The Call of the Wild (Modern Library #88)
As I’ve mentioned before, I love Jack London. He was flawed—as a writer and man. (All the great heroes are.) But I love the raw passion in his muscular prose. I’d read Call of the Wild in high school. It did nothing for me. It wasn’t until law school when I was taking a seminar on Prisoners’ Rights that I rediscovered him. A guest speaker said, “If you want to know what prison’s really like, read Jack London.” No reference. But I love to research, and before long, I’d found it. Once begun, I was curled up in a corner of the main library reading and skipped my next class. I’d been drowning in case law, and now I was buoyed by Jack’s visceral phrases. I should have known then that I would never enjoy law in the same way. But, compuslive finisher that I am, I slogged on and finished law school. Passed the bar. Spent a year practicing family law, thoroughly disgusted with my clients and myself most of all.
I missed Jack.
I will tell you a little known fact (and by fact, I mean my opinion); Martin Eden is a romance novel. Seriously. One of the most romantic novels I’ve ever read.