Inaugura el género de novela catástrofe en 1912. Un clásico ignorado. ( )

5 / 5 ⭐️'ˢ

"The Scarlet Plague" by Jack London

This is a haunting and unsettling story that portrays the aftermath of a devastating pandemic that wipes out most of humanity. Written in 1912, the novel's themes of disease, isolation, and survival are eerily prescient in the context of the current global pandemic.

London's vivid and descriptive writing immerses the reader in the desolate world of the protagonist, a survivor of the plague named James Howard Smith. The story paints a bleak picture of a world where civilization has crumbled, and humanity is reduced to a primitive state, struggling for survival in a world overrun by disease and violence.

What makes it particularly chilling is how London's depiction of the collapse of society seems all too plausible in light of the COVID-19 pandemic. The fear and uncertainty that pervades the story are reminiscent of the early days of the pandemic, when people were struggling to adapt to a new reality and trying to make sense of the chaos around them.

Despite its bleak subject matter, it is a compelling read, thanks to London's evocative prose and his portrayal of the complex relationships between the characters. As a reader, you are drawn into the lives of these survivors and their struggles to make sense of a world that has been turned upside down.

Overall, it is a chilling and thought-provoking story that remains relevant today, more than a century after it was written. It is a testament to Jack London's skill as a writer that he was able to create a work that is both a haunting warning of what could happen and a powerful exploration of what it means to be human in the face of adversity.

I read this one this month because it was the April pick for the "Apocalypse Whenever" Goodreads group. ( )

The rise of Covid-19 apparently led to an increase in appetite in post-apocalyptic fiction. It is not at all clear why some readers seek comfort or pleasure in reading about fictional catastrophes in the middle of a very real one. In my case, I think that what led me to seek some post-apocalyptic fiction was an attempt to build a fictional barrier between me as a reader and what the world is going through right now. Rather contradictorily, I felt that the ability of contemplating absolutely “worst-case scenarios” through fiction made me better prepared to face the daily barrage of pandemic news.

And so it was that I came across Jack London’s early post-apocalyptic novella The Scarlet Plague. Originally published in 1912, this work is set in 2073, sixty years after a deadly epidemic ravaged the world. James Smith, an erstwhile literature professor and one of the few survivors of the disease, lives in a wild, rural area close to what was once San Francisco. After the collapse of society because of the plague, those who escaped the disease reverted to tribalism. For their subsistence, they rely on hunting and fishing. At the start of the story we meet Smith accompanied by his three grandchildren. He wistfully reminisces about better times, continually bemoaning the fact that the new generations have lost the learning of the past, regressing so far that they are unable to string together sentences in “proper” English. At the children’s insistence, Smith, whom they call “Granser” with a mixture of affection and scorn, recounts the horrors of the epidemic and the early days of the new world order.

I must say that the intial parts of the novella did not particularly impress me. Before he gets going with the core of the story, London needs to give us some background, hence the initial chapters emphasizing the contrast between the old “cultured” man and the young uneducated “savages”. To be honest, however, I found their bickering rather tiresome. Also, as is wont to happen with old “futuristic” novels, the author’s imagining of the “developed world” of 2013 is, with hindsight, quite off the mark, with a description of a future that is more or less like 1912 with extra perks.

It is when we get to the story of the pandemic proper that the novella comes into its own. Here London gives his imagination free rein, and the descriptions of the rapid spread of the disease provoke spine-tingling horror. So does his portrayal of a society in collapse. In the context of a disaster, normal rules of humanity break down and the class inequalities inherent in an unfair and unjust societies merely exacerbate the regression into chaos.

Although I wouldn’t classify it as one of London’s best or most typical works, this novella is worth exploring at least for its historical interest. Unfortunately, it also provides some timely reading.

Read a full illustrated review at: https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-scarlet-plague-by-jack-london.htm... ( )

En 2013 estalla en las principales ciudades de la Tierra una peste fulminante que se propaga con rapidez hasta el último rincón habitado. No hay para ella antídotos conocidos; en cuestión de días, el vano éxodo de los pobladores vacía las ciudades, devastadas por el pillaje, los incendios y la violencia.
Con el paso del tiempo, unos pocos supervivientes van formando pequeñas comunidades mientras a su alrededor una vegetación asilvestrada, sin control, ahoga las zonas antes cultivadas, y los animales domésticos, con garras y dientes, tratan de asegurarse un lugar en el nuevo orden zoológico.
Sesenta años después de la tragedia, el último superviviente de la peste intenta al final de su vida trasmitir algo de experiencia y sabiduría a sus nietos casi salvajes, evocando un mundo que ya nadie sabe que ha perdido...

If you consider this book was written in 1912, it is a bit of amazing dystopia. A plague that cannot be stopped by science has seized the world, and for reasons unknown, some few have a natural immunity and survive. An old man tells his grandsons, who are almost literally savages, about the world that existed before them and the coming of the plague in 2012 that wiped it out of existence.

There were moments of eerie recognition and a picture of the hubris and over-inflated egos of men that were readily appreciated as a very true picture of who we, as a world society, are. The longer I live, the less fictional the coming of dystopia seems to me.

Thanks to Lynn for steering me to this one. ( )