The Iron Heel calls itself a novel, but it really isn’t. Basically, it’s a sad excuse for a novelist to expouse his political beliefs on a bully pulpit and call it a novel. There’s no real plot in the story. What there was, is page after page of London spouting his beliefs on socialism. It’s almost as if he had written these long essays on the virtues of socialism and after the fact, decided to make it into a novel. Even if I agreed with his position, which I don’t, it’s completely inappropriate to call this a novel. If I wanted to read about socialism, I would get a non-fiction book on the subject. There is nothing remotely redeemable about this novel, if you want to call it that. I would highly recommend avoiding this, even if you are a practicing socialist.
Carl Alves – author of Reconquest: Mother Earth