The Game by Jack London
He lacked speech-expression.
He expressed himself with his hands, at his work, and with his body and the
play of his muscles in the squared ring; but to tell with his own lips the
charm of the squared ring was beyond him. Yet he essayed, and haltingly at
first, to express what he felt and analyzed when playing the Game at the
supreme summit of existence.
“All I know, Genevieve, is
that you feel good in the ring when you’ve got the man where you want him, when
he’s had a punch up both sleeves waiting for you and you’ve never given him an
opening to land ’em, when you’ve landed your own little punch an’ he’s goin’
groggy, an’ holdin’ on, an’ the referee’s dragging him off so’s you can go in
an’ finish ’m, an’ all the house is shouting an’ tearin’ itself loose, an’ you
know you’re the best man, an’ that you played m’ fair an’ won out because
you’re the best man.
This 1905 boxing novella from
the author of The Call of the Wild, White Fang, The Sea Wolf and many a
fine Yukon and adventure tale seems right up the alley of a man such as myself.
Here are the boxes it checks…
One—It’s about old school
boxing. Aces!
Two—It’s by Jack London. I am
a fan of much of his Yukon work and consider his story “Love of Life”
one of THE exemplars of survival fiction. [Reviewed by, yours truly here.]
Three—Stories by real life
doers, that is, men and women who truly lived experiences always move me more
than mere “I’ve read a lot in my day, now here’s me offering up a quilt of
what I’ve read of other’s lived experiences.”
Four—The man offered up so
many fiery quotes of Go! And LIVE! It is hard to choose one as a stand-in. So,
here I go with several verbal spurs to Live. [None from this novel.]
“I 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.”
“Life is so short. I would
rather sing one song than interpret the thousand.”
“The function of man is to
live, not to exist.”
“It is so much easier to live
placidly and complacently. Of course, to live placidly and complacently is not
to live at all.”
“Limited minds can recognize
limitations only in others.”
“You can't wait for
inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.”
“I do not live for what the
world thinks of me, but for what I think of myself.”
“Life is not a matter of
holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.”
Jack London was a doer. A
sailor, a Gold Rusher, a boxer, a… well, he did many things in his lifetime.
Here, he wishes to bring his
own boxing experience to life.
Of this novel he has said, "I
have had these experiences and it was out of these experiences, plus a fairly
intimate knowledge of prize-fighting in general, that I wrote The Game."
So, with all of the above
praise, how is this novel?
Unfortunately, rather weak. It
has streaks of the London panache here and there, but it is also a bit heavy on
the pulpy “He-Man & Adoring Female” side of things.
This is our female admirer on
our “Hero”, London’s fictional stand-in.
“And yet, while it frightened
her, she was vaguely stirred with pride in him. His masculinity, the masculinity
of the fighting male, made its inevitable appeal to her, a female, moulded by
all her heredity to seek out the strong man for mate, and to lean against the
wall of his strength.”
Yeah, that’s a little…well.
What London overshoots in his male-female
relationship he gets more than right in a few ring particulars.
We have this…
“They came to the hall, on
a dark street-corner, ostensibly the quarters of an athletic club, but in
reality an institution designed for pulling off fights and keeping within the
police ordinance.”
·
We must not forget boxing existed in a
long shadow of out and out illegal to quasi-illegal status for decades.
·
For more on this facet of history put
your ears on our brief podcast on this very topic Illegal Boxing.
We have this common ring instruction
of the time.
“Joe Fleming fights at one
hundred and twenty-eight,” he said; “John Ponta at one hundred and forty. They
will fight as long as one hand is free, and take care of themselves in the
breakaway. The audience must remember that a decision must be given. There are
no draws fought before this club.”
And we have such observations
as this, which can only be written by one who has fought and learned that
wasted emotional effort can be as debilitating as wasted physical effort. Something
that many of today’s “action authors” never nail as, well, I doubt they’ve ever
rolled or taken a shot.
“The effect was bad on Ponta.
He became more frenzied than ever, and more impotent. He panted and sobbed,
wasting his effort by too much effort, losing sanity and control and futilely
trying to compensate for the loss by excess of physical endeavor.”
London loved the game of
boxing, yet what he wrote here is not a love story. The Game is a bit
grim and gritty.
It is said that Gene Tunney
read this volume in the late 1920s and this contributed to his decision to
retire.
True or not, I cannot say, but
I can vouch that this is no love letter to boxing.
But that is not the reason for
a minor thumbs down.
It is simply that the
melodrama of the novel, the long sections that are not boxing, well, they lack
the bald-face realism that London exhibits in his best work.
There is better boxing
literature to be read, but kudos to Mr. London for stepping into the ring and
gives a few glimpses of verisimilitude.
Done readin’? Wanna Train Like
They Did Back When?
Resources for Livin’ the
Warrior Life
The Black Box Store
https://www.extremeselfprotection.com/
The Indigenous Ability Blog
https://indigenousability.blogspot.com/
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Podcast
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