Jack LondonYears ago, I delayed watching the movie, Schindler’s List, because of the subject matter–yet another recounting of The Holocaust. After I saw it, I was disappointed that I had waited. It was an excellent movie and left me inspired and not depressed.  I looked forward to another treatment of the plight of the Indians in North America with the same lack of enthusiasm.

A factor that made this different was that my wife and I had combined our creative talents (mostly hers) to create a group she named, “The League of Old Men.” The title sounded familiar so I looked it up and found this book with a similar but not exactly the same title. Turned out to be a short story of only twenty-

My impression of what the old man, "Imber," may have looked like.

My impression of what the old man, “Imber,” may have looked like.

three pages. I read it aloud to her today.

London addressed a terrible loss of life amongst both Indian and the White man with a casual, unemotional review of the

numbers and few specific incidents. At the same time, readers are drawn into the profoundly emotional story of the old man who created his own holocaust as he and his comrades delivered death to the invaders without remorse or prejudice. In the end, the judge carries out his own duties as proscribed by law and his broken heart represents the conflicted emotions of the conquerors of the new world.

Readers who have any interest in American History will discover their personal libraries incomplete without this humble volume of significant consequence.