Jack London, White Fang (1906)
Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees
had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they
seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A
vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless,
without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of
sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than
any sadnessa laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter
cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the
masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of lite
and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland
Wild.
But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the frozen
waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur was rimed with frost.
Their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of
vapour that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of
frost. Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a
sled which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. It was made of
stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the snow. The front end of the
sled was turned up, like a scroll, in order to force down and under the bore of
soft snow that surged like a wave before it. On the sled, securely lashed, was a
long and narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled - blankets, an
axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the
space, was the long and narrow oblong box.
In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At the rear of
the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil
was over,a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would
never move nor struggle again. It is not the way of the Wild to like movement.
Life is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always to
destroy movement. It freezes the water to prevent it running to the sea; it drives
the sap out of the trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts; and most
ferociously and terribly of all does the Wild harry and crush into submission
man-man who is the most restless of life, ever in revolt against the dictum that
all movement must in the end come to the cessation of movement.
But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who
were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned leather.
, Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen
breath that their faces were not discernible. This gave them the seeming of
ghostly masques, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost.
But under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery
and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves
against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of
space.
They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of their
bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a tangible
presence. It affected their minds as the many atmospheres of deep water affect
the body of the diver It crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and
unalterable decree, It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own
minds, pressing out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and
exaltations and undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived
themselves finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and
little wisdom amidst the play and interplay of the great blind elements and
forces.
Jack London (1876-1916), White Fang, 1906
Jack London, White Fang (1906)
Proposition de Corrigé - Jack London
John Griffith "Jack" London (1876-1916) was an American adventurer,
novelist, journalist, and social activist, born in San Francisco.
London left school at the age of 14 and worked in a cannery (a factory
where food is canned). By the time he was 16 he had been both an oyster pirate
and a member of the Fish Patrol in San Francisco Bay. In 1893 he joined a
sealing cruise which took him as far as Japan. Returning to the US, he travelled
throughout the country as a hobo. He was determined to become a writer and
read voraciously. In 1897, after a brief period at the University of California,
Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees
had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they
seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A
vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless,
without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of
sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than
any sadnessa laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter
cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the
masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of lite
and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland
Wild.
But there was life, abroad in the land and defiant. Down the frozen
waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. Their bristly fur was rimed with frost.
Their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of
vapour that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of
frost. Leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a
sled which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. It was made of
stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the snow. The front end of the
sled was turned up, like a scroll, in order to force down and under the bore of
soft snow that surged like a wave before it. On the sled, securely lashed, was a
long and narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled - blankets, an
axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the
space, was the long and narrow oblong box.
In advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. At the rear of
the sled toiled a second man. On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil
was over,a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would
never move nor struggle again. It is not the way of the Wild to like movement.
Life is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the Wild aims always to
destroy movement. It freezes the water to prevent it running to the sea; it drives
the sap out of the trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts; and most
ferociously and terribly of all does the Wild harry and crush into submission
man-man who is the most restless of life, ever in revolt against the dictum that
all movement must in the end come to the cessation of movement.
But at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who
were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned leather.
, Eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen
breath that their faces were not discernible. This gave them the seeming of
ghostly masques, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost.
But under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery
and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves
against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of
space.
They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of their
bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a tangible
presence. It affected their minds as the many atmospheres of deep water affect
the body of the diver It crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and
unalterable decree, It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own
minds, pressing out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and
exaltations and undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived
themselves finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and
little wisdom amidst the play and interplay of the great blind elements and
forces.
Jack London (1876-1916), White Fang, 1906
Jack London, White Fang (1906)
Proposition de Corrigé - Jack London
John Griffith "Jack" London (1876-1916) was an American adventurer,
novelist, journalist, and social activist, born in San Francisco.
London left school at the age of 14 and worked in a cannery (a factory
where food is canned). By the time he was 16 he had been both an oyster pirate
and a member of the Fish Patrol in San Francisco Bay. In 1893 he joined a
sealing cruise which took him as far as Japan. Returning to the US, he travelled
throughout the country as a hobo. He was determined to become a writer and
read voraciously. In 1897, after a brief period at the University of California,
