White Fang

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Overview

"So he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering shadow of man's strength." —White Fang

A companion novel to Jack London's The Call of the Wild, White Fang is the story of a wild dog's journey toward becoming civilized in the Canadian territory of Yukon at the end of the nineteenth century. White Fang is characteristic of London's precise prose style and innovation use of voice and perspective. Much of the novel is written from the ...

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White Fang (Classic Starts Series)

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Overview

"So he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering shadow of man's strength." —White Fang

A companion novel to Jack London's The Call of the Wild, White Fang is the story of a wild dog's journey toward becoming civilized in the Canadian territory of Yukon at the end of the nineteenth century. White Fang is characteristic of London's precise prose style and innovation use of voice and perspective. Much of the novel is written from the viewpoint of the animals, allowing London to explore how animals view their world and how they view humans. White Fang relies on his instincts as well as his strength and courage to survive in the Yukon wilderness—despite both animal and human predators—and eventually comes to make his peace with man.

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• Includes searchable table of contents

Part wolf and part dog, orphaned White Fang relies on his instincts as well as his inborn strength and courage to survive in the Yukon wilderness despite both animal and human predators but eventually comes to make his peace with man.

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Editorial Reviews

Children's Literature - Judy Katsh
Jack London's story of the dog-wolf hybrid who is raised first as a wolf and later comes to know the world of dogs and humans is a riveting one. Teachers and other readers interested in growth and development will be especially fascinated by London's philosophy as repeatedly portrayed in the book as the "clay" of nature being "molded" by the environment of nurture. In this annotated version of the story, the original text is complete as written. Notes about the physical and social environment of the times during which the story takes place appear in wide margins. While many teachers of history and literature may find these connections helpful in their lesson planning and/or delivery; readers may find them distracting and intrusive. Oftentimes the marginal notes relate directly to events on that page of the text, but more often, they do not. Further, the detached reportorial style of these notes put them in direct conflict with the personal and emotional story that's being told. It's instructive to relate history and literature, but this may not be the best way to accomplish that interdisciplinary goal. 1999 (orig.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9789626343876
  • Publisher: Naxos Audiobooks Ltd.
  • Publication date: 11/1/2006
  • Series: Classic Fiction Series
  • Format: CD
  • Edition description: Abridged, 2 CDs, 3 hours
  • Product dimensions: 5.60 (w) x 4.90 (h) x 0.40 (d)

Meet the Author

Richard Adams is the author of the Carnegie Medal winning book Watership Down.
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Read an Excerpt

White Fang


By London, Jack

Aerie

Copyright © 1989 London, Jack
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780812505122

I
 
The Trail of the Meat
 
 
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 toward 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 sadness--a 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 life 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 vapor 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 birchbark, 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 offense 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 traveled 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 ardors 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.
An hour went by, and a second hour. The pale light of the short sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the still air. It soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul wailing, had it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. The front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man behind. And then, across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to the other.
A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needlelike shrillness. Both men located the sound. It was to the rear, somewhere in the snow expanse they had just traversed. A third and answering cry arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry.
"They're after us, Bill," said the man at the front.
His voice sounded hoarse and unreal, and he had spoken with apparent effort.
"Meat is scarce," answered his comrade. "I ain't seen a rabbit sign for days."
Thereafter they spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the hunting-cries that continued to rise behind them.
At the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin, at the side of the fire, served for seat and table. The wolf-dogs, clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness.
"Seems to me, Henry, they're stayin' remarkable close to camp," Bill commented.
Henry, squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with a piece of ice, nodded. Nor did he speak till he had taken his seat on the coffin and begun to eat.
"They know where their hides is safe," he said. "They'd sooner eat grub than be grub. They're pretty wise, them dogs."
Bill shook his head. "Oh, I don't know."
His comrade looked at him curiously. "First time I ever heard you say anythin' about their not bein' wise."
"Henry," said the other, munching with deliberation the beans he was eating, "did you happen to notice the way them dogs kicked up when I was a-feedin' 'em?"
"They did cut up more'n usual," Henry acknowledged.
"How many dogs 've we got, Henry?"
"Six."
"Well, Henry..." Bill stopped for a moment, in order that his words might gain greater significance. "As I was sayin', Henry, we've got six dogs. I took six fish out of the bag. I gave one fish to each dog, an', Henry, I was one fish short."
"You counted wrong."
"We've got six dogs," the other reiterated dispassionately. "I took out six fish. One Ear didn't get no fish. I come back to the bag afterward an' got 'm his fish."
"We've only got six dogs," Henry said.
"Henry," Bill went on, "I won't say they was all dogs, but there was seven of 'm that got fish."
Henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and counted the dogs.
"There's only six now," he said.
"I saw the other one run off across the snow," Bill announced with cool positiveness. "I saw seven."
His comrade looked at him commiseratingly, and said, "I'll be almighty glad when this trip's over."
"What d'ye mean by that?" Bill demanded.
"I mean that this load of ourn is gettin' on your nerves, an' that you're beginnin' to see things."
"I thought of that," Bill answered gravely. "An' so, when I saw it run off across the snow, I looked in the snow an' saw its tracks. Then I counted the dogs an' there was still six of 'em. The tracks is there in the snow now. D'ye want to look at 'em? I'll show 'm to you."
Henry did not reply, but munched on in silence, until, the meal finished, he topped it with a final cup of coffee. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said:
"Then you're thinkin' as it was--"
A long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from somewhere in the darkness, had interrupted him. He stopped to listen to it, then he finished his sentence with a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry, "--one of them?"
Bill nodded. "I'd a blame sight sooner think that than anything else. You noticed yourself the row the dogs made."
Cry after cry, and answering cries, were turning the silence into a bedlam. From every side the cries arose, and the dogs betrayed their fear by huddling together and so close to the fire that their hair was scorched by the heat. Bill threw on more wood, before lighting his pipe.
"I'm thinkin' you're down in the mouth some," Henry said.
"Henry..." He sucked meditatively at his pipe for some time before he went on. "Henry, I was a-thinkin' what a blame sight luckier he is than you an' me'll ever be."
He indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to the box on which they sat.
"You an' me, Henry, when we die, we'll be lucky if we get enough stones over our carcasses to keep the dogs off of us."
"But we ain't got people an' money an' all the rest, like him," Henry rejoined. "Long-distance funerals is somethin' you an' me can't exactly afford."
"What gets me, Henry, is what a chap like this, that's a lord or something in his own country, and that's never had to bother about grub nor blankets, why he comes a-buttin' round the God-forsaken ends of the earth--that's what I can't exactly see."
"He might have lived to a ripe old age if he'd stayed to home," Henry agreed.
Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. Instead, he pointed toward the wall of darkness that pressed about them from every side. There was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. Henry indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. A circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again a pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later.
The unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in a surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and crawling about the legs of the men. In the scramble one of the dogs had been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with pain and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. The commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a moment and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the dogs became quiet.
"Henry, it's a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition."
Bill had finished his pipe, and was helping his companion spread the bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid over the snow before supper. Henry grunted, and began unlacing his moccasins.
"How many cartridges did you say you had left?" he asked.
"Three," came the answer. "An' I wisht 'twas three hundred. Then I'd show 'em what for, damn 'em!"
He shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely to prop his moccasins before the fire.
"An' I wisht this cold snap'd break," he went on. "It's ben fifty below for two weeks now. An' I wisht I'd never started on this trip, Henry. I don't like the looks of it. I don't feel right, somehow. An' while I'm wishin', I wisht the trip was over an' done with, an' you an' me a-sittin' by the fire in Fort McGurry just about now an' playin' cribbage- that's what I wisht."
Henry grunted and crawled into bed. As he dozed off he was aroused by his comrade's voice.
"Say, Henry, that other one that come in an' got a fish--why didn't the dogs pitch into it? That's what's botherin' me."
"You're botherin' too much, Bill," came the sleepy response. "You was never like this before. You jes' shut up now, an' go to sleep, an' you'll be all hunkydory in the mornin'. Your stomach's sour, that's what's botherin you."
The men slept, breathing heavily, side by side, under the one covering. The fire died down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer the circle they had flung about the camp. The dogs clustered together in fear, now and again snarling menacingly as a pair of eyes drew close. Once their uproar became so loud that Bill woke up. He got out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb the sleep of his comrade, and threw more wood on the fire. As it began to flame up, the circle of eyes drew farther back. He glanced casually at the huddling dogs. He rubbed his eyes and looked at them more sharply. Then he crawled back into the blankets.
"Henry," he said. "Oh, Henry."
Henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking, and demanded, "What's wrong now?"
"Nothin'," came the answer; "only there's seven of 'em again. I just counted."
Henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid into a snore as he drifted back into sleep.
In the morning it was Henry who awoke first and routed his companion out of bed. Daylight was yet three hours away, though it was already six o'clock; and in the darkness Henry went about preparing breakfast, while Bill rolled the blankets and made the sled ready for lashing.
"Say, Henry," he asked suddenly, "how many dogs did you say we had?"
"Six."     
"Wrong," Bill proclaimed triumphantly.
"Seven again?" Henry queried.
"No, five; one's gone."
"The hell!" Henry cried in wrath, leaving the cooking to come and count the dogs.
"You're right, Bill," he concluded. "Fatty's gone."
"An' he went like greased lightnin' once he got started. Couldn't 've seen 'm for smoke."
"No chance at all," Henry concluded. "They jes' swallowed 'm alive. I bet he was yelpin' as he went down their throats, damn 'em!"
"He always was a fool dog," said Bill.
"But no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an' commit suicide that way." He looked over the remainder of the team with a speculative eye that summed up instantly the salient traits of each animal. "I bet none of the others would do it."
"Couldn't drive 'em away from the fire with a club," Bill agreed. "I always did think there was somethin' wroerial in this edition is copyright 1988 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
n

Continues...

Excerpted from White Fang by London, Jack Copyright © 1989 by London, Jack. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 106 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(83)

4 Star

(10)

3 Star

(6)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(7)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 106 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 9, 2009

    I Also Recommend:

    Great for young book lovers!

    This book was bought for my 9 year old son who LOVES to read. He wanted to read the classics just like me, but a lot of the wording was too hard. The classic starts series is perfect for kids who want to get into the classics without all the complicated wording. A great encouragment to keep the reading going! All the basics of the great originals in an easier to read format.

    16 out of 22 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 20, 2012

    Best book evr

    This is the best book i have evr red. It is so good i have red it 5 tmes and i liked it best the second time. Dont make it a joke!

    8 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 1, 2012

    You just dont wana stop reading this!!!!!!!

    White fang is an awesome book. Out af all the books i have read, this must be my favorite, and can b urs too

    4 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted November 24, 2011

    highly recommended-great for beginner readers to experience with a parent

    This book is easy to read and has lots of action. No matter what reading level your child is, this book is exciting when a child reads it or has it read to them and they understand what is written.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 13, 2012

    Good book

    Good book

    1 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2012

    Awesome

    You have to read this book it is awesome and outstanding outgoing addicting fun great moody animal-ishoause and cool-io!!!!!!!!!!!!

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 15, 2014

    Echo

    Okay bye

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 15, 2014

    Blazin

    * he watched* " Nice." * he got in his hunting crouch and spotted a large rabbit. He slowly crept close enough to jump on it. He pounced on the rabbit and snapped its neck. He looked at it and drug it into a hole which he later covered with moss and twigs* gtgtb bbt

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 2, 2014

    It's Good

    It's good.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 4, 2014

    Get a Free Ipad

    Kiss your hand and re-do this post three times. Then look under your pillow.

    I have this amazing classic. It is filled whith adventure. Read it!!
    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No really, it's that good.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 12, 2014

    Ð

    Doveheart sits in the middle of the cavern, her face set in a glare. Water drips slowly from longteeth hanging from the ceiling, falling into pools of murky liquid, which emanate a dim blue glow to contrast the pitch darkness of the tunnels. From the floor jut a few more longteeth, reaching towards the ceiling of the mountain's unnerving maw. <br>
    “What in the name of Starclan are you trying to say?” Doveheart's impatient meow bounces across the unseen cavern walls, directed at an uneven grey boulder in front of her. “Important messenger indeed. All you've said is nonsense. Why am I even down here? Just let me back to my Clan.” <br>
    {She's changed quite a bit,} Stormfire remarks to himself. {Much more irate than ever before - not to mention talking to a boulder.} <br>
    A whisper grates through the cavern, like the sound of trees creaking in slight winds. “Fire... ice... blood... fall...” <br>
    Doveheart's fur stands on end for a moment, as does Stormfire's, as a breeze sweeps through - slighter than a cat's breath, but colder than the most biting winds of winter. The blue glimmer shudders and dims. The mountain shakes... and then all returns to normal... <br>
    (Whoa! Best writing of mine in quite a while.)

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 12, 2014

    Iceshard

    Iceshard silently enters the cavern behind Stormfire, his ears straining forward to catch the conversation.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 29, 2014

    TO PORK AND LUNA FROM AKA

    Pork:hi my nmae is blackfire i prefer aka
    Luna:same do u believe in jesus if u do then go to jesus res 12 ill be there but my name will be changed to jesus173? read the text that say mi name on it jesus173?

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 22, 2014

    AKA

    Hi

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 19, 2014

    Darkfang

    The Master of Darkness padded through the forest. Darkfang sat down, and practiced using tangible darkness. Her eyes turned red, as they usually do when she conjures darkness. A tendril of tangible darkness curled around a tree branch, and broke it off. She turned off her power. "I didn't expect you to be able to use your powers." Said a voice behind. Darkfang turned around to find the same group of rouges that ki<_>lled her mentor. "You..." she began, darkness starting to form around her as her gray eyes turned red again. A black tom with green eyes, apparently the leader, walked up to Darkfang. "Your mother and her kits were Dark Masters, as well as you and your mentor, I cannot leave any weak Dark Masters alive." "How did you know about me, my mother, my siblings, and my mentor being Masters of Darkness?" Darkfang asked. The tom said "I am Shadowblood, your father."<p>"You are no father of mine! You are cruel and heartless!" Darkfang hissed. "All Dark Masters are destined to rule the clans." Shadowblood said. Soon, his eyes turned red and he was surrounded in darkness, too. Then he turned into a winged wolf, the rarest form a Dark Master can turn into. Shadowblood lashed out a dark tendril at Darkfang, wrapping her in it. It disabled all her powers, so she can't counterattack nor turn into a bat. Then Shadowblood attacked her brutally. Eventually, he stopped attacking Darkfang. "That ought to finish her off. C'mon, let's find a Clan to terrorize." Shadowblood said, turning back into a wolf. The rouge group walked off. Darkfang shakily stood up and limped to camp.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 14, 2014

    My son got this as a gift and loved it. I never read White Fang

    My son got this as a gift and loved it. I never read White Fang and did a quick read of a few chapters of the original that found for free online; then read this one through. This is a good book and I'm tempted to check out the original now. Only reason not 5 stars is that, in the original chapters I've read online and some google searches (nothing too deep), it appears that one character in the first chapter DIES (it strongly suggests that he dies anyway and since it is not graphically detailed not sure why it was not included here). I'm not sure what else could have been changed as I've never read anything but a few bits of the original so only 4 stars.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 7, 2014

    WhiteMoon's den

    A den underground den.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 6, 2014

    Wolfkit

    *pads in slowly* Frostkit... do you want to come share some juicy mouse with me and Moonkit? Plz?

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 25, 2014

    Pork

    Hi

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 6, 2014

    Mintviolet

    Sees the squirell nibble on a shrew and kills it quickly.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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