Amidst the dogfighting, circa early 20th century racism, and indigenous stereotypes, White Fang is certainly one of the classics that may rub modern audiences the wrong way. Seriously...why does the dog believe in white supremacy the moment he first sees a white person? 

Otherwise, it's a fairly typical Jack London outing about the duality of the Wild and civilization, its harms and its beauty, and how our environments mold us over time. Honestly, I found it sad White Fang basically being pulled from the Wild, forced to domesticate to the point where he can't survive independently, and then shipped to a place that isn't the best climate for his breed. I know it's meant to be uplifting at some point where he escapes his abuse and ends up with an owner that loves him, but still. It feels like a life forced upon him that he has to make a best case scenario out of. 

The writing style isn't really to my taste, very repetitive, straight forward, and rife with long internal descriptions that seem to go nowhere. It never really felt like a continuous narrative, more like a patchwork of smaller stories that make up White Fang's life. It feels like we are giving scenes of a story rather than settling into a moment, if that makes any sense. 

I read this book solely to see if I could weed my collection a bit and I think I've found something that would probably see better use elsewhere.