The first version of Jack London’s classic short story, “To Build a Fire,” was published in 1902, but we are going to explore the most popular version: his 1908 revision that contains a native dog. The unnamed protagonist is seeking his fortune in the Yukon territory where the temperature can drop well below zero. The conditions can be brutal, but despite the warnings of an older man from Sulphur Creek, the younger man heads into the boreal forest, followed by a four-footed companion. Sure enough, the elements get the better of the protagonist. His saliva freezes on his face. He begins to lose feeling in his extremities. And the small fire he manages to build causes the snow on the tree limbs above it to come crashing down, extinguishing the flames immediately. London’s dog is no Lassie. Pulled by the warmth and the food he knows is back at the camp, the dog abandons the man, leaving him to freeze to death by himself in the unforgiving wild.
Jack London was an American Naturalist. Naturalism was a curious biproduct of Realism and Darwinism. The American Civil war, which took place between 1861 and 1865, dramatically altered how a certain class of thinkers and influencers viewed the world. Once upon a time, they endeavored to beat their own drums in the manner of Henry David Thoreau and his mentor Ralph Waldo Emerson. The Transcendentalists were America’s version of the Romantics, after all, who likewise celebrated the eternal and, tellingly, internal Divine. A common spark. That which set human beings aside from the rest of creation. We were wonderfully and fearfully made. Until Fort Sumter and General P. G. T. Beauregard’s unstoppable canons. And then there was an extended, interminable bloodbath that left everyone wondering how brother was able to do unspeakable acts toward brother. The country was forced to take sober stock of itself. Face the truth. Accept what was real. In literature, this birthed a new genre – Realism – but shortly thereafter came Naturalism. As one of my former professors put it, Realism was walking down the street. Naturalism was walking down that same street and stepping into a massive pile of dog waste. Bad luck was inevitable, yes, but the genre shined a light on much more. Despite what we say to ourselves, we do not have as much control as we think. “To Build a Fire” is a classic man versus nature tale, and it would be useful to pause for a moment on the latter half of that dynamic. Nature does not care about our ambitions. Nature does not care about our good intentions. As part of creation, we are also subject to its laws, and any departure from that reality, just like in the story, means certain destruction. The dog knows this to be true. That is why he simply made his way back to camp where his food dish and a warm fire awaited. He was under no delusions. The protagonist was simply a fool. And perhaps that is the lesson London imparts. It is the fool who ignores nature and holds up his ambitions and desires to be more consequential just because they are his.
When I look around, I see this sort at every turn. Natural law, they scream, does not apply to me. I am the exception. This is America, and I can be whatever I want to be, declare to be true whatever I deem to be so. The older man at Sulphur Creek would call this way of thinking foolishness. And so would the dog. The Yukon exists in many forms all around us, and to say that it doesn’t is undeniably prideful. We know what follows. Just like in the story, there is a fall. The only question that remains is how much snow do the limbs above us carry.
