JACK LONDON.

Hokitika Guardian, 1 April 1922, Page 4

JACK LONDON.

The late Jack London, the official biography of whom lias been written by Mrs Charmian K. London, his widow, was a remarkable phenomenon in literature. He died in 1916, at the age of -12. He did-not begin to write seriously till well in his twenties, and his first look was published in 1900. Yet, at the time of his death he had written no less than 49 volumes (including some published posthumously)—collections of short stories, novels, travel impressions, disquisitions on Socialism, and plays—as well as a mass of occasional and fugitive work that lias not yet appeared in hook form. London claimed that everything die wrote had a basis of personal experience ; and indeed he lived his books as few authors have ever done. What he had seen in the course of an eventful career is the staple of his work. It is possible to reconstruct his life from his stories.

London began by helping in the paternal market garden near San Francisco, then got a job in a canning factory. He soon wearied of that, and in his sixteenth year became an “oyster pirate” in the Bay. There, with his own sloop Razzle Dazzle lie fished in prohibited seasons and prohibited waters, and sold his catch clandestinely or conciliated the police with a “rake-off.” By and bye tke sloop was damaged, and London joined the “Fish Patrol,” whose members hunted the “pirates,” amt were paid a percentage of the fines inflicted. The reversal of role must have appealed to London’s sense oi irony, and his knowledge of the pirates’ ways stood him in good stead. In his eighteenth year he sailed before the mast on a sealer on a cruise to the North Pacific grounds. There was a hectic interlude on the Bonin Islands, and the voyage supplied 'him with the material used later in “The Sea Wolf.” Oil his return home he “hoboed it” across America. For a time lie threw in his lot with Kelly’s ‘ ‘industrial army,” a legion of tramps, which was marching on Washington. But for the most part lie “beat it” alonfc, crouched under railway trucks or clinging precariously to the roofs of carriages. Tn a. letter to him in the east bis mother writes:—“Under no circumstances place yourself in a position to lie imprisoned, you have gone to see the country and not to spend your time behind the liars.” Alas for her exhortations. London was arrested for vagrancy, and served a short term in gaol. He was bitterly resentful at the injustice of American justice, but subsequently turned the incident to literary account, lack in San Francisco, ho settled down temporarily. He had always been a voracious reader, but had had little formal education —a thing at which in latjer days he used to rail, but which then seemed to him desirable. He entered Berkeley University, supporting himself with a subjanitorship. His studies were interrupted by an event which was to have a tremendous influence on his career. The rush to the Klondyke had set in. London’s brother-in-law caught the gold fever and agreed to take London with him. "When they reached Dvea, the brother-in-law realised that physically he would not he equal to the hardships of the north, and London went on “on his own.” He performed prodigies of strength and endurance, “packed” incredible loads incredible distances, shot impassable rapids, and so forth. He did not get much gold. Like many seekers of the elusive metal, he found side issues more profitable, and made money “lumbering.” However, at length he fell a victim to scurvy, the scouge of Klondyke, and had to loa\e the country. Back again in California, he was hv turns stoker, student, laundry hand—to mention only a few of his varied occupations —and it is curious to think that for a time the highest goal if his ambition was a job as a lettercarrier. He passed the nieces sarv examinations, hut there were no vacancies in the service. He was still drifting when it occurred to him that he might he able to “cash” his own experiences by weaving them into

stories. Success did not come at once. His MSS. were like homing pigeons. I Even those that were accepted brought him in little. Nowadays, we understand, in America short story writing is a Very lucrative art. But when | London was making his first attempts some magazines of standing and repute gave him no more than five or six dollars a story. However, gradually, ho found his feet and later commanded . the highest rate that has ever been paid to an American author. He also dabbled in journalism. At the close of the South African war ft paper sent, him out ns correspondent, but hostilities ceased when ho was on his way and he changed his course to London, where he “wrote up” the East End. He was also a special correspondent in Russo-Japanese and Mexican wars, but on account of the restrictions imposed, saw no fighting. On the strength of this he was satisfied that the wa r correspondent was obsolete, and for that reason refused several offers to go to the great war as a correspondent. For I the rest, work, travel and the activi- | ties of a country squire filled his busy J days, until his health broke down. | London earned huge sums of money, j yet he was chronically hard up. He : was given to lavish hospitality, and his ■ hobbies ran away with a great deal of ; money. To navigate the Pacific iu a ; private yacht is a fascinating pastime, but is expensive. London’s ranch, in which he took such a pride, was run at a heavy loss, though lie always declared it was not meant to be a paying concern. It was to be an object-les-sion, a- piece of. agricultural propaganda. But such indtdgences as the specially designed and built “Snark” (in which he sailed to and JBWWWSWSW 1 * •s*'*-*-*. -*

But between 1902 and 1914, the mo-tor-car liad come into its own. The peerless horse-mastery and swift guerilla tactics which had served so well in the South African War were no longer of avail.

Forced to flight by General Botha’s vigorous measures, General de Wet attempted to reach German South-West Africa. Travelling swiftly in the old style with relays of led horses, he was easilv over-taken and surrounded in

the Western Transvaal by a motor-ear corps from Johannesburg. Conviction for sedition followed and a short period of imprisonment. On his release, which followed an undertaking to take no part in politics he settled on bis farm,

“The Big House” and .the ranch with its pedigree stock, led some of the “comrades” to suspect the sincerity of London’s socialistic professions. Their protests, -indeed, ultimately caused him to resign from the party, and though Mrs London is indignant at the charge, London’s socialism was rather abstract -in character. Personally he seems to have been a good deal of an individualist, a believer in natural aristocracy.

It is too soon yet to assess his position in literature, but we cannot regard him as one whom a premature death prevented from fulfilling himself. His earlier work is better than the latter, which has not the same freshness and vigour. As the total of his books twelled, London tended to repeat himself, and became too didastio. He was too fluent and lacked the faculty of self-criticism, or at any rate of self-discipline. His sense of propor. j tion is sometimes defective. Thus in , “The People of the Abyss” be arraigns England most fervently for allowing such poverty and squalor. But what of the slums of New York or Chicago? Again, he is fond of engaging his brilliant young socialist hero in verbal combat with the pundits of the universities who are utterly annihilated. Rut the arguments they put up agains l socialism are so weak that a schoolboy would scorn to use them. Dialetical victories are easily won in such circumstances. Moreover, London’s art was purely objective. He could in most vivid fashion record, describe, elaborate things seen; he could not evolve. Ho had not imagination in the highest sense. He had always to be going about the world, replenishing his stock of material, visiting strange lands, making the acquaintance of strange peoples. Ho ( .ould not sit still and create as a Meredith or a Henry .Tames created. Yet with all its limitations his work possesses rare vitality and power, and much of it will surely live. Mrs London has performed her task very thoroughly, and if in some of her estimates of her husband’s writings judgment is coloured by affection, who can wonder?