I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 43: Piracy

With the publication of Mikhail's two latest novels, let's not talk about their impact on the cultural circle of St. Petersburg today, let's just talk about the real things.

At this moment, in the editorial office of "Fatherland Chronicle", Krajewski, the publisher, looked at the latest subscription statistics for this issue. The solemnity and seriousness on his face, which he always wore to show his status, was obviously no longer able to be maintained. It seemed that it would turn into a bright smile in an instant, surprising everyone around him.

As mentioned earlier, Krajewski is a liberal. His freedom is reflected in his ability to adapt to new ideas very quickly, as long as the emergence of such new ideas is conducive to the growth of magazine subscriptions.

For this reason, although he had been surprised by Belinsky's sudden change of mind, he no longer had any objections after seeing the magazine's subscription volume.

The same is true today. Although to a certain extent, he feels quite uncomfortable with some elements and tendencies in Mikhail's novels, it doesn't matter. As long as there are subscriptions, it's fine.

As for how much it has grown...

Nicodin, the editor who presented this data to Krajewski, was the first to exclaim, "Compared to the previous issue, this issue's subscriptions have increased by nearly 300 copies! My God, that's almost as much as our growth in the entire year last year!"

It is hard to imagine that a new writer could bring us such growth; the last time it was achieved was by dear Vissarion! But his work certainly deserves such attention, and by now every respectable family in St. Petersburg must have heard of his novels."

"You're wrong, Nicodin." As if sensing something dangerous in the editor's words, the publisher coughed lightly, quickly regaining his composure, and then he said:
"The growth in subscriptions is the result of the collective efforts of all of us. How can we simply attribute it to one or two people? That's unfair."

In that case, there hasn't been any change in the remuneration paid to us.

What's more, let alone us, even Vissarion, who promoted and maintained the subscription of the magazine, could only get a little.

Although editor Nicodin complained in his heart, he didn't say much to this publisher who was quite reputable in the cultural world. However, out of his admiration for Mikhail and what he had seen before, he still spoke again:

"Dear Krajewski, in that case, if this young man has another manuscript, I suggest that his remuneration be increased..."

"That would spoil the young man's Nicotine." Before the editor could finish, Krajewski, with a solemn expression, flatly refused, "How could a writer's remuneration increase so much in such a short period of time? I was already surprised by the price you negotiated with me last time, but considering the young man's situation, I finally agreed.

How can it be possible to improve it again after such a short time? Besides, who else would be willing to accept his novels that are unclear in their tendencies and out of step with the current trends, except for our "Fatherland Chronicle"?

Seeing that Krajewski had said this, editor Nicodin naturally had nothing to say. He could only do his own thing helplessly, leaving Krajewski there to continue admiring the statistical data.

In fact, to a certain extent, Kraevsky's current attitude has actually been spoiled by these dedicated and idealistic writers and young people in Russia.

In today's Russia, those who are willing to contribute to the cultural field are either nobles who have no worries about food and clothing but are enthusiastic about cultural undertakings, or young people who have certain expectations and ideals.

Since aristocrats were not short of money, they were often willing to donate their works for free to support new magazines, thus bringing new prospects to the Russian cultural scene. This is actually an old tradition in Russia, and it indirectly led to the subsequent rampant piracy in Russia. You can find free resources for almost anything on Russian websites.

The reason for this is actually closely related to the sense of social responsibility of the writers of this period.

In short, the writers and political commentators of this period believed that their works were not only a kind of cultural consumer product, but also a form of education for the people, and that the people would learn something useful from their works.

Therefore, many of them will give up their copyrights soon after their novels are serialized and published.

People like Lao Tu and Lao Tu have done such things. Lao Tu is the more extreme one. Not only does he sell the copyright of his works at extremely low prices, he also requires booksellers to sell the works at the lowest possible prices.

Later, revolutionary writers of the Silver Age inherited this tradition, and during the Soviet period, this tradition was further developed.

But then again, although this behavior is noble, it is like the sky falling for some small publishers and cash-strapped authors.

Apart from anything else, Lao Tuo would definitely be the first to disagree, and he would say:
Fuck you! You nobles have food and drink, but I have to use this royalty to pay off my gambling debts and support my whole family...

Ahem…

Of course, this behavior is undoubtedly noble. After all, for most people, who would complain about having too much money?
Krajewski naturally belongs to that majority.

In addition to getting manuscripts from these noble gentlemen, it is even easier to get them from young people.

Simple-minded, passionate, idealistic but inexperienced, it is always easiest to exploit this group of people, even in revolutions.

In this era, countless young people will take to the streets and strive for those illusory concepts and ideals, but what will be left in the end?

In short, as an authority in the cultural world, it was easy for Krajewski to use his authority and idol status to dominate those young people.

Although Krajewski had not yet met Mikhail formally, he was sure that Mikhail might be a little different from many young people he had met, but not too different.

While Kraevsky was thinking this, on the other side, at Panaev's house, Belinsky and other group members gathered as usual, but today's activities were slightly different. They were all staring at Mikhail blankly, and then listened to him say:
"I look at Kraevsky like a man hanging on a stake! He's just like Plyushkin!"

(End of this chapter)