I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 63 Petersburg New Wave
With the release of the latest issue of "Fatherland Chronicle", in addition to the apparent increase in magazine sales, a wave that cannot be underestimated has also begun to stir in St. Petersburg, that is, more and more people have begun to use the name "Ochumelov" to describe those who they hate and have chameleon-like tendencies.

Just like when Gogol's "Dead Souls" was published, people used the name "Plyushkin" to replace the miser.

This is often the treatment only given to the most classic characters in literature, such as Shakespeare's Hamlet and Charlotte, Cervantes' Don Quixote, Balzac's Grandet, and so on.

In the eyes of others, the emergence of this phenomenon undoubtedly means that Mikhail can create a character worthy of being recorded in the history of Russian literature at his current age, which makes some people in the cultural circle call him God.

If that were the case, it would definitely be a good thing, as it would undoubtedly have once again put the name Mikhail into the hearts of many people, but at the same time, of course, something else happened.

For example, one time, Mikhail had just come out of Panayev's house and was strolling on the street to digest his food when he suddenly saw a group of well-dressed young people walking by. The key point was that they were just walking away. When they passed a patrolman, they probably had some conflict, so one of the young people immediately looked at the patrolman and said with contempt:

"Ochumelov!"

Mikhail, who was digesting his food, said: "???"

Oh my god! Can young people have some manners?
And you don’t have to curse like this, right?

Don't you feel uncomfortable just saying 'fuck your mother'?

It would be fine if the patrolman didn't understand, but he was just confused and didn't take what these young people said to heart.

But the patrolman blushed and yelled, "Fuck your mother, you're Ochumelov! Your whole family is Ochumelov!"

After waving something in his hand to protest to the group of young people, the patrolman's temper still didn't cool down, so he kept saying: "Oh my God! What on earth are these lecherous writers writing nowadays! How dare they insult others' reputations like this! They should all be thrown in jail, and their articles should go to hell!"

Mikhail: “…”

First of all, I'm really not a pervert. Secondly, it's them who are scolding you, not the writers. Finally, I have to get out of here.
Mikhail adjusted his hat and walked forward calmly.

But apart from that, Mikhail did see a few patrolmen who were enjoying themselves listening to the novel. They would gather together and laugh while saying to the people next to them: "Hey! The guy who wrote this kind of article must be a smart guy! I like his humor! But he better not be caught by our chief Stanislav, otherwise he will definitely make him regret it!"

Mikhail: “…”

Please don’t attribute the work to me!

Regardless of what people say or how much they argue, to be honest, Mikhail doesn't really care about this kind of thing. After all, everyone around him is currently doing this kind of tough work, and he doesn't stand out that much among them.

Let's not talk about others first, let's talk about Nekrasov. The poem "On the Road" that he planned to include in the "Petersburg Anthology" describes the tragic experiences of workers and abused women, and thus reveals the miserable lives of peasants under serfdom. Previously, due to the strict censorship system, Russia had never published such a sharp criticism of serfdom. After listening to Nekrasov recite this poem, Belinsky immediately hugged him and said to him with tears in his eyes: "Do you know that you are a poet? A true poet at that."

It is worth mentioning that the inspiration for this poem should come from Nekrasov’s personal experience and growing environment, because Nekrasov’s father is that kind of beastly landlord who does everything that is not like a human being, and often beats him and his mother after getting drunk.

In short, Mikhail's mentality was indeed: "Forget it, just do it. Nekrasov, Belinsky, Turgenev. They all did it."

Apart from these two small things, after the publication of "The Chameleon", Mikhail still followed his usual practice and chose a time when everyone was a little free to read his novel to them.

Since I read them the first two stories, many people in the apartment have shown great interest in Mikhail's novels. In their own words:
"Mikhail, just listening to your novels will tell you that you are still that poor college student. You can't write as hard to understand as those noble gentlemen! But seriously, your novels are the best I have ever heard."

"Please, Mikhail, read it to me when I'm here. Although I can't read, I always feel that the things you read to me are echoing in my mind. If I don't listen to them anymore, I always feel like something is missing."

"Dear Mikhail, your writing is very good, but don't you have any stories that are a little lighter and more humorous? You are almost making me cry my eyes out!"

Regarding the last point, although the last "Poor People" still couldn't get rid of the sad background, it was a novel with a relatively warm ending. After Mikhail read this novel to them, I don't know if it was Mikhail's illusion, but I always felt that the atmosphere in the apartment had become much better during that period, and it seemed that everyone was proud that they were doing good things.

Even the dignified landlady Pavlovna became much more generous during that period, although she often felt distressed about it.
Today was the day for Mikhail's irregular reading session. It was almost after lunch, and everyone in the apartment who was busy all had a short break.

To be honest, the scene was certainly not solemn enough. Those who should be eating were still eating, and those who should be taking care of their children were still taking care of their children. Some wives would look up and listen for a while while doing needlework, and some children could not sit still at all and would probably slip away after listening curiously for a while.

And when Mikhail finished his recitation, they didn't say anything particularly nice, let alone use some artistic terms to comment on the novel Mikhail read or express their special feelings. At most, they would shout, "Well written, Mikhail."

But Mikhail quite liked this atmosphere of order amidst the chaos.

Maybe even more than the party at Panaev's house.

In short, when everything was ready, the moment Mikhail opened his mouth, the originally chaotic situation suddenly became quiet. The children were held there by their parents and could not move. They just looked at the person who was surrounded by everyone with a little confusion.

Although the needlework lady's hands were constantly moving, her ears were perked up, and the gentlemen who were swearing and making jokes were also able to listen to the novel quietly for a while without getting drunk.

The sunlight shone onto Mikhail through the narrow window and spread around along with his voice.

(End of this chapter)