Tokyo: The life of a literary giant begins with home self-defense!

Chapter 374: Where are the people?
The Old House Building, three days after the shortlist was announced.

Excluding some novels by foreign authors, the number of works that can be selected becomes very small.

"In the end, the only choice was Banville's The Dead."

On the desk are three short stories: "The Dead", "The Apartment" and "How Similar".

"The Dead" was placed at the top, Maeve Binchy in the middle of the judges' table sighed.

In fact, after the people in Congress decided to exclude foreign authors, the winning author of Frank's novel suddenly became clear.

“The Apartment’s expression is too common, and How Similar is Not as literary as The Dead.”

Banville is an author who has been proven in the Irish market, and he is highly respected by many scholars.

"Don't bring up things that have already been decided."

Three days after the shortlist was announced, the selection process of the organizing committee suddenly became quiet.

There is no need to shout at the top of your lungs about which work referenced which literary technique, or to argue about what kind of philosophical thoughts are hidden in this author's writing.

If we only choose from Irish authors, it seems that only Banville can take the lead.

"How's the response from the reading club?"

Jane Joyce opened her mouth and interrupted Colm who was feeling smug.

During the review after the shortlist, Colm kept a smug look on his face.

He recommended this year's winning works, and the one eliminated was Ryuukawa Toru, whom he didn't like very much.

"The winning works have already been decided, so let's just chat about it."

Colm was grinning when Joyce interrupted him in his discussion of the excellence of The Dead.

He had been in a good mood the last few days, but the same could not be said for Joyce.

Longchuan Che, who has a distinct Joycean writing style, was eliminated, and the title of Bole was also taken away by him.

"Okay, okay, let's take a look at the feedback from the reading club."

In terms of status, Colm is inferior to Joyce.

To avoid the woman getting angry, Colm moved out a large number of letters.

"so much?"

Some of the judges were surprised.

Book Club in Ireland.

It is a non-governmental non-profit organization.

It is composed of readers who love literature and represents the will of the reader market.

“This year, as it coincides with Bloomsday, many people are willing to participate.”

Bloomsday is a reading day. A few days ago, the Frank organizing committee bound the shortlisted works into books and randomly selected them to the homes of registered readers of the reading club.

"You need to read the entire work and write a review of no less than 5,000 words. It's not an easy job for book club members."

Someone said with emotion.

Ireland has a strong literary atmosphere, but only a few people are willing to take the time to write free feedback for the Frank Novel Award.

"Take them all out and let's have a look."

There were so many letters sent back that they were spread out on the table like dense snowflakes.

Although the feedback from the reading club can only provide a reference for the selection of award-winning works, the organizing committee will still carefully review them every year.

"It's all thanks to the support of the Irish people."

Colm opened it with a smile, and found a review about "The Dead".
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On a snowy night in Dublin, Gabriel stood at the window, staring at the snowflakes flying in the sky.
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The white earth is so clean, it is empty. Death is empty in the end. All illusions of life will face "emptiness".
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"The Dead" gives me a sense of sourceless comfort, "Why does the sky, which has nothing, give me comfort?"

Good works can resonate with readers, and the readers who sent letters undoubtedly gained their own understanding of loneliness from Banville's works.

“Each snowflake is a lonely individual, falling freely in the void. This sense of alienation reflects the spiritual dilemma of human beings in the post-Christian era.”

Colm grinned as he read the readers' letters. He waved the letters in his hand with a proud look on his face, saying, "Look, look, look at them all. The works I chose are the best."

"Take them all apart."

Really not wanting to see the other party's smug look, Joyce asked everyone to open the letters and read them.

I can finish reading hundreds of letters today if I just glance through them quickly.

"Here is a reply letter regarding Silence."

"Silence" is one of the novels in Longchuan Tetsu's collection. I was deeply impressed by this oriental member of the organizing committee.

Everyone turned their eyes to the judge who spoke. There were beautiful works to be read out, which was the habit of the Frank Novel Award jury.

"He said."

The judge in the corner cleared his throat.

"Teacher Longchuan's book has no grand narrative, no majestic theme sculpture, no impeccable plot arrangement, and no hints to gain huge worldly benefits and promises to achieve ultimate happiness."

The judges read out a long list of no's and Colm sneered.

"Nothing. It seems that I gained nothing from reading this time."

Judge Nian Xin glanced at him calmly and continued.

"but."

These two words represent a turning point, the judge holding the envelope read out with a frown.

"The silent boy endured the bullying of others alone and helplessly. This is so similar to my life."

Good works can give people a sense of solidarity, or loneliness can give people a sense of resonance.

Ryuukawa Tetsu's several novels are all original and the contents of the stories are mixed with various things he heard in life.

Loneliness became an amorphous melody in his writing, which he played with and then drifted to the people of Ireland.

"It was a quiet and textured loneliness. After reading this novel in Belfast, I suddenly felt that the sky was high."

A heartfelt feedback, it seems that this reader likes Ryuukawa Toru's works very much.

"cut."

Colm curled his lips. Not all books sent out would receive a reply. The fact that Ryukawa Che's novels received feedback from readers showed that they really touched people's hearts.

"continue."

Joyce said with a smile.

Although the reply from the reading club has little influence on the selection.

But Joyce also felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw everyone's enthusiastic feedback on the selected works.

The works are selected by the judges and then recognized by the public.

In some ways, this is the result of the joint efforts of the organizing committee and the authors.

"What catches your eyes."

Colm was unhappy that someone wrote back to Longchuan Che, but he still picked up the readers' letters and started reading them one by one.

He wants to get a few more about "The Dead".

"Here is a reply letter about The Green Beast."

"There's one about 'The Ghost of Lexington.'"

"'The Seventh Man' seems to be in Ryukawa Tetsu's collection of works, right?"

“Why are so many people writing responses about short stories? I remember sending out a collection of novels.”

Unexpectedly, among the letters that were read out, the works of Ryukawa Tetsu accounted for a very large proportion.

The organizing committee selected three thousand readers, but less than five hundred responded.

"Almost half of them are about Ryuukawa Tetsu's reply."

Some people exclaimed in surprise, which shows that Ryukawa Tetsu's works have a strong resonance.

“It’s a novel that you can relate to and that makes you feel connected to the story.”

Joyce sighed, thinking that in previous years, Ryuukawa Che might have won a bigger award.

"It's boring."

The letter reading session became a personal show for Ryukawa Tetsu. Colm threw the letter aside and prepared to go home.

The sky darkens and the Irish sun sets.

"What does it matter if I write well? Anyway, this year..."

Before Colm could finish his confident words, an obese middle-aged man rushed into the closed selection site.

The middle-aged man in a suit and tie wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Where are the people from Kolm? Come out and die!"

Colm, who was knocked to the ground, heard a sharp explosion from Councillor Durand.

(End of this chapter)