I can still remember the day I received the hardcover edition of this novel as a christmas present by my grandmother four or five years ago. At a time when I was still recuperating from the classics thrown at us in school with the pure result of me feeling disgusted by everything which has been published more than one hundred years ago, I decided White Fang to be a piece of literature I'd better not pick up. And so it rested on my book shelf for more than three years before I brought myself to open it again. The first of altogether five parts turned out to be arduous to read, since I expected an animal's viewpoint, but read a story about two men trying to survive in Canada's wilderness. I finally stopped reading at page forty or so and put it back on my shelves. 
 Then, one year ago, I returned to "White Fang", telling myself continuously it couldn't be that bad, and exactly at that point where Part Two began, I fell in love with this book. White Fang's story is told in such a magnificient way, you can't help yourself but root for his wolf, hope for his survival, suffer with him through everything he has to endure. Jack London's novel became one of the first classics I enjoyed, and although some time still had to pass before I would turn my attention towards other classics, it ultimately broke the ice between me and classics, a long lasting antipathy fabricated by my teacher's abilities to kill any interest in reading all those great books out there. 
 Highly recommended!