1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Michelle returned to the attic of her Cohen Street apartment.

When he reopened the wooden door and smelled the damp, cold air, he felt as if he had returned to another world...

Michelle had no attachment to the attic.

Apart from the table that shook violently when I wrote, there were no other vivid memories in the room...

After all, without comparison, there's no harm done...

After renting that luxury apartment, he couldn't stand living in this awful place for even a second longer.

Today, he is preparing to move into his new house.

He didn't want to wait a second longer.

Fortunately, Michelle didn't have too much stuff.

He packed a few changes of clothes and some daily necessities into an old leather suitcase and prepared to leave the Cohen Street apartment.

The rent has been paid until next month. I'll take care of the rest of the things when I have time.

Goodbye, slums.

Michelle whispered to herself, her tone carrying a hint of relief.

He carried his suitcase downstairs. The stairwell was still dark and narrow, and the wooden floorboards were still creaking, but they were no longer relevant to him.

Michel stopped a public carriage and gave the address of Bloomsbury.

The coachman glanced at him, clearly curious that this young man from the East End could go to such a place.

Michelle ignored it, simply leaning against the car window, watching the familiar streets gradually recede into the distance.

The carriage traveled through the streets of London, from the crowded and dirty East End to the more spacious and cleaner West End.

The carriage gently stopped in front of the new apartment, and Michelle stepped out, carrying her old suitcase.

He looked up at the Georgian-style townhouse in front of him.

The afternoon sun was just right, casting a warm and bright halo over the red brick wall.

Michelle took out the brass key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it gently. The door opened with a click.

Everything inside was as he had seen before, and even seemed more comfortable and pleasant without the manager's enthusiastic introduction.

The spacious living room has clean wooden floors with no musty smell.

The floor had just been waxed and gleamed.

He placed the suitcase on the ground and took a deep breath. The air was filled with a pleasant, clean scent, unlike the strange smell of Cohen Street, a mixture of horse manure and coal smoke.

Michelle went straight to the study.

Pushing open the door, a room bathed in sunlight came into view.

The study in the new house isn't very big, but it's decorated very tastefully.

Clearly, the previous owner had put in some effort.

The desk faces the window, outside which is the small, exquisite back garden, where a few holly trees remain green in the cold wind.

Michel walked over, gently pushed open the window, and the fresh air, carrying the scent of earth and plants, rushed in, instantly invigorating him.

This is the place where he should truly showcase his talents!

I remember the miserable life I had endured before!

Michelle put down her suitcase, sat down at the desk, and enjoyed the comfort of her new study.

He closed his eyes, and his experiences after transmigrating flashed through his mind...

From the embarrassment of being chased for rent by the landlady, to the anxiety in front of the newspaper editor, to the fame and money brought by each piece of work, and finally to renting this apartment.

Now, he finally has a safe haven of his own.

But this stability comes at a price.

The rent is ten guineas a month, which amounts to a whopping £120 a year – no small sum.

Although "A Study in Scarlet" brought him a large sum of money, after paying rent and sending money to his family, there was hardly any left.

"Indeed, poverty is the greatest motivation for writing books."

Michelle chuckled softly to herself.

He must begin new creative work as soon as possible in order to maintain a good standard of living in this era.

Michelle settled into a relaxed, reclining position on the chair and began to contemplate her next creative endeavor.

First of all, it would be inappropriate to release a new novel while "A Study in Scarlet" was still being serialized in "Bentley's Notebooks".

A short story is just right; it keeps the story popular while also earning you royalties.

He quickly sifted through the works of short story masters in his mind. O. Henry? He'd already heavily adapted "The Last Leaf," with good results. Chekhov? He'd already skimmed two of his stories...

Who else is there?

Guy de Maupassant.

The name jumped into his mind.

Maupassant excelled at depicting the joys and sorrows of people at the bottom of society with a detached and incisive style. His short stories are ingeniously structured, with captivating plots and often unexpected and ironic endings.

This is exactly the type of story that British readers of this era would enjoy.

He began to recall Maupassant's representative works.

"Boule de Suif," "The Necklace," and "My Uncle Jules" are three masterpieces...

"Boule de Suif" is set during the Franco-Prussian War, and deals with war and human nature, so adapting it will require a lot of effort...

"The Necklace" is also a brilliant work, and its critique of excessive vanity and the problem of class stratification are also present in British society.

However, in terms of style, it is slightly different from his past style of focusing on ordinary people at the bottom of society.

I've only recently gained some fame, so I should solidify my existing fanbase. This could be a backup option for now.

What about "My Uncle Jules"?

Michelle's thoughts eventually settled on this novel.

The story of "My Uncle Jules" is not complicated.

This work tells the story of an ordinary family who sent their younger brother, Jules, to America because he squandered the family fortune. Later, Jules wrote to say that he had made a fortune and was willing to compensate his family. The whole family then regarded him as their only hope and looked forward to his return every day. As a result, their second daughter got engaged.

When the family went on a trip to Jersey, they unexpectedly discovered that the old sailor selling oysters on the boat was none other than Jules, who had returned home in dire straits. The parents' expectations instantly turned into fear and disgust, and they hurriedly took a detour to avoid him, fearing that they would be dragged down by him. Only the young "I" felt sympathy and secretly gave the uncle a tip. Family affection was shown to be cold and realistic in the face of money.

This story is full of satire on human nature and exposure of social realities...

This novel was relatively easy to adapt... after all, Britain and France are like family...

The story could easily be set in a small seaside town in England.

The characters' identities, family relationships, and even the scenes on the ferry can be naturally transplanted into modern Britain.

Most importantly, the story's yearning for "sudden wealth" and its ultimate disillusionment resonate with readers across time and borders, making it easy for them to connect with the narrative.

Michelle picked up a quill pen and wrote "My Uncle John" in large letters on the paper.

Jules is a common French name; the famous Jules Verne shares the same name, just with a different translation. Therefore, this name, which has been drastically altered, must be changed.

In England, the name corresponding to Jules is undoubtedly John.

On a London street, if you call out "John," you'll probably get quite a few people turning around...

Next, he began to conceive the framework of the story, replacing the French-background characters and place names with more British elements.

For example, Uncle John, who makes a living selling oysters, could easily become a seaside vendor or a dockworker...

The ferry my family was on could be changed to a steamship that departs from the Thames Estuary in London and heads to some holiday resort...

He even conceived a brilliant opening that could be combined with the distinctly British class consciousness…

After all, family and class have always been unavoidable themes in British literature...

In Britain, a person's fate is often decided at birth.

He murmured to himself, his pen gliding across the paper, leaving lines of text, completely immersed in the joy of creation...