I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 21 A Novel for the Masses

When Mikhail said that, everyone present fell into an unusual silence and looked at him in unison, but this silence was soon broken by Pavlovna.

The sturdy woman was stunned at first, then instantly beamed with emotion and exclaimed, "Oh my God! This is a college student! Mikhail, I knew you could do it. How about the remuneration? Can you pay the remaining rent?"

"It might be a little difficult at first." Mikhail added, watching Pavlovna's amazing facial expression. "But it shouldn't take long, because I'll be writing some new articles soon, and then I should be able to settle everything."

"Is that so?" Pavlovna's smile faded slightly, but overall, this intimidating face still retained some kindness. "Then you must work hard. It's rare to have such a good job where you can make money just by writing."

"Versilov, do you see that? That's a college student." The young civil servant Smirnov was surprised for a moment, but quickly reacted. He then looked at the small businessman Versilov with a hint of pride, and continued to emphasize his point:
"I just said that as long as you find the right direction, even I can participate in writing, let alone college students? Oh, dear college student, what are you writing? Is it a joke or a funny story? Maybe we can exchange ideas."

Before Mikhail could reply, Versilov, looking rather unhappy, retorted: "Come on, Smirnov! How could university students write such ridiculous jokes as yours? I know what university students are talking about these days; I've heard it in cafes many times. It's all just empty talk, and it has nothing to do with us!"

"That's not the case, Versilov." Mikhail finally found the opportunity to speak, so he smiled and said, "I write about the most common people and things in Russia today. You must have seen these people and these things somewhere."

"That's hard to say." The stubborn merchant Versife insisted on his opinion and shook his head.

"What poetry or novel can be more intelligible than the figures in an account book? How can they move the heart as much as the ruble? No, sometimes I get a headache just listening to the articles in the magazines. And yet young people are so excited about it. I just can't understand it."

"Mikhail," Nastasya, the old maid who had been listening for a long time, came over with a tray of something and urged Mikhail as she walked, "Why don't you bring over what you wrote and read it? We'll know what it is like if we listen to it."

It was obvious that Nastasya said this more out of a desire to watch the fun, not because she was really interested in what Mikhail wrote.

And Nastasya, with green eyes, really thought so. After all, how could a country woman like her understand what was written by a college student?
Seeing this, Mikhail wanted to decline, but seeing that everyone present was showing a bit of interest, Mikhail hesitated for a moment, then nodded and said, "Okay, if you are interested. The publishing house just sent me a magazine, the same one you handed me this morning, Nastasia. I'll read a little bit from it."

Although there are sometimes barriers to literature, it is indeed difficult to enter it without a certain aesthetic sense.

But if a novel like this, written for the people, shouldn't be read to the general public, then to whom should it be read?

Seeing Mikhail actually nod, everyone present was taken aback, some even looking at each other, not knowing what to say. Because of the literacy rate in those days, having someone read a letter to you, or even having someone else write a sentence for you, was common, but listening to a novel was a first for everyone present.

Besides, apart from those noble lords who don’t have to do any work, who else has the leisure and elegance to do this?
Although somewhat surprised, most people present at this moment still turned their attention to this poor college student, who is very rare in Russia today, and were ready to listen to what he was like.

Of course, there were also people who were not interested, like our majestic landlord Pavlovna, who had returned to her samovar at this moment to prevent anyone from stealing some in the chaos.

Meanwhile, the small landlord Tusenbacher at the table was still trying hard to put more food into his mouth. No matter what happened in the outside world, he could not be disturbed by his determination.

In such a somewhat chaotic atmosphere, Mikhail stood up with the magazine he had just received in his hand. After turning to the page where "Vanka" was located, Mikhail was also making final mental preparations.

To be honest, although I have done similar things, it is impossible not to be nervous about something like this, where you have to show up in front of a crowd. Mikhail in later generations was just an ordinary college student, the kind who studied hard for twenty years and earned five or six thousand yuan when he graduated.

Have you ever done such a big job?
Of course, there is experience.

The original owner often spoke passionately and eloquently in college, despising the tsar and the nobles. Mikhail's heart trembled when he recalled his passionate and excited look.

And now Mikhail is not bad either. He has given several group presentations in college that no one listened to.
Cough
But the most important thing is that Mikhail actually learned a little recitation, that is, to put his emotions into the article he is going to read, and to add a beginning, a middle, and an end at the right time. If he does not have this ability, it would be very embarrassing to read the novel to others.

To put it bluntly, it's the same as giving a speech. People without any skills will treat you as fart, but those with some skills can go to a beer hall and try it.
At this moment, looking at these ordinary citizens of modern Russia, Mikhail pondered for a moment and finally began to read out:
"Vanka Zhukov, a boy of nine, had been sent three months before to be an apprentice to the shop of the shoemaker Alyakin. On Christmas Eve, he did not go to bed."

Mikhail did not read fast, but he had a good grasp of the rhythm. He was not at all shy when it came to expressing his emotions, and he just tried his best to express the feelings of the poor child that the novel wanted to portray.

"Come, dear grandfather," Vanka continued, "I beg you, for the sake of Christ and God, to take me away from here. Have pity on me, a poor orphan. Everyone here beats me, and I am starving."

(End of this chapter)