Publisher's Synopsis
Jack London is one of my favorite authors. He dive-bombs straight into an exploration of the endurance of the human spirit, and makes it walk to the very brink of insanity and death before pulling it back to see what burned off in the struggle. He subjects his stories' heroes to the most tortuous of scenarios and the most savage of antagonists that strips the skin, muscles, and bones from the protagonist's character until the last bit of grit is revealed that signifies the truest bit of life that lies buried in each of us beneath all the fatty comforts, convenience, and beyond the reach of all self-deception. London is notorious for holding his characters squirming under the microscope of his story, and suddenly reveals that it is our own doppelganger that is writhing in agony of exposure beneath our very eyes! London seizes us by the throat and peels away our trappings layer by layer until he is able to divide between the animal and the divine in us. It is discomfiting, but enlightening, and strangely rejuvenating as one begins to reclothe the spirit a bit more honestly and intentionally when the story is finished. Just keep your fingers away from London's teeth--he will tear the skin if you brush too closely against his piercing deconstruction of the carnal facade of the soul that might be a bit more fragile than we think.
