Most of us know the genius of Dreiser, the lyrical capabilities of this author is astonishing. He humanizes literature, the characters posess complex personalities and physical appearances. He takes the aesthetic beauty of the surreal and the honesty of harsh reality and combines these potent elements into a story of life, almost more believable than our own. This story follows Jennie Gerhardt, a young German girl living with her poor family in Ohio before the turn of the century. Honest but hard work puts her into the path of Senator Brander a benevolent mature man, but his ardent passions soon destroy Jennie, and her life is tainted with shame. She leaves her home, and life take her on many journeys, mostly unpleasant. This story chronicles how one mistake can change your life, and the domino effect takes place, constantly misplacing your life as you try to escape the past. I would also recommend "Tess of the D'Urbervilles" by Thomas Hardy

It seems each time I finish one of Dresier's works I think it is my favorite. Such is the case with Jennie Gerhardt, at least until my next Dresier. This heart-wrenching saga takes the reader through Jennie's life from cleaning houses with her mother, bearing a child by a US Senator and living and loving a man beyond her society class. Lester (the man she loves after the Senator), for his part, is unwilling to marry Jennie and is cut-off from the family and it's millions for loving someone "below" his class in society. Jennie remains true to herself, following her heart and the dicates of a harsh scoiety. She makes amendes with her father and is the only child to nurture him through his final days and death. She takes her daughter away from Chicago and leaves Lester so he can reclaim his family fortune. Her daughter dies, leaving her alone but the strength of Jennie's character comes through when she adopts orphans, for if she isn't nurturing she isn't living. Dreiser drives home his theme of fate and how some can dictate it while others are a slave to it. But even this distinction isn't black and white. Lester seems not to care what fate has in store for him until he takes it into his onw hands and marries the society girl he arguably should have married before he hooked up with Jennie. Alas, Jennie never mastered her fate. She was punished for loving two men from the upper-crust of scoiety instead of taking the crusts that high-living classes would toss her.

As usual, Dreiser's writing style just amazes me. Just like SISTER CARRIE, this book is about a woman searching for a place in life. You can't but help feel her pain of how her first love dies, only to find out she's pregnant, and she's not even married! Then concealing this child from her next lover, who she lives on. Just like always, a grand and entertaining read.

This collection consists of three novels -- "Vandover and the Brute," "McTeague," and "The Octopus" -- and a series of essays.The novels are all grim, compelling stories. Another reviewer's remarking on the similarity between "The Octopus" and Zola's "Germinal" is apt. Unlike that reviewer, I found "The Octopus" most compelling. This is a grand tale with numerous subplots. The central theme is the struggle between the railroad (the octopus) and wheat farmers. I found it difficult to put down. And I found myself tearing up at points, somewhat disconcerting as I read most of this on BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit). All three novels are set in California with a least some if not most of the action taking place in San Francisco. These stories are excellent reads if you're not too squeamish.

The Library of America (LOA)is a not for profit publisher dedicated to keeping great American writing in print. In this volume (number 33 in the series that currently has 140 volumes) LOA publishes three novels and twenty-two essays by Frank Norris. While this is not all of his writing, this is the only currently available source for some of these works within the budget of most readers. I purchased this volume simply because of the LOA. I had never heard of Frank Norris. My only expectation was great writing. I was not disappointed.

The first novel, Vandover and the Brute, was written while Norris was a student at Harvard. It was published after his death and appears to have been altered by his brother who found parts of the novel and its then strong language objectionable. Even with this, I found it to be an interesting story of a indolent young man's moral slide. It is a story of the perfidy of a good friend, rationalizing bad moral decisions, and playing poorly the hand that the main character, Vandover, has been dealt. Good intentions never last long. Vandover takes advantage of a girl in his set. Her subsequent suicide sets in motion his slide. All along he takes the path of least resistence; he makes slopy, lazy, irresponsible choices that contribute to the inevitable outcome.

McTeague, the second novel, was also begun while Norris was at Harvard and published in 1899. While not as lurid a subject as Vandover, parts of the book were quite controversial at the time. The book notes indicate that a passage describing incontinence was rewritten for its second printing due to pressure from the publisher. This LOA printing of this novel contains the original passage. I think that McTeague is the most enjoyable or the three novels. The writing is so clear and realistic. I think that it influenced some of the great realistic writers to follow.

The last novel in this volume was titled The Octopus, and was an ambitious undertaking. It was to be the first part of a never completed trilogy, THE EPIC OF THE WHEAT. It has a hugh cast of characters and reminds me of both the novel and movie "GIANT". (Of course, the Octopus is better written.) Missing is the second part of the trilogy called the Pit. (Norris died suddenly in his early thirties before he wrote the third book.) For some reason LOA chose to include some of Norris'essays instead of the Pit. Regardless...

This is a wonderful volume of extraordinarily well written works. Discovering the writing of Frank Norris was one of readings great pleasures. I highly recommend this book. I also encourage you to check out some of the other volumes published by the Library of America.

Of all the Naturalistic writers on the American literary scene during the years 1890-1930 (Dreiser, London, Crane, etc.) it was Frank Norris, I believe, who was closest in spirit to the Emile Zola of novels like "L'Assomoir." This volume includes Norris' 2 best novels--"McTeague" and "Vandover and the Brute"--as well as his much longer (and, I think, much less effective) novel "The Octopus" which is an installment in the unfinished "wheat" trilogy (which is closer to the spirit of Zola novels like "Germinal" and "La Terre").

Whereas "The Octopus" and "The Pit" (not included in this volume, but available in paperback from Penguin) are panoramic views of class struggle (foreshadowing the Steinbeck of "Cannery Row" and "Grapes of Wrath"), both "McTeague" and "Vandover" tell the story of one individual's downfall--in the former, that of a dim-witted dentist; in the latter, that of a spoiled son of a business tycoon. Many people, myself included, prefer the Norris of "McTeague" and "Vandover." Whereas, with the "wheat" trilogy, you get the feeling that Norris maybe bit off more than he could chew--that the project was too ambitious--these other two novels are minor masterpieces of decadent fiction. "Vandover," I believe, is ultimately the more affecting of the two. McTeague is simply an idiot; there is little to like about him. The story is wonderfully told with irony and dark humor, but McTeague's downfall probably affects us less than Vandover's because his stupidity and crudity distance him from us. His predicament is more laughable than anything else. "Vandover," however, is much more human than McTeague, much more like us. I wouldn't say he's a character protrayed in completely sympathetic terms, because he does some pretty mean-spirited things, but it is not very difficult to put ourselves in Vandover's place.

What is most frightening about "Vandover" is that it so vividly dramatizes the way in which a series of seemingly minor events combined with certain circumstances, lack of self-discipline or self-control, and bad habits can utterly ruin someone. "Vandover" is a warning to all of those people with artistic (and I use "artistic" in its broadest sense) ambitions who lack the self-discipline necessary to fulfill them. Alcohol, drugs, and other carnal pleasures are your greatest enemies.

If you like "Vandover," be sure to read F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Beautiful and Damned," which is a very similar story of a spoiled playboy's decline and fall (no doubt heavily influenced by Norris's novel). Alcohol is the primary culprit in many a Naturalist novel's protagonist's downfall. Yet the great thing about the Naturalists was that they were able to tell such stories without sliding down into didactic temperance fiction.

After reading this book for school, (not that I was forced to) I gave it a 4/5 star rating. It was excellent when it came to the setting of the story. Even though it is a very short, it crams alot of suspensfull and interesting moments into 100 some odd pages. This book is quite good and page turning. I highly recommend it to readers who like a mix of reality and fantasy in one. Masterful piece of writing.

Jack London was one of the greatest American writers. I love everything he wrote and I wish I could write as well as he did.

Collected works of Jack London have been reprinted in a variety of editions. It is a good collection to add to any library. Jack London (1876-1916) was born John Griffith Chaney to an unwed mother. He is known to have associated with the rougher elements of society and went to Alaska in 1897 in the early stages of the gold rush, returning a year later broke and in ill health. Most of his writing used the Yukon and Alaska as a setting, although some material is undoubtedly drawn from other sources as well. The description of the town used in one of his short stories fits in well with what he would have observed during his stopover in my hometown in Washington State. He is generally regarded as an author/adventurer, and his novels and short stories have endured the test of time, being as popular now as when they were written. Like many artists and writers, his life was somewhat short.

Frank Norris explained in "Mcteague" how uncontrollable forces are crafting the characters' destinys. For example, Norris explained that Mcteague loved Triana less after Triana first kissed him as a natural rule of human relationship. Other examples are that Mcteague murdered his wife because he let the beast in him dominates, and Triana lived in poverty even though she has five thousand dollar because her strong uncontrollabe desire to save did not let her use the money. "McTeague" holds the readers' interest by having suspense and descriptive language. It is a fun book to read.

McTeague is a tragedy, though not quite on par with the Greek and Shakespearean tragedies, is certainly worthy of praise. The author does a splendid job of vibrantly describing settings and characters. The characters are ones that you feel for and sympathize with as they all have their own tragic situations. Norris takes you through a rollercoaster as the characters in the book each have their highs and lows. Ultimately, McTeague, is more than just a story about mid-19th century California, but rather of the darker side of man himself. The evil qualities of man, such as lust and greed, are depicted in the book as well as the consequences of such qualities. Although McTeague starts of slowly at first, the novel sucks you in quickly and doesn't let go.

Some aspects of McTeague are a little on the amateurish side; it can be psychologically clumsy, and some of the symbolism seems a bit labored (hey, Norris was in his twenties, whaddaya expect?). This, however, is irrelevant, because, truly, it is the most visceral novel I've read in ages, pulling no punches, and with easily the most nightmarish ending I've ever encountered in a 'realistic' novel (whatever you do, don't spoil it for yourself). Norris's single token attempt at lightening the mood is a secondary romantic subplot, but really, you'll be so overwhelmed by the novel's main thread, you'll barely notice.

Norris was heavily, heavily influenced by Zola, and it shows on ever page. And, while his writing might not be up to that of The Man at his height (though if he hadn't died at thirty-two...the mind reels at the possibilities), he nonetheless displays all of Emile's best tendencies: the talent for atmosphere, the firm refusal to ever relent, the simply-drawn but deeply memorable characters...it's all there. Written in English, by an American. One of those things that might contribute to my being proud of my country, if not for various other issues.

Seriously, dudes and dudesses...it's difficult for me to imagine how one could fail to be awestruck by this novel. Anyone interested in American fiction, naturalism, or just kickass writing in general should most definitely not miss it.

Garland is an expert at capturing local color. This collection of short stories shows the brutal reality of farm and rural life in the Midwest. His characters are thrown around in the cruel world and have no real way of escaping. His women characters are strong and hold their own in world dominated by hard working men. This book shows how it was like to live in the West one hundred years ago.

Garland captures the American West as it was at the end of the 19th Century. This collection of shorts stories is a slice of life in rural America. Garland is a true local colorist who portrays real, hard working farmers and the struggle to survive in the harsh landscape of the Midwest. Who is a true Naturalist who shows the brutal reality of American life and the lack of control people had on the conditions of their lives. These stories take you into the hardships of the countryfolk of one hundred years ago.

Hamlin captures the essence of American Realism. The vividly painted scenes full of grit and labor keep this book moving. The characters are solid and provide the reader with a painfully honest view of life and love at the turn of the century. A necessary book for any decent collection of American Realism. Escape into the main traveled roads of humanity!

Despite post-structuralist announcements of the death of the author and the pointlessness of such categories of "realism" and "naturalism," academics continue to question exactly what to make of the literature of the 1850s-1910s of the United States. This anthology of various issues in the debates is instructive in assisting students to become more familiar with some of the important concepts and thoughts that guide such concerns. The anthology is conveniently divided into areas of historical concern, critical theory, and case studies of various texts. The two sections on history and theory are by far the most informative that offers a relatively nuanced understanding on how naturalism and realism have defined over the years. The case studies section is informative but limited mostly to the canonical texts of the debates by such writers as Howells, James, Crane, Norris, Gilman, Chopin, Dreiser, London, and Sinclair. There is one article that ties James Weldon Johnson's "Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man" to W.B. DuBois, but the connections are fairly obvious and have been covered more thoroughly and better by various Afro-American studies. Especially noteworthy is Elizabeth Ammons article on questioning the canon of how american realism has been constructed in the past. She makes an informative point about the diversity in such a category and how various authors with different racial, ethnic, and class backgrounds challenge traditional conceptions of how realism is defined (sexuality is notably absent in her discussion). Unfortunately, the editor of the volume did not take her advice to heart and include some of the lesser known realists and naturalists in the collection, such as Sui-Sin Far, Mary Wilkins Freeman, Jewett, Cahan, Pauline Hopkins,Rebecca Harding Davis, etc.

Regardless, however, of the anthology's limits, it still offers a good understanding of the historical background of the time, the critical debates ensued about the terms, and the various types of realisms enlisted by Howells and James and the various types of naturalism promoted by such authors as Crane and Norris.

A good "refresher" book for those familiar with such issues, and an excellent introduction for those who want to become familiar with two very important movements in the United States that are still largely overlooked and dismissed by the university.

Dreiser's Sister Carrie is an urban novel. A country girl comes to the city, ends up with a slick saleman as a kept woman, but runs off with a bar manager to New York where she finds fame as an actress. Her bar manager husband falls on hard times and kills himself. Carrie's fortunes rise as Hurstwood's falls. The characters operate in the world of the city with its mystical pull. Their decisions and some chance events help guide along the plot, but this is a world of survival of the fittest. Carrie turns out to be fit, while Hurstwood does not. There are undertones of Darwin's theories. Dreiser himself occasionally appears as a voice in the work separate from the narrator and the characters. The Norton Critical Edition contains useful reference works at the back and a bibliography helpful for starting research.

The two rivals circle the ring, probing for any point of weakness. The duel has lasted longer than either competitor had anticipated. Weakened by fatigue, the challenger feints high and goes for a crippling blow. No, this is not a boxing title match in Las Vegas. This is a life-and-death struggle of one domestic dog for survival in the cold, icy, barren regions of the Alaskan plains. This is a clash between the civilized and the primordial. This is the conflict between domestication and liberation. This is the Call of the Wild.

Jack London centers his story on a dog by the name of Buck. Buck is a big, strong dog, his father being a St. Bernard and his mother being a Scottish shepherd dog. At one hundred and forty pounds, Buck was no mere house pet. Kept physically strong with a love of rigorous swimming and constant outdoor exercise, Buck was a lean, formidable dog. Undoubtedly, his great condition was part of the reason that the gardener's helper dog-napped and sold him to dog traders, who in turn sold him to Canadian government mail couriers. The gold rush in Alaska had created a huge demand for good dogs, which eventually led to the "disappearances" of many dogs on the West Coast. Buck was no exception. He was sold into a hostile environment, which was unforgiving and harsh. Although civilization domesticated him from birth, Buck soon begins almost involuntarily to rediscover himself, revealing a "primordial urge", a natural instinct, which London refers to as the Call of the Wild.

This book is set in the Klondike, a region in Alaska that was literally stormed by thousands of men looking to get rich quick via the gold rush. Transportation was increasingly important, but horses were near useless in winter, prone to slip and fall on snow and ice. Dogs were by far the best means of transportation in Alaska at the time, somewhere near the end of the 19th century. As the demand for dogs grew, the prices for good dogs skyrocketed. This price hike inevitably created a black-market- style selling of dogs, and the gardener's helper Manuel did what many men did; they sold the dogs for a good price.

A recurring theme in London's novel is the clash between natural instinct and domesticated obedience. Soon after the dog traders captured Buck, a man broke him with a club. Buck is thoroughly humiliated, but learned an all-important truth of the wild: The law of club and fang. Kill or be killed. Survival is above all. Buck resolved to himself to give way to men with clubs. In the beginning, Buck had problems with this new restriction, but learned that when his masters' hands hold whips or clubs, he must concede. However, that did not keep Buck from doing little deeds like stealing a chunk of bacon behind his masters' backs. However, as London says, "He did not steal for joy of it, but because of the clamor of his stomach . In short, the things he did were done because it was easier to do them than not to do them." In this way Buck learns the way of the wild but also acknowledges his inferiority to men with clubs or whips. Eventually in this novel, Buck throws away his old life completely and replaces it with his natural urge, the primordial version of himself, the Call of the Wild.

Another underlying theme is the relationship between dog and master. In the beginning, Buck is acquainted with the Judge with a dignified friendship, his sons with hunting partnership, his grandsons with protective guardianship, the mail couriers Francois and Perrault with a mutual respect. Against the man with a club he despised but gave respect. However, when Buck met John Thornton, he loved his master for the first time ever. There wasn't anything Buck wouldn't do for his master. Twice Buck saved Thornton's life, and pulled a thousand pounds of weight for Thornton's sake. Even after Buck routinely left his master's camp to flirt with nature, Buck always came back to appreciate his kind master. However, even after Thornton was gone and Buck had released all memories of his former life, Buck never forgot the kind hands of his master, even after answering the Call of the Wild.

Jack London truly brings Buck to life. Using a limited 3rd person view, the reader is told of Buck's thoughts and actions. Obviously, London gave several ideal human qualities to Buck, including a sharp wit, rational reasoning, quick thinking, and grounded common sense. However, he does not over-exaggerate the humanity in Buck, which would have given an almost cartoon-like feeling for a reader. Rather, being a good observer, London saw how dogs acted and worked backwards, trying to infer what the dogs think. The result is a masterful blend of human qualities and animal instinct that is entirely believable. It is obvious that Buck's experience was similar to many other dogs' experiences.

I have to admit that I have not really given Jack London his proper due up to now. Perhaps it is because I don't by my nature like outdoor adventure type stories, or perhaps it is because I associate White Fang and "To Build a Fire" with my youth. The fact is that Jack London is a tremendously talented writer. His understanding of the basics of life matches his great knowledge of the snow-enshrouded world of the upper latitudes. The Call of the Wild, despite its relative brevity and the fact that it is (at least on its surface) a dog's story, contains as much truth and reality of man's own struggles as that which can be sifted from the life's work of many another respected author. The story London tells is starkly real; as such, it is not pretty, and it is not elevating. As an animal lover, I found parts of this story heartbreaking: Buck's removal from the civilized Southland in which he reigned supreme among his animal kindred to the brutal cold and even more brutal machinations of hard, weathered men who literally beat him and whipped him full of lashes is supremely sad and bothersome. Even sadder are the stories of the dogs that fill the sled's traces around him. Poor good-spirited Curly never has a chance, while Dave's story is made the more unbearable by his brave, undying spirit. Even the harsh taskmaster Spitz has to be pitied, despite his harsh nature, for the reader knows full well that this harsh nature was forced upon him by man and his thirst for gold. Buck's travails are long and hard, but the nobility of his spirit makes of him a hero--this despite the fact that his primitive animal instincts and urges continually come to dominate him, pushing away the memory and reality of his younger, softer days among civilized man. Buck not only conquers all--the weather, the harshness of the men who harness his powers in turn, the other dogs and wolves he comes into contact with--he thrives. This isn't a story to read when you are depressed. London's writing is beautiful, poignant, and powerful, but it is also somber, sometimes morose, infinitely real, and at times gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.

"The Call of the Wild," by Jack London, is a short novel that tells the story of a dog named Buck. Half St. Bernard and half "Scotch shepherd dog," Buck is a huge, powerful dog who lives an idyllic existence on a magnificent estate "in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley." But the gold rush of 1897 has created a demand for working dogs. Early in the book's first chapter, Buck is betrayed, stolen, and sold into service in the frozen wilderness of the far north. The story follows his adventures and his relationships with both humans and other canines as he travels across this harsh new world.

The copyright page of the Dover edition notes that "Call" was published in book form back in 1903. It is a bold, rousing adventure story. Buck is a magnificent hero who evoked both my sympathy and my admiration as I followed his odyssey. He's a likeable but noble beast: truly one of American literature's great characters. London has filled Buck's world with a fascinating and diverse group of supporting characters (both man and beast). London's prose style is a pleasure to read: solid and muscular, yet with a subtly poetic, even mythic, flavor.

"Call" could be read as a straightforward adventure story, or perhaps as a parable of the human condition. Either way, London draws an intriguing contrast between the polite ways of society and the harsh "law of club and fang." This is a story full of adventure, violence, love, loss, and discovery. Both heartbreaking and uplifting, "The Call of the Wild" is, in my view, a true classic. Recommended as companion texts: Ernest Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea" (another great adventure tale) and Phyllis Reynold Naylor's "Shiloh" (another profoundly moving dog story).

The Red Badge of Courage is an interesting story in many ways. The tale follows a young Union soldier named Henry Fleming for a day or two as he cuts his teeth in Civil War battle. Simple enough. But the intrigue is how author Stephen Crane--born nearly two decades after the war--could have written such an accurate-sounding depiction of battle. We read the book in present day with the benefit of having viewed countless images of Civil War battles in movies, television, and real-life reenactments, and after reading many books on the subject (i.e., The Killer Angels, The Last Full Measure, The Civil War, etc.). It's easy to forget that he didn't witness the war, nor had he witnessed any war at that point in his life. And publishing it in 1895, Crane never had the luxury of movies. Yet, Crane's account still rings true. The battle scenes come from a vivid imagination and, no doubt, newspaper articles and old photos. It is a commendable accomplishment that has stood the test of time.

Another interesting aspect is that the book is not plot-based in the mold of a Dickens novel. It is essentially a "slice of life" piece. Crane drops us into the action just before Fleming faces his first battle. We aren't told where or when this battle takes place. We don't know who the senior commanders involved are or whether the scene is fact-based or total fiction. And it doesn't matter. The particulars on who's fighting, why they're fighting, and whether they're winning is immaterial to Crane. His focus is not on the glory or spectacle of war, nor the ultimate goals. His book is a study in fear and courage. Henry Fleming is scared to die. But he's more afraid that he'll panic and run, exposing cowardice. Death is not something the living can comprehend. Shame in the face of comrades is.

There is also an interesting contrast between the gore of battle and Crane's poetic prose. Not a book that will change your life, but worth the quick read it presents. --Christopher Bonn Jonnes, author of Wake Up Dead.

Imagine standing in the middle of a battlefield having to watch your friends suffer and eventually die from bullet shots. This is a typical scene from the Civil War, which had the most loss of American life than any other war. "The Red Badge of Courage" horrifically, yet accurately, depicts the true nature of war. Crane uses excellent imagery to describe what is happening in the mind of the protagonist Henry Fleming, a young soldier. Although the language is somewhat difficult to comprehend because of the dialogue, the story itself is not difficult at all because of the intensity of battlefield and descriptiveness of the scenery. Crane's descriptions make it clear that war is a traumatizing experience for everyone. Although the experience may be disturbing, cowards should not be involved in war, as Henry beautifully demonstrates. While most war stories present heroes of the war, Henry is portrayed as the exact opposite. He starts out as a boy going into war for the first time, and at one point runs away from all the fighting. In time, he matures through experience while facing the horrors of war. He eventually desires the red badge of courage, a wound that would mark his involvement in the war. All history lovers and those who love bloody and gruesome "Braveheart" type stories should read "The Red Badge of Courage."

Why is the Red Badge of Courage so hard to read until about the middle of the book? I think it's because Crane throws us into the world of fear in the first half - fear, cowardice, panic, the confusion and disorganization of war. We're not used to being treated like this, either by books or the real world. I can identify with Crane because the first half of my life was like that. It's OK to be afraid. You can even start reading from the middle and eventually go backwards if it's frustrating. As for life, at some point in life, if you really keep trying, fear gets tiresome and repetitive. You begin to despise yourself as a coward, and you only see images of cowardice around you. The uselessness of following the crowd and some of the fairy tales you learned hit you like a brick. You see too much destruction, whether in hot wars or cold wars, industry or the academic world. One day, when you have nothing left to lose, you try a new strategy called courage. You might feel a lot of anger when doing it, but you have to eventually learn to act out of calmness and yes, even love. You fight back because of the things and people you've lost. You become a Veteran, whether in war or in peace with illness like Crane himself. You learn that there are things more important than your own life. Then you're like Audie Murphy, Mahatma Gandhi, Stephen Crane, Galileo Galilei, Saint Thomas More. And the strangest thing of all is that they're right. There are things more important than your own life. One of them is called Courage.

This Library of America edition contains some of the less well known works of Jack London. Many are autobigraphical in nature, others fictional self-portraitures, and all written in a very socialist bent. In these writing, Jack London clearly has a bone to pick with American Capitalism and the upper classes, no doubt from personal grudges stemming from his background and his struggle for success.

In "The People of the Abyss", Jack London goes undercover in the Whitechapel district of London, more than a decade after Jack the Ripper, to vividly describe the social degredation of the inhabitants of the East End. One can see a heavy influence of H.G. Wells in this lengthy essay that seems to be illustrating in non-fictional narrative the degeneration of the worker into the Morlock as described in Well's "Time Machine".

"The Road" is a quite interesting autobiographical narrative of Jack's life as a Hobo, while "John Barleycorn" is a non-fictional account of London's life using alcohol as a theme. The depressing "Martin Eden" is a quasi-fictional autobiography of London's struggles to become a successfull writer.

"The Iron Heel" is a novel of the future set in Berkeley. It bears resemblance to theme and style of Edward Bellamy's "Looking Backward" and is filled with Socialist drivel a la Berkeley. The climax, set in Chicago during massive riots of the proletariat, is a reworking of scenes from Well's "War of the Worlds."

While there is much of historic interest in these works, which is what attracted me to them since I am a resident of the S.F. Bay where much of these works take place, unless you are a student of London, you will probably find much of the socialist commentary and biographical repition a bit tiresome. Moreover, Jack London can be extremely depressing. I would not advise, for example, reading "Martin Eden" when you are already a sour frame of mind