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Jump to ratings and reviews. Want to read. Rate this book. The Valley of the Moon. Jack London. A road novel 50 years before Kerouac, The Valley of the Moon traces the odyssey of Billy and Saxon Roberts from the labor strife of Oakland at the turn of the century through central and northern California in search of beautiful land they can farm independently. Loading interface About the author. Jack London 6, books 6, followers. John Griffith Chaney , better known as Jack London , was an American novelist, journalist, and social 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 died November 22, , in a sleeping porch in a cottage on his ranch. The grave is marked by a mossy boulder. Write a Review. Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book! Community Reviews. Search review text. Displaying 1 - 30 of reviews. If you were to read any book by Jack London, this is the one. The book may have been written almost one hundred years ago, but all the issues are still very real and very applicable. It is a moving story and very refreshing. Emiliya Bozhilova. Едно обикновено, но упорито момче среща красиво и умно момиче. В големия град, където всеки от двамата се слива ежедневно с още стотици и хиляди безименни жители. На пръв поглед много различни един от друг, те са различни и от вече униформените жители на големия град. И в двамата все още е жив зовът на природата с нейната красота, покой и хармония, както и с нейните бури и предизвикателства. И в двамата бушува духът на старите пионери, преодолявали огромни разстояния и трудности, за да достигнат своето кътче обетована земя. Обетована земя обаче в града с неговите спарени фабрики, кръчми и гета, липсва. И тук започва тяхната история. Те ще изстрадат големия град с всяко едно от грозноте му лица и с цялата му несправедливост, преди истински и неразривно да открият първо себе си, после другия и накрая любовта и свободата. Зората на ти век е предвестник на онази безжалостна урбанизация и индустриализация, която ще промени и атомизира безвъзвратно цели генерации и общества. Billy: Hello. I enjoy talking about my ancestors, and how white they were, and what good stock they were, and how much they suffered. Saxon: I enjoy talking about how they came here before these other dirty immigrants, and are therefore way more awesome. Also how my form and figure reflect the old stock. Billy: We should get married, and talk about this all the time. Saxon: Yay! Billy: Uh oh. Billy: Never! I would rather take in boarders and borrow money and see my wife wander the town trying to capture stray seafood than bear the shame of my woman working! Billy: Yay! Billy: Slangedy slang racism slang. A farm we can farm! Saxon: I will hire some convicts, which freaks me out even though my husband has been to jail too. High five! Like our ancestors. Except the part where they wrecked the farmland. The End Seriously, just read the songs about abalone. The rest I have given you here. E se non la trovassimo, poco importa: continueremo a divertirci come ci siamo divertiti finora, da quando abbiamo lasciato Oakland. E soprattutto, Billy… non ci alieneremo mai a furia di lavorare, vero? Siamo ad Oakland, California. Colpo di fulmine: lei operaia in una stireria, lui ex pugile ed ora carrettiere. E spiritualmente lo era davvero. Un punto di partenza? Una specie di stazione ferroviaria, uno scalo del ferry-boat. Viaggiano e osservano un mondo che non riescono ad accettare per il loro attaccamento al vecchio ceppo, quello dei pionieri, quello della razza bianca. Accampiamoci e facciamo una bella nuotata. Qui il sogno di London si realizza in un mondo che ha quasi del fantastico. Romanzo che ho letto con grande interesse anche se mi ha deluso con quel suo essere un proclama della razza bianca, con i suoi risvolti ingenui ed anche nella parte finale I miei pregiudizi letterari hanno anche questo risvolto. Daniel Villines. While relying on fiction for historical information is a risky business, good contemporaneous fiction can preserve the substance of its characters at the time of their existence. I would consider The Valley of the Moon to be such a book in that the nature of its two main characters, Saxon and Billy, are honestly preserved. For the last hundred years, they have been frozen in time, coming to life in the eyes of the reader every so often. It left the winners of capitalism multiple hand-holds with which to manipulate masses of people with feelings of pride and honor while working away their lives for subsistence wages. It shut out the idea that capitalism may owe something to the society that allows it to flourish. And it blamed other cultures for problems that such a limited education brings upon itself. Sound familiar? When London wrote this book, he was immersed in an American culture that accepted these human characteristics as the norm. That is where the value lies in The Valley of the Moon. When we do, we can see that we have come a long way in realizing the benefits of cross-cultural interactions and the advancements that an education based in science and reason, rather than one filled with emotional hand-holds for others to manipulate, can achieve. Given this window into the past that still illuminates our present, The Valley of the Moon holds its relevance. But until America can put the Saxons and Billies behind us, The Valley of the Moon is an honest look at the worst that America Americans can be, which makes it an interesting book for the foreseeable future. Fu amore a prima lettura. Di Jack avevo letto diversi libri in edizioni per ragazzi - Il figlio del sole, La figlia delle nevi, etc. E dalla scoperta di Hemingway. Dopo, per tantissimo tempo, ho avuto il terrore che mi potesse capitare. Anche se non succedeva. Ma forse per questo ho scelto di scrivere per soldi e non per 'piacere'. Per allontanare per sempre QUEL momento, che secondo entrambi prima o poi sarebbe arrivato. Per non correre il rischio di scrivere libri mediocri. Se ci si mette anche la lettura di Francis S. Fitzgerald …. Un luogo dove poter essere di nuovo 'americani' e vivere lo spirito di frontiera. JL riesce a tenere insieme, in un universo narrativo meravigliosamente descritto, le lotte sindacali e i combattimenti di boxe fino alla dipendenza da John Barleycorn, la condizione operaia e quella femminile, la sua amatissima versione di superuomo con la poetica del tramp, fino a qualche puntata in barca e in libreria! Riesce a ricreare tanti piccoli Jack in ogni personaggio di contorno, lasciando a Saxon il pensiero alto sulla loro personalissima quest. Un libro con parentesi attualissime ancora oggi, la descrizione dei partiti di sinistra una vocazione alla frammentazione mai persa , il confronto con gli immigrati, la dinamica del lavoro salariale. E tutte le volte mi reinnamoro di Jack. Деница Райкова. Author 80 books followers. Джек Лондон - 'Лунната долина', изд. А не исках, толкова не исках да си отивам оттам. Може би звучи банално и клиширано, но има книги, които те отвеждат в отдавна изгубени светове. В едни времена на може би наивна вяра в по-доброто бъдеще, в едни времена, когато чувството, че всичко тепърва предстои не е просто лъжливо усещане, с което залъгваме себе си, когато по някаква причина нещата не вървят. Мислех си, че може би времето, когато е трябвало да прочета тази книга, е вече отминало, и че сега тя ще ми се стори наивна, романтична, може би дори на моменти сладникава. Опасенията ми не се оправдаха - и е толкова хубаво да установиш, че си се излъгал точно за такова нещо. Със смущение установих, че не знам точно кога е писана книгата и кога се развива действието. Ясно ми беше обаче, че най-важните, 'изграждащите' периоди от създаването и установяването на заселниците в Щатите са вече отминали. Минала е и Гражданската война Но Били и Саксън не знаят това. И мисля, че това, което породи симпатията и топлотата ми към тях, беше именно тази тяхна чистота и невинност, да не кажа 'наивност'. Знаех, че това, което си представят, няма как да стане точно по мечтания от тях начин. И хем ми беше мъчно, че самите те сякаш не го знаят, хем ми беше мило, че дори тогава все още има такива невинни души. И се чувствах съпричастна с тях, сякаш вървях с тях по прашните пътища, сякаш изживявах всяка тяхна малка радост, всеки неуспех и разочарование. А тяхната мечта за Лунната долина беше едно от най-красивите неща, които съм чела. Сигурно всеки има един такъв свой блян за място, където би се чувствал безкрайно щастлив, една такава своя 'обетована земя' или 'благословена страна', която живее само в мечтите му - и само понякога някои щастливци я намират. А аз исках Били и Саксън да намерят своята Лунна долина. И когато това стана, ме обзе леко и радостно чувство - все едно самата аз бях пристигнала на мечтано, сънувано, бленувано място. Сигурно някога, някъде преди години в часовете по американска история съм чувала за всички тези работнически бунтове и стачки. Само че и аз като Били и Саксън виждах и търсех най-хубавото дори в историческите факти и от тези уроци не беше останало много в паметта ми. Сега прочетеното едва ли ще се изтрие - то така е вплетено в останалата част от сюжета, че е трудно да се забрави. И друго ме впечатли - отношенията между хората. И то не онези отношения в града, където 'всеки гледа за себе си'. А онези, другите, в провинциалните селски райони, където всеки е готов да помогне на онези, които имат нужда от съвет и помощ. А краят Случи се най-после това, което очаквах през цялата книга. И дори не зная дали трябва да го наричам наистина 'край', защото всъщност загатва за ново начало. Ново и щастливо начало в Лунната долина. За книги като 'Лунната долина' няма възраст. Те са истински, човешки книги. От онези, към които посягаме, когато се уморим от всички нови книги и автори, от 'модерния' си уж по-лесен, а всъщност понякога излишно усложняван живот. И тогава за малко, съвсем за малко, отиваме да съберем сили и вяра там - в Лунната долина. The Valley of the Moon was written in , three years before he died at the age of Billy and Saxon are the main characters who are newly married and who struggle to keep afloat in rough times. Billy is a teamster and is also a popular amateur boxer when Saxon meets him, but he explains he has given it up because of the low life crowds who come to see the fights—they want a blood bath and not a sport. Saxon works in a laundry and is ready to quit her job as soon as they marry, and she does. Billy ends up in prison and Saxon does everything she can to stay alive. Halfway through the book, just before Billy is released from prison, she comes to realize that they do not have to stay in Oakland, but they can start an adventure and leave. The second part of the book is the story of their adventure, their pilgrimage. Even though they nothing about farming, they decide they will find the perfect place to farm. They meet many people along the way and learn things like how to plow, how to finance horse trading, how to draw customers to the market, and many other simple things like cooking a steak and washing woolens. All things they never would have known about living in the city. And it does! The book is more complicated than this review. It deals with racial consciousness, socialism, feminism, immigration and westward expansion—each a topic worth exploring separately. Native Californians can really appreciate this book, as can those who are interested in the history of California at this time. I liked the second part of the book much better than the first part. There was so much description and so many fights and so many setbacks, that I just got tired of it all. Chris Shank. Jack London never fired blanks. Live to the fullest! He took too long telling the story. The plot became too swollen with needless details about how his characters were outsmarting everybody else. Of course, to be fair, it was written as a kind of manual for people in his time to know how to escape their situation. They can write their own reviews and give him 5 stars if they want to. So, the protagonists in this story were Californian urbanites, mired in hand-to-mouth living, and finally having their financial Achilles-heel snipped by a union strike that embroils them in riots, incarceration, and an widening distance from each other in their marriage. No, I love you more! Everything is so perfect. Sickeningly so. Come on, London! Send a plague or something! So, half-way through the book it gets really interesting. Their neighbors are afraid, and people are getting stalked and killed over the scarcity of employment. Then suddenly, struck with a new vision of freedom, Saxon and Billy let go of their choked, wheezing pittance of the city-life, and go on the road with just their backpacks and a little bit of cash. To be sure, initially there appears to be some white-supremacy overtones in the story, but this actually turns into high praise for Hispanics and Asians who are smart, hard workers and have progressed further than whites because of their ingenuity and courage…two qualities London extols above all others. So, was he really a supremacist, or merely calling for whites to catch up to their hardworking brothers-from-other-mothers? But I have to hand it to this heroine; she was a boss! A master of herself and others. She would fight her way out of the trap… It was the stupid that remained and bowed their heads to fate. Such a powerful example of a proud and noble woman. Geez, thanks Mr. But I still love him. Overall a good story, good points; just took too long. Лондон настолько точен в своих описаниях и настолько филигранен в обращении с придуманными событиями, что возникает ощущение, будто смотришь фильм, снятый высококлассным режиссёром. Каждый эпизод на своём месте, а описания внутреннего и внешнего мира героев настолько гармоничны, что чувствуешь каждый вздох и видишь каждый жест. Особенно меня впечатлили мини-сценки, играющие ключевую роль в поворотах сюжета в новые русла, вроде того момента, когда Саксон, чуть помедлив, бросает пятидолларовую монетку огромная для неё сумма! Эти эпизоды написаны так точно, что внутренняя борьба душевных противоречий не может не вызывать эмоций, как и образ главной героини, превращающейся из наивной девчонки в умудрённую опытом, но не потерявшую надежды молодую женщину, Ну и, кроме того, Лондон приятно удивил отсутствием каких-либо иллюзий относительно человека в общем и американского народа в частности. В книге много злой иронии, даже обиды на ленивых и трусливых соотечественников, заботящихся лишь о том, чтобы потуже и побыстрее набить собственный карман, а там — хоть потоп. Чувствуется безграничная любовь автора к своей стране, но не современной Америке капиталистов, а светлая грусть по романтике путешествий пионеров, по тем могиканам, изошедшим эту землю вдоль и поперёк. Вряд ли Лондон смог бы так ёмко и образно описать тоску Саксон по былым временам, если бы сам не чувствовал чего-то похожего, но вымышленные герои хороши тем, что для них всегда можно написать счастливый финал. Но несмотря на то, что примерно с середины романа становится очевидно, что поиски Билла и Саксон всё же увенчаются успехом, интерес не пропадает. Наоборот, с каждой новой прочитанной страницей всё сильнее хочется, чтобы книга не кончалась, ведь вместе с ней могут закончиться и тот широкий простор, и та романтика безрассудных путешествий к своей мечте, которые подарил своим читателям Джек Лондон. Author 4 books 3 followers. That said, it is fascinating to read a book set in Oakland in the early s, reading about familiar places and streets is great for the imagination. Of course, the main characters wanting to quit city life and have a farm in the country speaks to me particularly Then there are the plays, poetry, and non-fiction. He certainly kept himself busy. This novel The Valley of the Moon is a story of a working-class couple, Billy and Saxon Roberts, struggling laborers in Oakland at the Turn-of-the-Century, who leave city life behind and search Central and Northern California for suitable farmland to own. It begins in a laundry where there are lots and lots of tables with lots and lots of irons on them with piles and piles of clothing being ironed by lots of women. I hate ironing. I could have stopped reading then. This just reminded me of four shirts and a blanket I was planning to iron Saxon has to work at this place every single day, then she has to go home where she lives with her brother and his awful wife. No wonder she wants to get away. Then there is Billy Roberts, he is a prizefighter, okay he was a prizefighter, now he is a teamster. But just him once being a prizefighter is exciting, I have no idea why. And then Saxon and Billy meet at a dance: She slightly moved her hand in his and felt the harsh contact of his teamster callouses. The sensation was exquisite. He, too, moved his hand, to accommodate the shift of hers, and she waited fearfully. She did not want him to prove like other men, and she could have hated him had he dared to take advantage of that slight movement of her fingers and put his arm around her. He did not, and she flamed toward him. There was fineness in him. He was neither rattle-brained, like Bert, nor coarse like other men she had encountered. For she had had experiences, not nice, and she had been made to suffer by the lack of what was termed chivalry, though she, in turn, lacked that word to describe what she divined and desired. And he was a prizefighter. The thought of it almost made her gasp. Yet he answered not at all to her conception of a prizefighter. He had said he was not. She resolved to ask him about it some time if Yet there was little doubt of that, for when a man danced with one girl a whole day he did not drop her immediately. Almost she hoped that he was a prizefighter. There was a delicious tickle of wickedness about it. Prizefighters were such terrible and mysterious men. In so far as they were out of the ordinary and were not mere common workingmen such as carpenters and laundrymen, they represented romance. Power also they represented. They did not work for bosses, but spectacularly and magnificently, with their own might, grappled with the great world and wrung splendid living from its reluctant hands. Some of them even owned automobiles and traveled with a retinue of trainers and servants. And yet, there were the callouses on his hands. That showed he had quit. She certainly cares more about the prizefighting than I ever would. Do you get that? Look at that! Your wife. Where are my three pairs? They rent a cottage of four rooms for ten dollars a month. I liked this part, it made me laugh: By three in the afternoon the strain of the piece-workers in the humid, heated room grew tense. Elderly women gasped and sighed; the color went out of the cheeks of the young women, their faces became drawn and dark circles formed under their eyes; but all held on with weary, unabated speed. The tireless, vigilant forewoman kept a sharp lookout for incipient hysteria, and once led a narrow-chested, stoop-shouldered young thing out of the place in time to prevent a collapse. Saxon was startled by the wildest scream of terror she had ever heard. The tense thread of human resolution snapped; wills and nerves broke down, and a hundred women suspended their irons or dropped them. With the scream, Mary crouched down, and the strange creature, darting into the air, fluttered full into the startled face of a woman at the next board. This woman promptly screamed and fainted. Into the air again, the flying thing darted hither and thither, while the shrieking, shrinking women threw up their arms, tried to run away along the aisles, or cowered under their ironing boards. She was furious. Some woman who could not see the cause of the uproar, out of her overwrought apprehension raised the cry of fire and precipitated the panic rush for the doors. Saxon had been merely startled at first, but the screaming panic broke her grip on herself and swept her away. Though she did not scream, she fled with the rest. When this horde of crazed women debouched on the next department, those who worked there joined in the stampede to escape from they knew not what danger. In ten minutes the laundry was deserted, save for a few men wandering about with hand grenades in futile search for the cause of the disturbance. The forewoman was stout, but indomitable. Swept along half the length of an aisle by the terror-stricken women, she had broken her way back through the rout and quickly caught the light-blinded visitant in a clothes basket. But Saxon was angry with herself, for she had been as frightened as the rest in that wild flight for out-of-doors. They live in the country. That was what was the matter with this one. It was only a bat. Bergstrom faint? And it only touched her in the face. Why, it was on my shoulder and touching my bare neck like the hand of a corpse. No bullying nor entreating of the forewoman could persuade the women to return to work. They were too upset and nervous, and only here and there could one be found brave enough to re-enter the building for the hats and lunch baskets of the others. When I was a little girl, we would be playing out in the yard and I can still hear my mother calling out the kitchen door for me to put my hands over my head and hide my hair, it was getting dark and the bats were coming out, and bats always fly for your hair. It never made sense to me. There were no more trips to the moving picture shows, scrap meat was harder to get from the butcher, there was no longer fresh fish for Friday. We are told that everywhere was a pinching and scraping, a tightening and shortening down of expenditure. Everywhere was more irritation, everyone became angered with one another, with the children, with your best friends, and your family. There are now scabs, and the scabs are being beaten up by the strikers. Why was it, they wondered, people have to live in cities? I have no idea. Me too. Then came this: It began quietly, as the fateful unexpected so often begins. Children, of all ages and sizes, were playing in the street, and Saxon, by the open front window, was watching them and dreaming day dreams of her child soon to be. One of the children pointed up Pine Street toward Seventh. All the children ceased playing, and stared and pointed. Saxon, leaning out, saw a dozen scabs, conveyed by as many special police and Pinkertons, coming down the sidewalk on her side of the street. They came compactly, as if with discipline, while behind, disorderly, yelling confusedly, stooping to pick up rocks, were seventy-five or a hundred of the striking shopmen. In the hands of the special police were clubs. The Pinkertons carried no visible weapons. The strikers, urging on from behind, seemed content with yelling their rage and threats, and it remained for the children to precipitate the conflict. From across the street came a shower of stones. Most of these fell short, though one struck a scab on the head. The man was no more than twenty feet away from Saxon. He reeled toward her front picket fence, drawing a revolver. With one hand he brushed the blood from his eyes and with the other he discharged the revolver. A Pinkerton seized his arm to prevent a second shot, and dragged him along. The scabs and their protectors made a stand, drawing revolvers. From their hard, determined faces—fighting men by profession—Saxon could augur nothing but bloodshed and death He was sinking down, when he straightened himself to throw the revolver into the face of a scab who was jumping toward him. Then he began swaying, at the same time sagging at the knees and waist. Slowly, with infinite effort, he caught a gate picket in his right hand, and, still slowly, as if lowering himself, sank down, while past him leaped the crowd of strikers he had led. It was battle without quarter—a massacre. There were curses and snarls of rage, wild cries of terror and pain. Mercedes was right. These things were not men. They were beasts, fighting over bones, destroying one another for bones. She saw Pinkertons, special police, and strikers go down. One scab, terribly wounded, on his knees and begging for mercy, was kicked in the face. Anything could happen now. Up Pine street, from the railroad yards, was coming a rush of railroad police and Pinkertons, firing as they ran. While down Pine street, gongs clanging, horses at a gallop, came three patrol wagons packed with police. The strikers were in a trap. The only way out was between the houses and over the back yard fences. The jam in the narrow alley prevented them all from escaping. A dozen were cornered in the angle between the front of her house and the steps. And as they had done, so were they done by. No effort was made to arrest. They were clubbed down and shot down to the last man by the guardians of the peace who were infuriated by what had been wreaked on their brethren. And because he is drinking, he starts fighting, and because he beats up the wrong person he ends up in jail. And because he is in jail Saxon is all alone, and what does she do? She plans their escape from Oakland, she plans their finding their own farm, their own valley of the moon, and Billy agrees to go. The landlord, standing at the gate, received the keys, shook hands with them, and wished them luck. Get in on the ground floor. When you can spare send me along that small bit of rent. Inside the roll were changes of underclothing and odds and ends of necessaries. Outside, from the lashings, depended a frying pan and cooking pail. In his hand he carried the coffee pot. Saxon carried a small telescope basket protected by black oilcloth, and across her back was the tiny ukulele case. And the best of it is we are going camping. We are! He stole a glance at Saxon. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glowing. You made me think of them. Taking a vacation and seeing the country. Think of the fun! Kristie fabk. I read this book in highschool and absolutely fell in love with it. Definetly a good read! Re-read in Loved it as much this time around as the first time around! The characters and their journey really spoke to me! Rebecca Rosenberg. Author 6 books followers. Betsy D. I have mixed feelings about the style, but if I could simply say 'this book is years old', I could go with it and enjoy it as a novel. Bill is a respected semi-pro boxer who works as a teamster drives horses for a day job. When his union goes on strike there is a lot of violence, which on one level he relishes because he enjoys hitting people. But he goes downhill, due to his pride and his despair at not being able to provide for his wife. After a month in jail ends, his wife says they must leave Oakland and find a way to prosper in the countryside. They travel on foot as far south as Carmel, as far north as the Rogue River Valley in Oregon having somewhat improbable adventures , and then make their way to the Valley of the Moon, just north of Sonoma, CA. They reach it on page ! I was hoping to read about the history or early days of the area, and finally in the last 50 pages I do. They have learned a lot from people they met on their travels, and parley that into success. I hardly know what to make of the attitudes in this novel, other than that it frequently made me uneasy. London was a socialist, at least part of his life, and that shows in the novel, but his darling couple end it by figuring out how to gouge money out of others who need their services, and are making plans to sell water to the town of Glen Ellen. Then, their conversation about people of various ethnicities whom they encounter, uses every rough term available. And Bill soon joins his wife, whose first name is Saxon, in feeling inordinately proud of their Angle-Saxon and wagon-train stock. However, most of what London says about the various people, such as Portuguese growing fruit around Antioch, Dalmatians farming in the Paharo Valley, Chinese workers they hire for their farm in VofM, is highly respectful of their enterprise, highly-developed skills in farming, and their intelligent ways of obtaining land. And the underlying ethos is that everyone should have a chance, which London shows the competitiveness of capitalism makes unlikely, at best. This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers. Show full review. Beth Cato. Author books followers. Jack London can write. His characters are nuanced, his descriptions gorgeous. His two lead characters, Saxon and Billy, are interesting. Billy in particular evolves through the course of the book. It seriously is a theme, too, not a one-off use of racist slang. It comes up repeatedly that Saxon and Billy, being the stock of original white pioneers who suffered mightily on their treks to California, deserve to live good lives. They are repeatedly indignant that new immigrants from Portugal, China, Dalmatia, and other places have money and land, even as it is acknowledged that entire families have worked hard to earn that. It is blatant throughout. He turned to Saxon. The book would be more streamlined without it, in truth. Saxon is a compelling lead, a woman who works hard and strives to save her husband, Billy, as he falls into drunken despair when his union goes on strike. That episode is artfully done, as pro-union London shows the devastation of strikes and the horrible things endured by scabs who are just trying to survive. Lots of nuance there. Without going into spoilers, Saxon and Billy end of exploring a lot of northern California and Oregon, and that part is especially intriguing and helped my research. I was contemplating 3. Perry Whitford. Working class, proto-Beat Generation epic, fifty years before Kerouac and company, set in Oakland during the first years of the 20th century. Saxon Brown, who works in a laundry sweatbox, and Billy Roberts, a teamster and occasional prizefighter, have a whirlwind romance then struggle to get by against a backdrop of the tensions between capital and labor, which result in strikes and hardships. They all teach Saxon and Billy some valuable lessons about life. And farming. For the second half of the novel, where their metaphorical quest to find the Valley of the Moon begins in earnest, is both a lament and call to arms aimed at American farmers, who London berates for ruining the land and losing it to immigrants, who make better use of it. The characters are just too likeable for that, I really felt like I knew them by then,and wanted to keep knowing them until the end. Boring and sappy. Nothing but a cheesy, too drawn out story about two naive married people. It was a bit more interesting while they lived in Oakland but once they began to travel it just got too cheesy. The main characters lacked depth and acted, thought, and spoke like children. Finally, enough was enough. Just cannot do yet another pages of this drivel. Nadia Zeemeeuw. The first fall of my teens idols. I adored this book so much when I was a teenager that I still can remember the whole passages of its translated version I have been rereading again and again. Finally I decided to reread a book in English. The first two parts gave exactly the same feelings I had before. I liked the Oakland strike section even more. The idea of adult who actually starts growing up is appealing to me a lot these days. I do love how London managed it. But I must admit that his harsh supremacist views not once made me flinch. Old nostalgia hold on until the final part where these endless racist remarks became unbearable. How had I never seen it before? All charm of this road adventure to happiness was spoiled ruthlessly to me. Steven P Engel. I liked it. I was looking for books, other than Steinbeck, that take place in Northern California. It was good to be able to see the countryside in my mind as the images were fresh from a recent trip there. It was quaint and sweet, but had unfortunately some of the typical racism of the times. Interesting politically to see how anti-union things were over one hundred years ago. Spoiler: Sonoma means Valley of the Moon. Baaska Baaska. I loved the call of the wild which I read while still at school many years ago. This one however I found very tedious. Oksanne Rybakoff. После 'Маленькой хозяйки Большого дома' поняла, что Лондон - родственная душа и стала читать всё, что попадало в руки и всё, что сумела раздобыть, написанное им. Понравилось краткое описание романа и я решила отправиться за этой книгой в библиотеку, где мне смогли найти этот роман с большим трудом. Книга оказалась ветхой, её никто не брал в течение многих лет. Теперь о главном. Роман захватывает с первой главы. Эмоции, характеры, общая атмосфера настолько живы и понятны, что вплетаются в саму жизнь читателя, их аромат неизменно сопровождает, когда книгу приходится отложить и заняться насущными делами. Роман делится на три части. Каждая оставляет в уме свой след, каждая вызывает разные эмоции. Не могу позволить себе спойлеры ни на грамм; вы, кто захочет прочесть книгу, сами должны исследовать каждый поворот сюжета, абсолютно не зная, что там. Скажу лишь то, что эта книга понравится особенно тем, кто взахлёб и с упоением перечитывал в 'Маленькой хозяйке Большого дома' описания того, как Дик вёл дела. Кто-то называет роман утопией. Это, скорее, тот роман из немногих, который оставит вас счастливыми после последнего предложения последней главы. Для меня эта книга была мотивирующей. Она помогает поверить в свои мечты и цели, бороться за них. I had never heard of this book by Jack London until we chose it to read in my book club. The language is often filled with slang of the era in which it takes place, and that was a little hard to get used to at first. I have a problem sometimes with slangy writing. However, the story of Saxon and Billy is, among other things, a love story that starts off with a bang, and then endures through difficulties and hard times. Saxon and Billy end up pursuing a pretty wonderful dream. Very boring. More reviews and ratings. Join the discussion. Help center.
Revista de Etnologie și Culturologie, vol. XXXI, 2022.
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