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'An old man, James Howard Smith, walks along deserted railway tracks, long since unused and overgrown; beside him a young, feral boy helps him along. It has been 60 years since the great Red Death wiped out mankind, and the handful of survivors from all walks of life have established their own civilization and their own hierarchy in a savage world. Art, science, and all learning has been lost, and the young descendants of the healthy know nothing of the world that was—nothing but myths and make-believe. The old man is the only one who can convey the wonders of that bygone age, and the horrors of the plague that brought about its end. What future lies in store for the remnants of mankind can only be surmised—their ignorance, barbarity, and ruthlessness the only hopes they have?'
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So somehow I had no idea Jack London had written a dystopian story.
I suppose it is more "post-apocalyptic" than "dystopian," strictly, but the line has always been a bit fluid to me.
The "scarlet plague" itself is actually scarier than most of the imagined diseases that destroy mankind, mostly because of how quickly it kills. Watching it destroy civilization was kind of terrifying, and the aftermath of things was not pretty. The speed with which the modern world became completely unimaginable to the next generation made sense, but was awful to watch.
I also kind of hated most of the younger generation, because they were horrible little monsters, but that's neither here nor there.
The whole story does feel very Jack London simply because we are looking at a "man versus nature, nature wins" scenario, but the wider focus (and, let me be honest, the whole "end of the world" bit) drew me in a bit more. It's still hardly what I would call "cheerful" (am I the only one for whom "To Build a Fire" was a turning-point in childhood reading?), but it is fascinating reading and something I actually wish I had been aware of before I pigeon-holed Jack London into the "cold + dogs + depressing" category. He is apparently quite capable of more than that.
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