John Griffith Chaney, better known as Jack London, was an American novelist, journalist and activist. A pioneer of commercial fiction and American magazines, he was one of the first American authors to become an international celebrity and earn a large fortune from writing. He was also an innovator in the genre that would later become known as science fiction. London was part of the radical literary group "The Crowd" in San Francisco and a passionate advocate of animal rights, workers鈥� rights and socialism. London wrote several works dealing with these topics, such as his dystopian novel The Iron Heel, his non-fiction expos茅 The People of the Abyss, War of the Classes, and Before Adam. His most famous works include The Call of the Wild and White Fang, both set in Alaska and the Yukon during the Klondike Gold Rush, as well as the short stories "To Build a Fire", "An Odyssey of the North", and "Love of Life". He also wrote about the South Pacific in stories such as "The Pearls of Parlay" and "The Heathen".
The Road is an autobiographical memoir by Jack London, first published in 1907. It is London's account of his experiences as a hobo in the 1890s, during the worst economic depression the United States had experienced up to that time. He describes his experiences hopping freight trains, "holding down" a train when the crew is trying to throw him off, begging for food and money, and making up extraordinary stories to fool the police. He also tells of the thirty days that he spent in the Erie County Penitentiary, which he described as a place of "unprintable horrors," after being "pinched" (arrested) for vagrancy. In addition, he recounts his time with Kelley's Army, which he joined up with in Wyoming and remained with until its dissolution at the Mississippi River.
The Road by Jack London was published in 1907, years before George Orwell鈥檚 and decades before Jack Kerouac鈥檚 .
This compilation of stories and essays is gleaned from the remembrances of an older and more successful London, looking back on his days as a tramp and hobo. We learn about life aboard box car trains, running and evading the train conductors, time in prison for vagrancy and the ubiquitous begging and scamming for food.
Also detailed is 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 own (at age 18) experience as a part of Coxey鈥檚 Army of unemployed protesters in 1894. Most interesting to me was the clearly planted seeds of 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 later socialist ideological passions, growing from his humble perspective of a wayward soul on the roads of North America.
Not one of his better works, but very interesting in its own unique way.
Big Rock Candy Mountain ~~ written by Harry McClintock
Chorus: Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees The soda water fountain where the lemonade springs And the bluebird sings in that Big Rock Candy Mountain
On a summer day In the month of May A burly bum came ahiking Down a shady lane Through the sugar cane He was looking for his liking As he strolled along He sang a song Of the land of milk and honey Where a bum can stay For many a day And he won't need any money
Chorus:
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain The cops have wooden legs The bulldogs all have rubber teeth And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs The farmers' trees are full of fruit The barns are full of hay I want to go where there ain't no snow Where the sleet don't fall and the wind don't blow In that Big Rock Candy Mountain
~~ Sung by Burl Ives
Back in the 70s my friend Cathy and her boyfriend George took me to Glen Ellen, CA to Jack 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 Historial Park. The small wooden house where he lived was still on the land, and the stone Wolf House that he had been having built, had burned down just before they were to move into it. Its ruins remain. His wife Charmian wrote that "the razing of his house killed something in Jack, and he never ceased to feel the tragic inner sense of loss.鈥�
I picked up a copy of his credo while at the museum, and I kept it for many years:
鈥淚 would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.鈥�
Ah, to live like that, I thought.
Jack and Charmian began preparations to build another stone house on the land, but he died 3 years and 3 months after the fire on November 22, 1918. His health had been failing him for a while. He was just 40 years old. His wife saw to the construction of new house, The House of Happy Walls, and she lived in it until her death in 1955. It is this house that you see first when you come into the park. In it is the museum. Since that one visit, I had gone there often, sometimes alone, just to be there, to see it agaih, and sometimes I sat by their small lake.
While in the museum I read of his travels, I saw this souvenirs from the different islands, and I coveted it all. I had wished then that I had been his wife Charmian because she had traveled with him. Heck, I wished that I had been him. Ah, to sail the seas, to meet the natives of the various islands.
And then I saw his Socialist Party card. He had become one in 1890. This book was about his life as a hobo in 1894. It is political. There is a book out titled, The Radical Jack London.
He had become a hobo because he had the wanderlust, the desire to try it out, to jump the trains, see the U.S. and Canada. It sounded excitsing. So if you read a biography of him that says he did this because he was studying sociology, don鈥檛 believe it, he says.
His days as a hobo, while they sounded exciting, weren鈥檛 always so. It was dangerous. The shacks, as he called the men working the trains, the ones that fought to keep the hobos off, were dangerous. You could get beaten up, even killed. He played cat and mouse with them many a time. Perhaps that was exciting to him.
What surprised me and yet didn鈥檛 surprise me at all, was how they could pick a man up off the streets, or walking in the country, without any provocation. Vagrancy. Then that man would be thrown into jail and then sent to prison for 30 to 90 days. He was made to work hard before he got out.
They fed the prisoners, the new ones, bread and water. The men bartered when they could. An old timer in prison got better food, so if the old timer needed an article of your clothing, like your suspenders, he may trade you a piece of meat for them.
Jack London mentioned how you couldn鈥檛 see a lawyer during your quick trial, you could鈥檛 even send a letter out of the prison or receive one. When I think of how he was a socialist, I can see that this book had a message. One of our cruel prison system.
I thought back to`1962 when I first moved to Vacaville, CA to stay with my to be husband鈥檚 family. He had once lived in my home town of Paso Robles, CA when we met. I wanted to move close to him, and I was fresh out of high school, so I left home. One day he drove me into town, and while he was at the high school, I walked around town looking for work. Not finding any, I went back and sat in the car in the school parking lot to wait until school was out. Instead, the police came and took me down to the station. Vagrancy. I told them where I was staying and said that I had been looking for work. I was not a vagrant. They were bullies. They took me in one of their squad cars and let me out just outside of the city limits on the road going to my boyfriend鈥檚 mother鈥檚 home. I sat and waited for him to show up.
I have never since liked Vacaville鈥檚 police. I don鈥檛 even like Vacaville. In the next few days, I had a job at the A&W Root Beer Stand as a carhop. The same police men drove by and saw me. I smiled to myself, thinking that they could do nothing more to me. I had a job. Then I rented a house in the country.
London feared the police and ran from them even after he began going to college. Even though he had done nothing wrong. His fear was deep.
There was a chapter in this book where he talked about hopping trains, but I didn鈥檛 understand the lingo, so I missed out on some of what he was saying. Another chapter was about his knocking on doors looking for handouts. He said that as soon as you saw the person who answered the door, you had to have them sized up that quick, as to the story you would tell. And did he ever have sad stories. For one, his mother died of different ailments, depending on how he sized up the home owner. His father may have as well.
The hobos knew which towns to walk quietly though and which ones to leave alone altogether, because if you were caught in certain towns, it was 30 days or more. They wrote these notes on water towers, even notes saying who had been there and when and even where that person was headed. Jack tried to follow one hobo around whose nick name was similar to his. He just wanted to meet up with him, but he was either just behind him or in front of him. They never got to meet.
I am sure that there are better ways to travel, because this hobo life didn鈥檛 seem carefree to me. You could go hungry, freeze to death, get beaten, go to prison, and have what little you own stolen from you. Still, it would have been fun to have learned to hop a few trains.
Not your typical Jack London tale but very interesting and entertaining. It's about his life on the road and his experiences riding the rails as a hobo. A series of anecdotal tales of dodging conductors, railroad security, town sheriffs, and bumming meals while perfecting the art of lying.
What an interesting character this man was. He was a hobo, a seaman, a gold prospector, just to name a few. And he drew on all these life experiences to write some of the most successful novels of the early 20th century.
Posebnu slabost gajim prema ovim d啪epnim izdanjima 鈥濻vjetlosti鈥�, pre svega zbog ovih predivnih petpara膷kih ilustracija na koricama, a onda i zbog demokrati膷nosti izbora romana - od jugo 啪anrovskih ostvarenja preko klasike (prvi prevod Velikog Getsbija se pojavio u ovoj ediciji i to pod imenom ) do onda拧nje savremene knji啪evnosti (prvi prevodi Kriste Volf i Edne O Brajen).
A slabost galjim i prema D啪eku Londonu, poslednjoj mitskoj figuri ameri膷ke knji啪evnosti (uvek ra膷unam da devetnastovekovne figure Amerike poput Dikinsonove, Vitmena, Melvila i ekipe, izgledaju manje 鈥瀞tvarno鈥� od njihovih evropskih savremenika). Pojavio se tako niotkuda i samouk, i拧tancovao gomilu raznolikih knjiga i onda nestao u dimu opijuma.
鈥濽spomene skitnice鈥�, iliti 鈥濼he Road鈥� kako glasi u originalu (prevodilac je isti onaj koji je Getsbija preveo kao 鈥濻naga ljubavi"!), su memoarska proza o vremenu kada je osamnaestogodi拧nji London 啪iveo kao skitnica i pro拧ao 啪eleznicom put od 10.000 milja. Pripovedne celine su oblikovane manje epizodi膷no, a vi拧e tematski (kako sam prosio, kako sam besplatno putovao vozom, kako sam pre啪iveo zatvor i sl.). Pripovedanje je pravo Londonovsko, uzbudljivo i pustolovno, i dalje blisko 啪ivom pripovedanju uz, recimo, neku vatru. Nije najve膰i London, ali je tipi膷an. Hit the I ponovo da se vratim na ovo izdanje: petpara膷ke korice, komunisti膷ko ideolo拧ki podoban blurb: 鈥濷va knjiga je ujedno i reljefni prikaz te拧ke socijalne stvarnosti koja pritiskuje i otu膽uje siroma拧ne ljude 啪eljne rada, hljeba i mirnog 啪ivota鈥� i naposletku sam pripoveda膷 koji demanatuje blurb jugoslovenskog izdanja tvrde膰i da je njegov motiv da postane skitnica le啪ao u 啪elji za avanturom i prezir prema radu. U tom trojnom sadejstvu mo啪e da se predstave tri lica ova memoarske proze. Naime, lik osamnaestogodi拧njeg D啪eka Londona kao skitnice jeste neko ko je blizak pikarskoj tradiciji, on je lupe啪, ne mo啪e mu se verovati, superioran je u svojoj inteligenciji u odnosu na druge likove i urnebesno duhovit u pripovedanju svojih priklju膷enija. Naravno, tu je i London socijalista, nekad direktno nekad indirektno, ali uvek pod pla拧tom ironije (tipa, nemojte se 膷uditi 拧to sam krao hranu u zatvoru od drugih zatvorenika, to bogati van zatvora redovno 膷ine siroma拧nima). I, kona膷no, London kao zabavlja膷, onaj koji u autpoeti膷kom momentu insitira da je nau膷io ubedljivo da pripoveda tako 拧to je prosio i 拧to je od 鈥瀔valieta鈥� pri膷a direktno zavisilo da li 膰e uspeti da isprosi hranu na pragovima ku膰a 拧irom Amerike. To je London kao komercijalni autor koji balansira ona prva dva lica 鈥� ok ideologija, ok istina, ok umetnost ali ajde da zaradim lebac od middleclass tako 拧to 膰u pru啪im zabavnu pri膷u. Po膷etna re膷enica memoara zaslu啪uje da bude poznatija: Jo拧 i sada 啪ivi u dr啪avi Nevadi 啪ena koju sam jednom prilikom nekoliko dugih sati neprekidno, dosledno i bezo膷no lagao.
Jack London got off to a busy start in life. Born in 1876, before he took off from Oakland CA to be a 17-year-old hobo, he'd worked 12-hour days at a cannery, owned his own boat as an oyster pirate, and sailed to Japan on a sealing ship, among other things. By the time these tales of his adventures crossing the country by rail in 1893-94 were published in 1907, he was already famous for his novels Call of the Wild, The Sea Wolf, and White Fang.
The nine sketches are a mix of training manual for life riding the trains and anecdotes of London's own experiences among the horde of hoboes driven to the rails by the Panic of 1893. He covers in some detail the jargon, rules of the road, and physical techniques for jumping on and getting off moving trains, while evading the "shacks", i.e. brakemen, and other railroad crewmen, and explains the mindset necessary for successful begging for food and clothes at houses and on the street in between trains.
Generally not given to waxing eloquently about the vast swathes of the country he passed through, London was quite taken with Niagara Falls. Unfortunately, his visit resulted in a sentence of 30 days in the Erie County Penitentiary for vagrancy. His account of his arrest and trial has an almost humorous tone, but there's nothing funny about his time in the "Pen", and as corrupt and violent as he describes it being, he also confesses he's passing lightly over "unprintable" and unthinkable" horrors.
As a native Hawkeye, I found his description of travelling across Iowa with Kelly's Army, from Council Bluffs, on the Missouri River, to Keokuk, on the Mississippi, to be fascinating. The 2,000-strong Army of unemployed had jumped trains from California to Omaha, but the railroads said no more free rides. Following an unsuccessful effort to hijack a train, the Army headed east on foot and the plot thickened.
There's not really a narrative arc to The Road and it just ends, without much development or resolution along the way. For having already published "How I became a Socialist" in the March 1903 issue of The Comrade, London doesn't get very political in the book, either. He uses several racist terms for blacks, but otherwise doesn't express racist views.
The free LibriVox audiobook I listened to was a good choice for my daily walk, but there were a few mispronunciations.
4.5 Stars for The Road (audiobook) by Jack London read by Barry Eads.
This was a interesting part of Jack 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 life that I wasn鈥檛 aware of. In this book he tells stories about when he was a young man in the late 1800鈥檚, traveling around the country as a Hobo. There were many great adventures of him jumping on trains and getting arrested. It was fascinating to hear about the life he led before he became a famous author.
鈥滻 went on the road because I couldn鈥檛 keep away from it, because I hadn鈥檛 the price of the railroad fare in my jeans, because I was so made that I couldn鈥檛 work all my life on one same shift, because, well, just because it was easier to than not to.鈥�
Jack London was America鈥檚 original man of action writer. A generation before Hemingway became as famous for the life he led as for what he wrote, London had already blazed that trail. Jack London used the material gained from his adventure-packed life to power his writing. Outlaw oyster pirate, Klondike gold prospector, seal schooner sailor, war correspondent, socialist activist 鈥� all of these roles that he lived became grist for his writing. But perhaps the role that had the greatest impact on London as the most popular storyteller of his generation was his experiences crossing and recrossing the country as a young tramp riding the rails. The Road, written years afterward when he was an established writer, chronicles those crucial formative experiences.
In The Road, London shared fascinating stories of his life riding the rails. One chapter, Holding Her Down, details a single train ride where he continually outsmarted two shacks (railroad brakemen) and a conductor who were earnestly working in concert at every stop of the train to roust him off. He tells tales of run ins with bulls (cops), and of getting pinched and doing thirty days in prison in Buffalo. He tells a harrowing story of catching a ride on a locked down through train (a train with all doors locked with no stops so it could gain speeds of sixty miles per hour) while he was desperately clinging on its outside with too little purchase, death just inches away. He has a whole chapter about road kids 鈥� youths as young as thirteen who rode the rails together and formed dangerous, feral gangs who preyed on drunks and bindlestiffs (working hobos who could be counted on to have cash) with shocking and joyful violence. And he recounts his adventures traveling with Kelly鈥檚 Army, a division of the famous Coxey鈥檚 Army, riding rails, navigating rivers, and marching in an organized protests march against unemployment.
But most telling are his chapters about how he learned to survive on the road through learning the psychology of his countrymen. He learned how to lie strategically, to sum people up, learn how they saw him, and what story they needed to hear. He came to see himself as performing for his dinner. He wrote:
鈥滻t was fair exchange. I gave full value. Right royally I gave them entertainment. My coming to sit at their table was their adventure. An adventure is beyond price, anyway.鈥�
And he clearly viewed these lessons he learned to survive on the road as the basic building blocks of his craft 鈥�
鈥滻 have often thought that to this training of my tramp days is due much of my success as a story writer. In order to get the food whereby I lived, I was compelled to tell tales that rang true. At the back door, out of inexorable necessity, is developed the convincingness and sincerity lain down by all authorities on the short story.鈥�
So while The Road is far from 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 most famous or popular book, it may just be the most crucial one to understanding the popular writer he became. That鈥檚 in addition, of course, to being one of the earliest and best American road books, and being full of fascinating tales told well.
The 'Road' in question is the railroad - motor cars were almost unheard of when Jack London was travelling around America as a hobo. This is a fascinating look at a very different country. It's full of great characters and long-forgotten slang and exciting tussles with policemen and railroad employees.
The interesting thing about the book, for me, is that it works so well even though the story doesn't have much of a trajectory. It's really just a series of anecdotes about life as a hobo, from surviving a stint in jail to sneaking onto trains and staying on despite the brakemen trying to throw him off. The reason I kept reading was for the wonderful details, the vivid descriptions, the large characters, the tall tales and the wonderful insight into a world that seems very distant now. Highly recommended.
This was a great book. When I found the free e-book I didn't realize it was an autobiography until I was a few pages in, then did some research on it. That just made it better. Jack London has to be one of the most fascinating figures in American literature.
This slim book is a series of vignettes about the time he spent as a train-jumping hobo in his youth. It is a fantastic look into a long-past time and a unique culture. Many of the stories are funny, such as how he would win food or elude the bulls. Some inspire social outrage, like when he was imprisoned. The one that stuck with me the most concerned the gypsy camp.
If it offends you to see black people called "coons" and the dreaded N word, you might want to avoid this. Otherwise, I very highly recommend it.
The book gets four starts instead of five simply because I wish there'd been at least a one-paragraph epilogue explaining why he gave up the tramp life.
尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 The Road recounts episodes from his life as a hobo in the America of the 1890s. It brought to mind George Orwell鈥檚 , but with a distinctly American flavor. Four Stars.
Has to be by far one of the most interesting Non-fiction travel stories I have read. A classic needless to say; makes you want to jump on trains and travel across the US or the world for that matter.
This short classic tells about the portion of London's life when he was a hobo traveling through the US and Canda jumping trains. There were a few interesting bit but it was a tedious and dry read.
When he was a teenager, London decided, for the pure fact that the road was there, to become a hobo. Later, he compiled his wanderings into a series of essays, thus, The Road. These stories are wonderful, testament to the fact that London was something far beyond The Guy Who Wrote the Wolf Books. He spent 1892-1893 hopping trains across America and Canada, getting tossed in jail for a month in Erie, playing deadly train-hopping games with railroad employees trying to ditch him, stole boats, begged, stole, thieved, and lived an incredible year or two of villainy. He ended up in Kelly's Army and became a river pirate, alienating Kelly himself. London's reminiscences are fun, funny, and difficult to fathom in this age of screen-scream-mini-me-me-mes. This guy was 16, notorious for being an oyster poacher in Oakland, and decking freight trains in blizzards. All the more wonderful for pointing up the absurdity and lack of our "modern" life.
This is The Road before On the Road. It's funny and ugly and individualistic and crafty and bad and good and American and human.
I can't imagine what it's like to be so far over the edge, and then to come back.
"I became a tramp-well, because of the life that was in me, of the wanderlust in my blood that would not let me rest. Sociology was merely incidental; it came afterward, in the same manner that a wet skin follows a duckling. I went on 'The Road' because I couldn't keep away from it; because I hadn't the price of the railroad fare in my jeans; because I was so made that I couldn't work all my life on "one same shift"; because--well, just because it was easier to than not to".
London'谋n "serserilik" y谋llar谋n谋 kaleme ald谋臒谋 Demiryolu Serserileri, hem onu tan谋ma imkan谋 hem de s眉r眉kleyici sayfalar sunuyor. Okumas谋 olduk莽a keyifli, 枚zellikle sonlara do臒ru kitap tam anlam谋yla kendini buldu ve sayfalar hi莽 bitmesin istedim. London'谋n farkl谋 bir y枚n眉n眉 kendi a臒z谋ndan okumak g眉zel bir ayr谋cal谋k.
Jack London鈥櫮� yollara d眉艧眉ren 1893 krizi olmu艧. Japonya k谋y谋lar谋nda fok avc谋l谋臒谋 yapan gemide 莽al谋艧t谋ktan sonra 眉lkeye d枚nm眉艧 ve bir j眉t fabrikas谋nda ve bir elektrik santralinde yorucu i艧lerde 莽al谋艧t谋ktan sonra yollara d眉艧meye, d眉nyay谋 ke艧fetmeye karar vermi艧. Hobo oldu臒unda Jack London hen眉z on sekiz ya艧谋ndaym谋艧. Y眉k trenlerine ka莽ak olarak binip ya da y眉r眉yerek binlerce kilometre kat ederek Kuzey Amerika鈥檡谋 dola艧m谋艧. Jack London bu maceralar谋n谋 1907'de yay谋nlanan Yol鈥檇a anlatm谋艧. 鈥淒emiryolu Serserileri鈥�, 鈥淎莽lar Ordusu鈥� gibi adlarla 莽e艧itli kereler ve T眉rk莽eye 莽evrilen Yol鈥檜 bu kez 枚zg眉n ad谋yla, usta 莽evirmen Levent Cinemre鈥檔in T眉k莽esiyle okuyoruz (陌艧 Bankas谋 K眉lt眉r yay.). Cosmopolitan dergisinde tefrika edildikten sonra kitapla艧an Yol bir an谋 kitab谋. Jack London鈥檜n ilk gen莽lik 莽a臒lar谋nda ya艧ad谋klar谋n谋 枚臒reniyoruz. Tatl谋 dilli, keyifli, kolay okunan bir anlat谋mla Amerika Birle艧ik Devletleri'nin o zamana kadar ya艧ad谋臒谋 en k枚t眉 ekonomik buhran s谋ras谋nda, bir hobo olarak ya艧ad谋klar谋n谋 anlat谋rken hobolu臒un inceliklerini, bir hobonun ba艧谋na gelebilecek tatl谋 ve ac谋 艧eyleri de anlat谋yor. Tren 莽al谋艧anlar谋n谋, 枚zellikle hobolar谋 yakalamay谋 i艧 haline getirmi艧 frencileri ve polisleri atlatarak y眉k trenlerine binmek, trende yakalanmamak nas谋l m眉mk眉n olur an谋larla bezeyerek kaleme alm谋艧 Jack London. Yiyecek, giysi ve para nerelerde, hangi saatler dilenilir? Hangi kentlerin sakinleri hay谋rsever, hangi kentlerinkiler hobo d眉艧man谋d谋r. Tutuklad谋klar谋 hobo say谋s谋na g枚re maa艧 alan polislerden nas谋l ka莽谋l谋r, ellerine d眉艧眉ld眉臒眉nde nas谋l hikayeler uydurularak onlar谋 hobo olmad谋臒谋n谋za inand谋r谋rs谋n谋z gibi bir 莽ok pratik bilgi de var kitapta. Bir hobonun hayat谋nda, tutuklan谋p 15 saniye s眉ren ve kendini savunmak i莽in tek bir s枚zc眉k bile ettirmeden 30 g眉nden ba艧layan hapis cezalar谋 yedi臒i yarg谋lamalar da ka莽谋n谋lmaz bir kadermi艧. Jack London da serserilik nedeniyle 30 g眉n hapis cezas谋 yiyor ve hapishane g眉nlerini ayr谋nt谋l谋 olarak anlat谋yor. Onunki biraz 艧ansl谋 bir hapislikmi艧 ama yarg谋s谋z ceza yiyen hobolar谋n baz谋lar谋n谋n ta艧 ocaklar谋nda, 莽iftliklerde kar谋n toklu臒una zorla 莽al谋艧t谋r谋ld谋klar谋 da biliniyormu艧. 陌ronik bir durum ama Jack London鈥櫮眓 babas谋 da bir d枚nem yaklad谋臒谋 hobo say谋s谋na g枚re maa艧 alan bir polismi艧. Kelley'nin Ordusu鈥檔a kat谋lmas谋 da 枚nemli bir macera. 陌艧sizli臒i protesto etmek ve h眉k眉meti yeni i艧 alanlar谋 a莽maya zorlamak amac谋yla 1894鈥檛e 100 ki艧i Ohio鈥檇an ba艧kent Washington鈥檃 do臒ru y眉r眉y眉艧e ba艧l谋yor. Hobolar谋n da kat谋lmas谋yla y眉r眉y眉艧莽眉lerin say谋s谋 k谋sa s眉rede bini ge莽iyor. 脺lkeyi bir ba艧tan di臒erine y眉r眉yen grubun bir b枚l眉m眉n眉n ba艧谋nda "General" Charles T. Kelley varm谋艧. Bu grubun Kelley'nin Ordusu ad谋n谋 almas谋n谋n nedeni de bu. Jack London grubun nehir oyunca kendi yapt谋klar谋 ilkel sallarla seyahatini, nehir k谋y谋s谋ndaki kasaba ve kentlerde ya艧ayanlarla ili艧kileri anlat谋yor. Hoboluk ayn谋 zamanda 莽ok tehlikeli bir ya艧am bi莽imi, tren 莽al谋艧anlar谋n谋n ya da polisin eline d眉艧menin yan谋nda kendi aralar谋ndaki grupla艧malar ve kavgalar da kanl谋 ge莽iyormu艧. Bir trene atlamaya 莽al谋艧谋rken tekerleklerin alt谋nda kalmak, h谋zla giden trenden d眉艧mek, vagonlar aras谋nda s谋k谋艧mak ve so臒uk havalarda donarak 枚lmek gibi tehlikeler de var.
I鈥檝e enjoyed several other hobo accounts (such as Jim Tully's great Beggars of Life), and don鈥檛 know how this had escaped my notice for so long, but I enjoyed it so much I think it may kick off a Jack London binge for me. In these real-life adventures drawn from his tramping days during the depression years of the 1890s, London shares with the reader the fine art of lying and begging for food, the vicious skill of holding one鈥檚 own amidst the rough handling of wolfish road kids and predatory professional hobos, and the colorful language and customs of life . Throughout, London depicts himself as a romantic adventurer and protean trickster, but there is another journey underway here as well. He records a lesser-known historical chapter in which he joined an army of jobless tramps in a march on Washington D.C. to demand of a sort of proto-Public Works Administration 鈥� an experience that clearly had a big influence on 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 own Socialist views. London comes of age, maturing from a wayward adventure-seeker continually on-the-make and looking out only for his own interests to someone with a wider view of the world鈥檚 unfortunates and a social conscience. These views are reinforced by 尝辞苍诲辞苍鈥檚 experiences behind bars in a powerful passage that pre-figures Alexander Berkman鈥檚 great Prison Memoirs of an Anarchist. I hugely enjoyed this account, as I suspected I would when I chose this title to be the first full-length work to read on my Sony Reader. Not bad, and now I have several other London works in the public domain downloaded, including The Star Rover, which a number of ex-cons have recommended to me over the years.
Painfully boring. Poorly written. This happened, then this happened, then this happened. On and on for 100 pages. It's a shame that this is so bad because it is an interesting subject (train hopping, the life of a hobo) The reality is that it's been written about so much better, with so much more insight. This left me completely unmoved, it is filled with as much emotion as the instruction manual to my electric toothbrush. Good for you Jack London, you were a hobo for a few years when you were a teenager, big freaking deal. Avoid this book, instead check out the following: Hobo by Eddy Joe Cotton. Murder on the Rails by William G. Palmini Jr. Surviving on the Streets:How to go down without going out by Ace Backwards Evasion (Crimethinc collective) Bound for Glory by Woody Guthrie You Can't Win by Jack Black (Written in 1926 and reported to be William S. Burroughs' favorite book)
"E depois? Era uma p谩gina da vida, nada mais, e j谩 vi piores, bem piores. Tenho defendido (quem me ouve pensa que se trata de brincadeira) que o homem se distingue dos animais sobretudo pelo facto de ser o 煤nico a maltratar as f锚meas da mesma esp茅cie, algo de que nunca se pode acusar o lobo ou o cobarde coiote. Nem o c茫o, degenerado pela domestica莽茫o, faz tal coisa, porque nesse aspecto ainda conserva o instinto selvagem, ao passo que o homem perdeu a maior parte dos seus instintos selvagens... pelo menos, a maior parte dos bons instintos."
Three and a half stars. I hadn't been interested in reading any more hobo literature after "You Can't Win" - it just didn't seem like anything had a chance against Jack Black. However, Jack London's stories of tramping are definitely worth reading, and I'm glad I gave this book a chance. I especially recommend this one if you are interested in hobo terminology; by the time you get through the book, you will have learned a bunch of the lingo for train-hopping and other hobo activities.
While it's called "The Road" it should really be called "The Rails" since London hopped trains more than walked (and there was no mention of hitchhiking--because this was written in 1894! I kept thinking it was during the Depression but nope.)
He apologizes for all the "stories" he told to get food and says it was all good practice for this writing career. Early in the book he makes the comment that the poor are more generous than the rich.
He explains all the lingo of hobos. Even I knew what "rolling a stiff" was! Hard to imagine that phrase has been around for 130 years! They also had shorthand on train water towers so they could keep track of each other. Other hobo markings--
Bet the officials at the "Erie County Pen" had some explaining to do. He wrote a chapter about how horrible it was and all the layers of graft.
Jack London's true tales of badassary as a hobo riding the rails, getting rolled by bulls and making short-lived acquaintances during the great economic depression of the 1890s.
Not exactly a thriller this one but London's experience-based critique of the place of the poor in society--and description of the society of the poor and desperate risk takers riding the rails and living by their wits--is as apropos today as it ever was. A document of humanity seeking to reclaim the autonomy to go where they please and live as they can, a struggle that continues today.
Quite interesting, alas, only up to the prison part; after that it becomes repetitive, boring, and just plain silly and impossible. A band of hoboes lording it over a helpless city 鈥� please. The style is great, energetic and springy, bordering on purple (good purple), but what it mainly serves is the endless boasting about riding trains for free and being healthy. It makes for nervous reading; the style promises grand things, but doesn鈥檛 deliver.
There is also a distinct stink of racism, and a certain warmth towards eugenic ideas. There is no sexual activity anywhere in sight, which is hugely suspicious. The life in prison is handled very delicately, despite the exclamations. Although:
鈥淸鈥 man-handling was merely one of the very minor unprintable horrors of the Erie County Pen. I say 鈥渦nprintable锟斤拷锟�; and in justice I must also say 鈥渦nthinkable鈥�. They were unthinkable to me until I saw them, and I was no spring chicken in the ways of the world and the awful abysses of human degradation. It would take a deep plummet to reach bottom in the Erie County Pen, and I do but skim lightly and facetiously the surface of things as I there saw them.鈥�
In a word, irritating. But:
鈥淭he whole prison was covered by a network of lines of communication. And we who were in control of the system of communication, naturally, since we were modeled after capitalistic society, exacted heavy tolls from our customers. It was service for profit with a vengeance, though we were at times not above giving service for love.鈥�
I am still on the fence about London. But he can tell a story. And that was what stood out to me throughout this book - everything hinged on his skill at storytelling. The way way he describes life as a hobo is one of learning how to read what story his audience will believe and spinning it so they give him something of themselves. He says he did some of his best work on the road. I couldn't help thinking of Huck Finn. Or even Ed Ricketts ( Cannery Row, John Steinbeck). It actually made me wonder if he wasn't just continuing in that tradition - spinning us a tale, singing for his supper. He's someone I have difficulty considering a reliable narrator. But it's interesting! Riding the rails, too, was all about being a "character" and having a reputation. Did this stuff really happen? I don't know. But I'm with Ricketts, I give credit for a good story whether it's true or not.