Over and over again

Today's prompt from The Daily Post is:

Tell us about a book you can read again and again without getting bored — what is it that speaks to you?

I couldn't believe my eyes when this question popped up today of all days because I had just picked up one of my most favourite books from childhood for another round of reading: The Call of the Wild by Jack London.

I got my grubby hands on this book in primary school. I was flipping through the Book Club catalogue, saw a book with a dog on the front cover and without knowledge of the plot or characters, I filled in the form and ordered it. That's right, I bought the book (or rather, my mum did because ten-year-old me had no money) because a dog stood proudly on the cover. I was in an animal adoration phase at that time.

This lovely cover made me buy the book.

Weeks later, the book arrived. I snatched it and eagerly flipped to the first page. From then on, I was swept away by the beauty and simplicity of the writing. The story sucked me in and opened up a whole new world, filled with the harsh snow of the Artic, the greed and cruelty of man, the loyalty and ferocity of dogs, and the list goes on forever.

It was all so new to my ten-year-old brain I'm surprised my head didn't explode. I zipped through the book in a few hours and it left me with feelings of wonder and emptiness, feelings which I have ever since used as a benchmark to compare other books.

The Call of the Wild was unlike anything I've read and even now, ten years on, I can't find a book I would love to re-read more.