Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 63 Firewall

Gabriel scoffed, exhaling a puff of cigar smoke as he replied to Director Gigo, his rather large belly protruding: "Come on, Gigo, my old friend, you know how much the fees are for articles in Le Parisien."

Could they give this poor young man a few Su's worth of silver?

Director Gigo didn't want to dwell on the matter, so he pushed Le Parisien aside and pulled a thick, simply-covered booklet from his drawer, throwing it in front of Gabriel: "Let's talk about this, Gabriel."

Gabriel calmly picked up the thick booklet from the table, glanced at it, then put it back and shrugged: "Ah, 'The Decadent City,' what a wonderful title."

Director Gigo was clearly dissatisfied with his attitude; even if the other party was to give him at least 10,000 francs in "sponsorship fees" every year, such a perfunctory attitude was unacceptable.

He stood up abruptly, leaned close to Gabriel's face, and warned him, word by word: "Mr. Marel, this book is now receiving great attention from Bishop Gibel, who is preparing to present it to Parliament."

Do you still think you can escape this by using money or other means? I hope you can give me a good reason!

Gabriel became a little more serious upon hearing this, but remained nonchalant—he donated even more to the Paris Book Society every year—and sat up slightly straighter: "Yes, I published this book."

Furthermore, I have registered the copyright with the Books and Libraries Authority, and it is protected by the Law of 1793 concerning Literary and Artistic Works.

Director Gigo was somewhat surprised that Gigo not only readily admitted it, but also said that the book "Decadent City" had been registered for copyright.

He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and thought for a moment before speaking again: "Don't you know that publishing this kind of novel is a major taboo? Bishop Gibel has ordered us to arrest the publisher and author immediately."

Since the Napoleonic Penal Code of 1810 included provisions prohibiting "obscene" and "immoral" works, the Paris police department has had a special department responsible for "moral discipline".

In 1857, Flaubert's Madame Bovary was accused of "insulting morality and religion," and even though he was ultimately found not guilty, the process still shook the literary world.

Times have changed. After the establishment of the republican government in 1871, the censorship of obscene books was relaxed considerably. However, Gabriel, a publisher and newspaper owner who operated openly, was the first to dare to do so.

Gabriel laughed: "What crime has it committed that warrants such a fuss from you and Bishop Gibel?"

Director Gigo angrily poked the cover of "Decadent City" with his finger: "I originally thought it was printed by those rats who only dare to hide underground, using your name, but I didn't expect you to admit it!"

Mr. Marell, I have been very restrained in publishing your jokes and gossip in The Buzz—but this book, with its obscene descriptions, has crossed the line.

If you'd be willing to reveal the author—well, who "an honest Parisian" is—maybe it would lessen your guilt!

Gabriel's smile didn't fade; instead, it grew even brighter. He confidently flipped open the book "Decadent City" on the table again: "Obscene? Good heavens, my dear Gigo, what are you talking about?"
Can you find a single obscene word in this? Organs, actions, positions... take a closer look!

Director Gigo was stunned. He stared at the bright "□□□□□□□□□□□□ (15 lines deleted here)" on the open page and didn't know what to say for a moment.

Gabriel put on a serious face and spoke with righteous indignation: "Your Excellency Director Gigo, it is precisely out of a sense of responsibility to the morality and conscience of the people of Paris and France that those contents have been deleted and will never poison anyone's mind!"
While some of the descriptions in "Decadent City" are debatable, it is in itself a superb naturalistic novel! Just like the one written by Mr. Zola.

If it were truly a novel promoting obscenity, how could the Books and Libraries Board have approved my copyright registration?

Director Gigo, his face grim, pulled a thin booklet from his drawer and slammed it heavily on the table: "Deleted? Then what about this one?"

Gabriel pretended to look at it, then threw it on the table as if it had been burned: "God! The devil! Only the devil would write such blasphemous words!"

Director Gigo thought to himself, "Your acting is terrible!" and gave him a disdainful look: "What? Wasn't this booklet released to coincide with the release of 'The Decadent City'? You printed all the deleted content on it! Damn it, just looking at the words on this will make people fall into depravity!"

Gabriel made the sign of the cross on his chest and then cried out to God: "God! I, Gabriel Marel, have been a law-abiding businessman all my life and have never done anything to exploit legal loopholes!"
Look, this booklet has no title, author, or publisher on the cover. It must be some scoundrel who's jealous of our "Decadent City" and commissioned some shameless, vulgar writer to write it.

You must bring them to justice!

Director Gigo was dumbfounded. He then picked up the booklet and flipped through it, only to find that there was indeed no information about the publisher or author.

The two booklets were presented to him by his subordinates at the same time, and he assumed that they were a set; but after Gabriel's reminder, he realized that theoretically, the two booklets, one thick and one thin, were completely independent of each other.

Director Gigo gave Gabriel, who had a half-smile on his face, a deep look, and sighed helplessly: "I hope you can convince Bishop Gibert with this rhetoric! — But, can you at least tell me who this 'honest Parisian' is?"

Gabriel shrugged: "I don't know either. He's always submitted anonymously, and we only communicate by email."

Director Gigo gave a mocking smile: "Oh? Our all-powerful Gabriel Marel wouldn't know who to pay such large sums of royalties to? Well, let's hope Bishop Giber believes that too."

He then waved his hand, signaling Gabriel to leave.

Gabriel didn't linger. He stood up, took his cane, bowed to Director Gigo, and left gracefully.

Watching Gabriel's broad back disappear into the police station, Chief Gigo suddenly remembered something and called out, "Claude, Claude!"

A moment later, a man who looked extremely shrewd and capable appeared in his office: "Your Excellency, Director, please give your orders!"

Director Gigo asked, "How's the case coming along with that Sorbonne student's accusation that the manager of 'Orbi Trading Company' committed marriage fraud, swindling 5000 francs from his family in the Alps?"

Detective Claude scratched his head: "After all, the case happened in the Alps, and we can't be sure the other party is really the manager of 'Orbi Trading Company'..."

Chief Gigo knew his subordinates had buried the case under some pile of files, so he handed the Le Petit Parisien to Detective Claude: "I remember the person who reported the case was named Lionel Sorel, wasn't he?"

Detective Claude was somewhat bewildered: "Yes..." Then he saw the name in the newspaper: "It's...it's him?"

Director Gigo nodded: "He's got some influence now, so you need to keep an eye on that case. What if he tells the reporter from Le Parisien..."

Detective Claude immediately understood and saluted, saying, "I will solve the case as soon as possible!"

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.

Downstairs at the Paris police station, Gabriel Marel boarded the carriage that was waiting for him, and only then did he truly breathe a sigh of relief.

Then he recalled the letter that had arrived with the novel from "an honest Parisian": "...I think *The Decadent City* should be sold in at least two editions..."

He's a fucking genius!
At this moment, the coachman asked, "Sir, shall we go home now?"

Gabriel Marel first snorted, then said, "I'm going to Notre Dame. I need to see Bishop Gibert!"

(End of this chapter)