Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 109 What genius? It's clearly a freak show!

After the party, Lionel declined Maupassant, Huysmann, and others' invitations to "broaden his horizons" and walked home alone.

On the one hand, it's to organize my thoughts, and on the other hand, it's to exercise and maintain my physical fitness.

When he first came into this world, Lionel's body was thin and frail due to long-term malnutrition, just a big skeleton.

With improved economic conditions and Petty's enhanced culinary skills, his meals have become increasingly abundant and nutritious, recently bordering on excessive.

To maintain his health, Lionel has recently made a conscious effort to increase his walking frequency, which is also a common activity for French gentlemen.

The concept of "sports" in this era differed from that of later generations—if you were running in the park, you would be arrested by the police as a madman within 20 minutes.

Apart from fishermen, almost no one can swim. Most of the gentlemen and ladies who come to the beach for vacation just sunbathe on the sand.

Only those aristocratic sports are considered "sports": fencing, equestrianism, rowing, tennis, and croquet (similar to gateball)...

Other activities include mountain climbing, hiking, hunting, and fishing.

Lionel has not yet had the opportunity to participate in either of those activities—those usually require going to a specialized club.

Usually, once he reaches this level of annual income and his bank savings increase, investment managers will soon contact him and recommend that he join a certain club.

The protagonist of Jules Verne's novel "Around the World in Eighty Days," Mr. Felice Fogg, obtained membership in the "Reform Club" because he had £4 in deposits at Barings Bank.

However, Lionel's current assets do not yet meet the requirements, so he remains an outsider to Parisian "high society life".

He simply didn't care; otherwise, he could have easily become a guest of honor at the salons of many noblewomen through his connection with Mrs. Rothschild.

Walking along the road, Lionel reflected on the afternoon's debate. For him, who had over a hundred years of experience in the development of literary history and theory, "naturalism," "romanticism," and "realism" were all outdated.

But he couldn't possibly serve up "magical realism" right now—especially since "The Curious Case of Benjamin Buton" had only just begun; that would undoubtedly be too prescient and offensive.

On the contrary, what he had seen and heard at the "Old Man Lemaître" tavern a few days ago gave him a lot of inspiration.

Although the old shoemaker was holding a copy of Le Petit Parisien, he did not read it aloud according to the original text, but instead gave an impromptu interpretation based on his own understanding.

As the author, Lionel was not displeased at all; on the contrary, he greatly appreciated the old shoemaker's "re-creation".

Because he was dealing with ordinary patrons in the tavern who weren't very well-educated, the exquisite rhetoric and profound metaphors were just scratching the surface for them. On the contrary, it was the exaggerated and mundane descriptions that allowed them to immerse themselves in the story and appreciate it.

In Lionel's view, this is also a form of praise, praising Benjamin's Curious Cases of Bouton for possessing some of the most basic, essential elements of storytelling.

If only high-class clubs and salons could accept this novel, then Benjamin's Curious Case of Bouton would be a failure.

He wrote "for people," and the old shoemaker read "for people"—a story, by Lionel's current standards, is a failure if it loses its broad readership. Before he knew it, Lionel had arrived at apartment 64 Lafitte Street. Opening the door, he was greeted by a rich aroma of meat—had Petty improved the recipe again?
To hell with literary concepts and creative methods!
All Lionel wants right now is a hot bowl of soup!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

It was Monday again, and Lionel finally returned to the Sorbonne for classes.

Although Mr. Dunn said he could take leave as long as he wanted, Lionel still had some self-awareness.

It's already mid-May. If we don't come to class soon, the annual exams will be coming up. The written exam is usually in mid-June, and the oral exam is in late June.

If he fails, he has to repeat the course for a year. Even though he is now a famous writer, it is still a stain on his life.

After all, academic reputation and literary fame are not the same thing—of course, dropping out of school is another matter, as Jules Verne is an example of.

Albert de Rohan was particularly excited to see his "good brother" Lionel return to the classroom.

Since he appeared in the newspapers as “a good friend of Lionel Sorel”, he was unexpectedly praised by his father, Count Rohan, who even increased his allowance by 100 francs, making him much more financially secure.

However, just as Albert was about to take Lionel out for a big meal after class at noon, a newspaper stopped him – Le Figaro.

This newspaper was given to Lionel by Professor Hippolyte Tainer, and it was even turned to a specific page: "Take a good look at it, don't underestimate it."

Upon seeing the title, Lionel immediately sensed the article's aggressive intent:

Beware! A literary freak show is unfolding in Paris—A review of Sorel's new work, *The Curious Case of Benjamin Bouton*, and its commercial farce.

The signature is: Jules Arcena Arno Claretti.

Lionel didn't recognize the name, so he continued reading and discovered that the criticism he received was incredibly sharp.

Our literary tastes are being fooled by an elaborately orchestrated circus performance! Who's the protagonist? A young author named Lionel Sorel, and his wildly acclaimed *The Curious Cases of Benjamin Buton*.

What trick is Mr. Sorel playing this time? It's quite simple: a freak show! No different from those stalls at the market that use two-headed sheep or conjoined twins to attract onlookers! When did literature, our noble muse, stoop so low as to rely on displaying such unnatural and horrifying "monsters" to attract attention? This is a blatant trampling on the dignity of literature!

Some might argue: Ah, it's symbolic! Symbolizing that chaotic era of revolution! What a profound metaphor! —Come on! Don't try to glorify it! Using such an extreme, absurd, purely sensory-stimulating "freak" to symbolize a magnificent, complex, and profound historical transformation? That's like trying to explain the entire ocean with a drop of ink!

What is the great tradition of French literature? It is the noble sentiments of the heroes in Corneille's works, the incisive wisdom of Molière's insightful observations of the world, the shining light of reason in Voltaire's works, and the profound strokes of Balzac's depiction of the myriad aspects of society! Its foundation lies in its profound insight into human nature, its precise portrayal of society, its meticulous refinement of language, and its eternal pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty!

The popularity of Benjamin's *The Curious Cases of Bouton* is by no means a victory for literature. It is a sad symptom of the prevailing superficiality and vulgar tastes in society today! It caters to people's low-level tastes, their pursuit of shallow stimulation, and their enthusiasm for collecting trinkets. We, who cherish literary values, must be highly vigilant! Open your eyes, readers! Don't be fooled by those flashy little pictures and an absurd story of an "old baby"!

Professor Hippolyte Taine added meaningfully, "Don't underestimate Claretti; he'll be in the French Academy someday..."

(End of this chapter)