The Alaskan

Auteur

James Oliver "Jim" Curwood (June 12, 1878 - August 13, 1927) was an American action-adventure writer and conservationist. His books were often based on adventures set in the Yukon or Alaska and ranked among the top-ten best sellers in the United States in the early 1920s, according to Publishers Weekly. At least eighteen motion pictures have been based on or directly inspired by his novels and short stories; one was produced in three versions from 1919 to 1953. At the time of his death, Curwood was the highest paid (per word) author in the world.[1] Curwood was born in Owosso, Michigan, the youngest of four children.[2] Attending local schools, Curwood left high school before graduation. He passed the entrance exam to the University of Michigan and was allowed to enroll in the English department, where he studied journalism. After two years, Curwood quit college to become a reporter, moving to Detroit for work. In 1900, he sold his first story, while working for the Detroit News-Tribune. By 1909 he had saved enough money to travel to the Canadian northwest, a trip that inspired his wilderness adventure stories. Because his novels sold well, Curwood could afford to return to Owosso and live there. He traveled to the Yukon and Alaska for several months each year for more inspiration. He wrote more than thirty adventure books. By 1922, Curwood had become very wealthy from the success of his writing. He fulfilled a childhood fantasy by building Curwood Castle in Owosso. Constructed in the style of an 18th-century French chateau, the estate overlooked the Shiawassee River. In one of the homes' two large turrets, Curwood set up his writing studio. He also owned a camp in a remote area in Baraga County, Michigan, near the Huron Mountains, as well as a cabin in Roscommon, Michigan.

Texte du rabat

Captain Rifle, gray and old in the Alaskan Steamship service, had not lost the spirit of his youth along with his years. Romance was not dead in him, and the fire which is built up of clean adventure and the association of strong men and a mighty country had not died out of his veins. He could still see the picturesque, feel the thrill of the unusual, and - at times - warm memories crowded upon him so closely that yesterday seemed today, and Alaska was young again, thrilling the world with her wild call to those who had courage to come and fight for her treasures, and live - or die. Tonight, with the softly musical throb of his ship under his feet, and the yellow moon climbing up from behind the ramparts of the Alaskan mountains, something of loneliness seized upon him, and he said simply: "That is Alaska."