JACK: SOUTH SEA TALES; HAWAII

Why write a story of surfing on Waikiki with paragraphs of description, some one thousand words long. Jack London one writes a thousand words a day. That paragraph was a day’s effort.

Surfing in Hawaii in 1907 – I don’t why anyone would stick to straight description. There’s a lot going on, especially for a new surfer, DUDE: Time of day, place in the ocean – quarter mile off shore or doing the bunny waves closer to the beach. Light, the trees, the terrain, other human surfers, the colors of the water as time shifted with sun, and anything in the water like sharks, phantom sensations of the unknown, or anything else. Anyone going into the water off Waikiki has to sense some of this stuff going on. Not Jack London. He describes, poorly what a surfer, novice he is, is doing, thinking, seeing, hoping, etc. Every 1,000 words is writing going no where. The writing and the story are dead when it hits the page. I don’t care what anyone thought 110 years ago. Now don’t believe the excellent Introduction by A. Grove Day, who sups up each story, overstating its qualities. 

DITTO, South Sea tales, are not good tales. “The Inevitable White Man” is a regrettable tale, and Jack begins with a incident of a white man being killed, militated or gone absent while visiting the South Sea Islands. So Jack had done his research for the reading audience, but where may his characters go thereafter? It is too formulaic to read: Those South Sea Islanders are dangerous; they are heathens; they kill members of the Caucasian race. Perhaps they kill persons from other races too, but 160 years ago no one kept statistics about those deaths.

Jack’s observations are reminiscent of Will Rogers, who was of Native American heritage. I paraphrase, I sort of regret my ancestors did not take a more military stand on Plymouth Rock. By the nineteenth century South Sea Islanders apparently knew that story and followed that advice.

Jack’s Tales are dislike the premiere novel of a South Sea Adventure among the natives by an American, Herman Melville. TYPEE. Born in 1819 Melville took to the Sea early. Strong-willed and independent he disliked ship life. Supposedly he jumped ship on an island, got into the nature among the natives. He had been warned not to go among the Typee clan (tribe). They were cannibals. Melville was pursued; the ship had a small company. Melville wandered far, but when natives found him he was greeted in a friendly way. He wondered about rumors when he learned he had landed amongst the Typee, entirely peaceful. They understood Melville was on the run, and gave him shelter, a hut, a woman, food and security. He joined in work and participated in community projects. It was paradise among naked people. Melville does not describe his garb; the reader is allowed to infer the fewer the clothes the better. Melville resisted native offers to tattoo his body. He wandered everywhere. Toward the end of the story unbeknownst to Melville, an American whaling ship was looking for able seamen and planned to rescue him. More offers to tattoo, more evasions, more evenings with the guys and many at the hut with his women, life was pleasant. He finally ventured to far into a taboo area and discovered human dismembering and signed of cannibalism. 

Melville knew he was in trouble. At the hut with the love of his life, Melville had to escape. A commotion on the beach, boats with white men approached. They have gifts for the white sailor. Melville gets away and swims perused by angry friends who want to kill him. He makes the boats and climbs aboard. He tosses gifts and reaches out to the natives to say good-bye; Melville conks a few on the head.

In the 1840s, younger than 25 years, Melville gives the facts and tells story without opinions, comments or judgments be-marring a simple tale. Some of it is coincidental and convenient, but its truth comes out.

Jack is a creature of his times. He is careless with words, observations and judgments. His people – characters – seem fictional.