to finish. For about three seconds when it began, as I realised it was being told from the perspective of a dog, I baulked. I don't do books or movies with talking animals. However I realised quickly that the animal didn't talk. The author explained the motivations of the protaganist without ever actually giving the animal speech. This alone was amazing and made me love it.The book follows a dog that is taken from its cushy plantation life and made to work as a sled dog in Alaska. That is all I am going to say. This is a good book, and I refuse to spoil a good book by telling you bits and pieces about what happens. Just go read it.One of the things I have enjoyed most about this book is retelling it to my 2yo daughter as she goes to sleep. I draw on her back and tell her the story.Read this if you like "The old man and the sea" (which I loved too).(Quick review as I am tired and need to go to bed... go read one of the thousand other five-star reviews that will probably express my adoration better).ETA:I bought a hard copy of the book so we could read it as a bedtime story to the girls. Something felt off as I listened along, I couldn't put my finger on it until I looked closely at the copy... an abridged version.Allow me to rant about abridged versions. They have no purpose. It would be better to read half of the unabridged version, and gain everything that the author is offering then to read a dumbed down version which serves no purpose.I offer the opening paragraphs to emphasis my point.UnabridgedBuck did not read the newspapers or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself but for every tidewater dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Artic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland. These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protect them from the frost.AbridgedBuck was Judge Wheeler's favourite pet dog. He had just been fed and was lying at his master's feet, in front of a blazing fire. How was Buck to know that his easy life in California was about to come to a sudden and violent end? In a few moments time, he would begin a wild, dangerous and extraordinary journey that would change his life forever. Buck was staring into the flames, his eyes blinking shut now and again as he started to doze. Never had a dog been so happy with his lot. Judge Wheeler was asleep in his armchair with a newspaper on his lap. Come on!!!! The first is a completely different writing style, Buck is strong and independent and it is the whole world that is of interest. In the second we have a pet dog. The point of reading classics is to experience what the author has to offer. Imagine if someone did this to the Old Man and the Sea...An old guy has caught much in a while. A local boy brings him food and bait.... Surely you would rather read my simplistic prose than Ernest Hemingway... He is soooo wordy and it would take so long.

Janie Johnson

I first bought the book The Unabridged Jack London, because he had been a favorite of my Mom's, and I wanted to see what he was like. Well I fianlly got around to reading The Call of the Wild, and I gotta question what my mom saw in this book. It was such raw, horrifying violence nearly from begining to end. I could not understand the infactuation in the book or in Jack London. It was pretty cool though that the book was wrote through the eyes of a dog called Buck. But it also made for a boring long rambling read because of the lack of speaking in the book. I felt so disheartened at the beginning of the book because of what Buck went through, and then repulsed by what Buck had become. Needless to say I dont believe I will be reading anymore Jack London. It's not that he is a bad Author because he is one of the greats. But because this is really not the genre for me.


First off I should say that London is a great writer. This is the first book I've read of his. His description of the Alaskan terrain is incredible. I have never been to Alaska but when I read this book I could picture it in my head very clearly. However, that does not take away what I think of the story itself. It wasn't bad. It was interesting, but I could not seem to grasp exactly what London's point was. Was it animal cruelty? Was it the wild should be kept wild? Or is there some hidden social message? There are numerous other themes that I could guess at but I couldn't pinpoint the particular one London was trying to express. It did get me thinking but in more of a jumble of thougts instead of just focused on one.There are parts where the narrator (third person) seems very detached as if he were giving a documentary on Buck. Now Buck is an amazing dog, no doubt about it. He goes against all odds and learns how to survive the wild northland leaving his legend. But nevertheless he is a dog and maybe I'm bias since I usually only read books about humans but I could only see Buck as a dog. Don't get me wrong, I was cheering him on the whole time. I wanted him to have his happily ever after but the ending didn't give me that satisfaction. Maybe it's a happily ever after for a dog but not for me.

Stuart Aken

I come late to this classic, which I gather is intended as a children’s story. Mind you, I suspect a few of the modern generation might have difficulty with some of the language and sentence structure. Be that as it may, the story is rightly a classic: the language is beautiful, the ideas, which are wide-ranging, are wonderfully expressed with little sign of authorial intrusion. The central theme, of the reversion of the civilised into the primitive, is cleverly illustrated as Buck slowly learns from experience that, when it comes to simple survival, many of the trappings of civilisation are just that. There is no room for sentimentality in the extremes of the wild.I don’t generally enjoy books that rely on anthropomorphism (the obvious exception is Orwell’s Animal Farm) but this is a story that works in spite of the humanisation of the central canine character. It says something about the writing skills of the author that the presentation of the dog as a creature capable of human reasoning is barely noticeable for most of the story. The tale itself dashes along at a pace that matches that of the husky teams it follows. There is nothing wasted, everything we are told is germane to the story.One of my quibbles relates to the characters. This is a male-centred story and several archetypal males are represented, giving a sense of balance to the way men are depicted. Unfortunately, only one woman finds a place in the tale and she is stereotypical, insubstantial and without any real personality. A story intended for children needs to express the positive and negative aspects of both genders in equal measure. Any child reading this book will glean an impression of women as feeble, insecure, troublesome and hysterical. No examples of strong women, no honour or nobility here for the female of the species. It is, of course, of its time. But I do wonder to what extent it has been responsible for imposing a general prejudice against women in the psyche of some American males.One other negative aspect that troubles me relates to the depiction of killing (albeit as a method of obtaining food) as something both desirable and admirable, rather than as a necessary evil. I suspect this may have had some effect on the hunting fraternity in the States, giving them permission to enter the wild and shoot animals for trophies. For Buck, the act of killing is an essential for survival. For the modern hunter, it is reduced to the element of ‘sport’; though how any rational being can associate the use of a gun against a wild animal with sport I cannot comprehend.All that said, I enjoyed this book. I’d certainly recommend it to any adult reader who has not had the pleasure. But I’d caution against the exposure of children to the story.

Loren Rines

Call of the Wild is a great book that I really enjoyed reading. It was exciting, scary, sad and inspiring in places. The book is about a dog named Buck that was taken from his comfortable ranch in California and forced to live the life of a sled dog in the harsh Alaskan Yukon. It was exciting to read how Buck learned to handle his change in scenery and take charge of his life.Buck had a really hard and physically punishing time adjusting to his new life and had many dangerous and almost deadly encounters learning how to survive. The other sled dogs were dominant and aggressive and did not like Buck because he was big and very capable of the job of sled dog. When I read the things that Buck went through I felt sad for him and wished he could beat the mean and aggressive nature of his fellow dogs. Buck does that and more.The miners and masters that Buck meets in this cold and hard world are just as harsh and interesting as his many encounters with the other sled dogs. Buck was careful, scared, and always aware that his life was in danger. The men were there to break his spirit and the dogs to put him in his place, a place of unimportance. While this is happening, Buck learns quickly how to survive and gets in touch with his wild side. He learns to be tough, smart, and unfeeling watching numerous encounters with the men and deadly fights between the sled dogs.Buck totally transformed and with each step he explored back in his roots. He found his tough and spirited side that allowed him to take control of his situation. Buck gets a new master, John Thornton, and after many difficult experiences between them where they save each others life, a new, deep respect develops between them. Love and respect was again a big part of Bucks life after a long period of being lost and taken advantage of. Buck becomes a new, tough spirited dog with a new purpose.Buck over powers and sometimes kills other sled dogs and gains superiority. He spends quality time with his trusted master, but he can’t escape the calling he feels. He eventually joins up with a local wolf pack, becoming their leader and answering the call of the wild that has been eating at him. He loses his master in a rogue Indian attack that only confirms his move to his ancestors. After killing many Indians he realizes he is also dominant over humans and this takes his thinking full circle. He realizes he must answer the call of the wild and lead the life of his ancestors. He leaves civilization and humans behind forever. This was a powerful decision and an inspiring way to end the story. This was a really a great book that I recommend sincerely to my friends and anyone who likes an inspiring and uplifting story. Jack London does a great job drawing you into his frozen world.

عائشة عبد الله

القصة كانت عن كلب، تربى في البيوت وعاش حياة رفاهية حتى تمت سرقته ذات يوم ليعيش حياة قاسية ويتنقل بين أشخاص مختلفين في الطباع والسلوك، مابين عاطف عليه وقاسٍ.العبرة ليست بالمغامرات المجردة، بل بالمعنى العام للكتاب، حيث أنه أثر بي كثيرا؛ فهو يشرح فكرة طالما فكرت بها ولكن لم أستطع صياغتها بالشكل المناسب.الفكرة تقول: أن جميع الناس متحضرون، القانون وتأثيره هو الذي يجعلهم أفضل أم اسوأ.ببساطة الكلب اضطر للسرقة اضطرارا، اضطر إلى أن يصبح شرسا، أن يعود إلى طبيعته البدائية.اقرأوا المقطع التالي:قسوة الحياة، اللاعدل، الإفتقاد للعزة والكرامة، تجعل البشر تفعل الكثير وتستخرج أسوأ مافي طبيعتهم.يتحول الإنسان من شخص ذو مباديء وأخلاق يموت من أجلها إلى إنسان يتسول لقمة يومه ويدعو الله أن يستره ولا توضع العيون عليه.أتعلمون لي صديقة تدعى أغنيس من أمريكا وزارت الكثير من البلدان العربية، قالت لي ذات مرة: لماذا الناس في البلدان العربية أشعر أنهم في حالة حرب دائما، فهم عصبيون قلقون يتهجمون ولا ينتظمون في طابور طعام ولا في الأماكن الحكومية، أشعر أنهم في حالة فوضى عظيمة!ببساطة لا تطلب مني أن أنتظم في طابور وأنا أرى غيري يأتي متأخرا ويُقدم علي!حتى أنتِ يا أغنيس سَتتُقدمين علي في الطابور! وستسهل عليكِ كل الأمور في بلداننا، لا تستطيعين لومنا أبدا ولن تفهمي مانعيش فيه.عودة إلى القصة فهي رمزية وهذا مايجعلها مذهلة، تحتوي على الكثير من المواقف التي نستطيع إسقاطها على الواقع وتشرح تصرفات البشر تحت الضغوط المختلفة. شكرا لفيلم Into the wild الذي دلني على جاك لندن.أنصح بقرائتها قراءة متأنية.

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