Customer Reviews

The Cruise of the Snark

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

The Cruise of the Snark relays the saga of Jack London's construction, and two-year voyage in a 45-foot sailing ketch from San Francisco to Hawaii, the Marquesas, Tahiti, and the head-hunting Solomon islands.

His difficulties in getting the boat built after the 1906 San Fran earthquake are hilarious as he describes the assaults of his contractors and creditors during the construction.

After they finally launch the voyage six months late, they manage to find Hawaii through sheer luck, where Jack and his plucky wife, Charmain, learn to surf (remember this is 1907!), visit the leper colony at Molokai and the "House of the Sun" volcanic crater on Maui.

Then comes the "impossible traverse" to the Marquesas, which they didn't realize couldn't be done until a week after they'd begun. Continuing on to Tahiti and the savage Solomon islands, Jack and his determined "Snarkites" encounter natives, tribal chieftains, missionaries, and overcome their problems with incredible persistence and naivete as only some of the first white people to enter these areas could possess.

Incidentally, the "cook" on this voyage was the famous photographer and world explorer Martin Johnson who was picked to go on his very first adventure by a letter to Jack advertising his thirst for travel. With his wife Osa, he would years later revisit the Solomons for the purpose of photographing cannibalism before embarking on their epic photographic safaris in Africa and Borneo. Jack only mentions Martin in passing during "the Cruise", perhaps sensing some literary and photographic competition that he would encounter later.

This book is a great shelf companion to Martin's "Through the South Seas with Jack London", upon which he began his great series of travel books. "The Cruise" gives Jack's viewpoint as the sponsor of the trip, and an established literary giant. Whereas Martin's opinions on the racial makeup of the islanders are quite bigoted and reflect the prevailing views of the turn of the century, Jack is more open-minded, and willing to point out the failings of the white race in adapting to these island paradises.

"The Cruise" is a great non-fiction book, among few others by London such as "the Abyss" that tell of his adventures and opinions first-hand as they happen. It truly captures his sarcastic yet hopeful perspective of himself and the whole concept of adventure.

It has been said that the best story Jack London ever conceived is the one he lived. You need look no further than THE CRUISE OF THE SNARK to confirm that. In this book, all of London's passions come together: action, experience, sailing, foreign travel, writing and reading. It is a "real adventure" tale, a travelogue and above all a well-crafted book full of London's personal voice and vibrant outlook on life. One may say it is also full of his ego, but he earns the self-satisfaction by putting action and hard work behind his beliefs and words. He is fearless. He is the first to get the irony in a situation and the first to laugh, especially at himself.

In 1908, London and six others, including his wife Charmian, sailed out of the San Francisco Bay into the open waters of the Pacific on what was to be a lengthy circumnavigation of the world. They were leaving over a year later than originally planned due to hold-ups in the construction of London's "perfect" boat, "The Snark," which ate $30,000 dollars before they left harbor. It isn't long before leaks, sea-sickness and other banana peels come their way, and it takes 27 days to make Hawaii. In due course, London learns to surf, they visit the top of a volcano, hang out at a leper colony, and then head further south to the land of Melville's "Typee" and the scary Solomon Islands. The various captains hired for the trip all seem to lack the navigation gene, so London teaches himself and gets it down to a science. London, first by necessity and then overtaken by the intoxication of success, becomes a self-taught dentist, and thus his crew's savior and worst nightmare. He and the crew suffer a nasty list of maladies, as well. It is a testimony of the man's indefatigable spirit, that even when his own health puts an end to the "round the world" scheme, that he never characterizes the voyage and anything that did not go as planned as a crushing failure or disappointment. He just heads straight to Plan B.

London's voice is wholly engaging, his profiles of crewmates and people encountered are delightful. One only wishes that some of his perceptions of other cultures were more enlightened, though they were liberal for their time. The Penguin Classics critical edition is an excellent balance of original text, a non-spoiling critical introduction, and a selection of 4 other short pieces, including accounts of the voyage by crewmate Martin Johnson and wife Charmian, and two unrelated maritime essays by London that enrich the overall experience of the book.

If you are travelling to Hawaii or any Polynesian destination, then make this book one of your companions. London makes you feel like you are on the boat with him as he takes you from the docks of San Fransisco, to the Hawaiin Isles, to Tahiti and beyond. With tremendous humility and wit London portrays his journey through the South Seas brilliantly, ultimately concluding that attempting to live out a dream can become a nightmarish reality.

Funny, disgusting, educational, classic, historic. The contrast between Londons attitude in the beginning, then at the end, of this book, tells a tale of life learned the hard way.

I have sailed a few times in S.F. Bay being from the Bay area and I truely related to this story and since the Snark was being built by Jack London right before the 1906 quake. It amazed me and invariably he got taken advantage of by the various builders which led to some precarious sailing manuevers since they measured wrong on one side. Which Jack London didn't find out until out at sea. I could picture all the island stops and so enjoyed the old photos that were put into the Snark truly an interesting journey. It was interesting to me hearing of the staph infections were attacking the individuals when the crew would cut themselves and then end up with these sores they knew nothing about and how they had to heal themselves with virtually no medicines on board. This book is a captain's log which he wrote in daily. If your a sailor you'll love it or even if you've been exposed as I have you'll enjoy it, especially if you happen to be from the Bay area. I recommend it as an interesting and enjoyable read though at times I did feel he was just writing to keep his checks coming in to pay for his journey.

Sebastopolian Reader

I have a lot of mixed emotions about this book. I thought his book "Call of the Wild" was one of the best ever works by an American writer. That novel was the peak of the Jack London's career.

Just so we are clear, this is not a novel. It is a collection of related short stories. London wrote everyday for a few hours each morning during a two year sea voyage. He did this to make money to pay for the boat trip. He wrote and sent off a number of different short stories during the trip to different magazines and each chapter was published separately. Then later, he took some of the stories and simply arranged them in chronological order to make the present book.

The book and the trip grew out of London's romance with yachting, and his idea that he wanted to sail around the world in a boat that he made himself. He wanted a large boat - about 50' - that he could sail himself helped by a small crew including his second wife. There is a lot of optimism here, and less practical experience than what one might consider to be wise, and London made a number of errors. London did not actually make the boat. He hired contractors. In any case, we hear how London made the boat and then sailed it across the Pacific, finally stopping near Australia. His motivation was based on dreams from his youth plus the romantic inspiration from prior writers such as Melville, Rudyard Kipling, Frank Norris, and Joseph Conrad, to name a few.

We read what we assume to be is a non-fiction account of how he built the boat, and then the trip itself in pieces along with trips to various islands.

Overall, the writing is good, but some parts are a lot more interesting than others so the book has a slightly uneven feel. I found a few of the chapeters to be boring.

Interesting read, but not as good as I had hoped: 4 stars.

In 1907 Jack London departed San Francisco for a trip around the world. For this voyage he commissioned the construction of a 45-foot yacht he dubbed the Snark. Taking along his wife Charmian, a small crew, a library of books, and a typewriter, he set off for the South Pacific. Along the way he wrote the series of articles that make up this book.

I have read most of Jack London's works, and this is one of my least favorites. Given the subject matter, you'd think this account would be loaded with exciting adventures, but much of the book lacks interest. Essentially it's a series of essays about an aging millionaire and his wife who travel around the world on their yacht. Everywhere they go they're treated like visiting dignitaries. It's a far cry from the gritty, perilous exploits one finds in London's fiction. Many of the chapters concentrate on the mundane, technical aspects of the seafaring life. This detracts from the more worthwhile discussions of the exotic destinations that were visited. There are a few good pieces of travel writing here and there. London learns to surf at Waikiki, visits the leper colony of Molokai, and encounters a prototypical American hippie in Tahiti. In the Marquesas he visits the sight of Herman Melville's Typee, but instead of finding a thriving civilization of noble savages he finds an abandoned jungle sprinkled with a few sickly inhabitants. This letdown is indicative of the book as a whole. In The Cruise of the Snark, the romance of the South Seas proves to be a disappointing illusion.

If you happen to be a sailor or a boat enthusiast you may enjoy this book more than the average reader. The text is peppered with sailing jargon, and at times London details his nautical maneuvers to the point of tedium. Resolving to teach himself celestial navigation en route, he devotes a few chapters to his trial and error in this arcane craft, which will bore the tears out of the typical landlubber. Sailing a small craft on the open ocean for months on end is a daring feat, but most likely the greatest peril faced by the travelers on this voyage was the possibility of getting lost in the empty seas due to a mathematical error on the part of the author.

The original edition contained over 100 photos London took during the trip. Though he was a skilled photographer, in the printed editions I've seen the images are too small and murkily reproduced to be of much value. These photos are absent from the Kindle edition, but they're no great loss.

Jack London wrote many excellent books, both fiction and nonfiction. The Cruise of the Snark is not one of them, and should not be high on your reading list. If you're looking for South Pacific adventure, I would suggest his short story collections On the Makaloa Mat and South Sea Tales.

I've recently arrived back in the USA from Suva and Nadi in Fiji, one of Jack's stopping points.

However, what he describes about the South Pacific is no more.

London's South Pacific was affected by European trade and commerce. For one thing, disease, in an era when its prevention was primitive, was rife and the inhabitants of the islands he visited were dropping like flies. Today, of course, the very same network has brought modern medicine and the major health threat to natives in the South Pacific is obesity: the only restaurant on Victoria Parade in Suva, allowed Sunday hours, was McDonald's, while Singh's Curry Shop had to close (I recommend the latter, around the corner from McDonald's on Gordon Street: try the goat curry).

London's natives were partly pagan. Today, ordinary people in Oceania are mostly fundamentalist Christian, and, in Suva, there is also a streak of Islam, petering out far to the west of Indonesia but echoing in the afternoon call of the Muezzin in Suva.

The fundamentalism means that the yachtsman is well-advised on shore to dress modestly. Of course, London and his wife did this naturally, long ago. I actually saw an Australian man warn a woman in shorts in Suva to put knickers on lest one of the local Methodists or Moslems be offended.

But any myth of escape has been so commodified in the South Pacific by tavern owners and tourist companies as to be sour and bitter to the taste.

London, while asserting his property rights thoughtlessly at Oakland's wharf, and while assuming he had the right to hire men to work on his boat and judge their hard work in print, also assumed, in the South Pacific, his right to wander at will.

Today, as the Rough Guide to Fiji advises the tourist, 85% of the land in Fiji is owned fee simple by chiefs. Sir Arthur Gordon decided not to repeat America's dispossession of the Indians and covenanted with the lads in Fiji in such a way that today, the natives form a land-owning aristocracy.

Their fair-mindedness (as on display from Steve Rabuka who backed down from being a military dictator) means that other lads from other mobs have rough civic equality.

London was the prototype, however, of the colonialist as rugged individual whose humanity is based on the unconscious deprivation of others' humanity.

London was the prototype of the soured Yank who when a lad thought the best of people, without a dime to his name, who now has everything, and thinks the worst of people.

London with a grin repeats texts from the hundreds of letters he received from individuals who wanted to sign on to the Snark and so escape their own lives of quiet desparation in an America already unbearable for the average city-dweller. Like him they yearned for a clean-limbed life but unlike London they lacked cash.

London essentially uses their texts to pad out a book that was obviously written not from the heart but to raise cash for a silly boat.

Any yachtsman knows in his heart of hearts that if the landlubber wants his experience, he has only to stand in a cold shower tearing up 100 dollar bills. The Snark was an expensive lark and, like modern yachts, unconsciously offensive at both its sharp end (where were the natives, giving London gifts and dying like flies) and its blunt end (where were the American laborers whose work London disrespects because it was not finished on his schedule).

The South Seas are overrun, today, by people who really ought to be paying more taxes back home. I traveled out there to work at global rates and learned much more about the REAL South Seas than any tourist might, and I'm afraid that Joe Conrad, who also worked for a living, in The Heart of Darkness is more reliable on the tropics than old Jack London.

I'm afraid that London saw, what he wanted to see: the Gilded Age struggle of man against man. However, as Hannah Arendt points out in The Origins of Totalitarianism, this defines rather a culture of hatred out of which were form racialist identities. London was for the most part free of any special form of racism but he did believe that Socialism was impossible because Alpha males (like Wolf Larsen) would take what they need.

Well, they might, and they do. Nonetheless, in the South Seas and elsewhere, Beta males and women continue some how to achieve more, and of more lasting value, by working in groups. Sir Arthur Gordon is forgotten save in Suva, because unlike Cecil Rhodes he failed to mind his own press-agentry but it appears he did lasting good with his land-tenure scheme.

London never learned the limits of his world view and his darkest book, Alcoholic Memories, is a testament to London's limitations.

My favorite yachtsman remains good old Tristan Jones, a British sailor who was trained in the Royal Navy and who paid his dues. Tristan would like me arrive back, from the back of beyond, without a dime and go willingly to work while living willingly in a doss-house. Tristan dragged his own boat across the Mato Grosso and talked back to tinpot Fascists in Stroessner's Paraguay.

In my experience it is relatively easy to learn the mechanics of a sailing boat but what is hard is endurance, not only of Nature but the Other. London endured Nature but has a tendency to be impatient in print with others, as shown by his insenstive near-mockery of applicants for service on his boat. Jones, on the other hand, mocks only people who deserve it, like customs agents in Paraguay.

We lack Tristan Jones' spirit in America with the result that the Third World is overrun with the worst of us, whining yachtsmen and CIA agents and their trophy wives. London I fear was despite his genuine greatness of soul a prototype for the worse that came later.