Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 500 The French Don't Lie to the French!

The day after the serialization of "The Sun Also Rises" ended, Paris was shrouded in a gray sky.

It wasn't a cloudy day, but the winter sunlight was too weak, shining weakly through the clouds onto the street.

In a private room at the "Golden House Restaurant," Maupassant threw Le Figaro on the table, wailing, "Léon, you're going to kill me!"

He stood up, took a few steps around the private room, then sat down again, picked up his wine glass, and took a big gulp.

Those sitting at the table were the same people from the "Black Forest" trip—Huismann, Alexis, Enik, Seal…

Lionel once said he would write a novel as a tribute to the "Lost Generation," and now that the novel is finished, it's time for the "Lost Generation" to return the favor.

However, most of them were in low spirits.

Maupassant put down his wine glass and looked at Lionel: "Do you know what I did after I finished reading the last issue of the series last night?"

Lionel shook his head.

Maupassant's voice lowered: "I sat at my desk until dawn. I wanted to write something, but I couldn't write a single word."

He paused: "Because I've found that everything I've written about war is an attempt to organize history, to control thought, and then to provide answers."

Even if it's satire, even if it's criticism, I'm telling the reader, 'This is the truth.'

At this point, he stared at Lionel: "But your novel has nothing organized, nothing controlled, and no answers given."

It just sat there, like a puddle of mud that couldn't be cleaned up.

Huysman nodded: "I feel the same way. The problem with this book is not that it is too pessimistic, but that it is too honest."

He exhaled a puff of smoke: "But this kind of honesty is not universal. It will destroy readers and destroy writers. Leon, I must say, you've crossed the line."

Why don't you explain? Since you call us the 'lost generation,' you must be able to explain why all this is happening!

Everyone looked at Lionel, sharing their confusion.

Previously at the Meitang Villa, the discussion focused more on the writing principles and techniques Lionel used in this novel.

But with this unexpected ending, everyone's attention has shifted to the novel's deeper meaning.

Lionel took a sip of his drink and shook his head: "Because some things can't be explained."

Maupassant quickly pressed, "What do you mean?"

Lionel put down his glass: "We all know that you've all changed since the war. But can you explain how you changed?"
What moment? What event? Or what thought?

The private room fell silent again.

Lionel continued, "You can't explain it because it's not a process that can be analyzed."

It just happened, like water seeping into the soil; by the time you notice, the soil is already soaked.

Maupassant stared at the newspaper on the table: "So what you wrote wasn't a novel, but a person refusing to sort out their own life."

Lionel looked at him and smiled slightly: "Guy, you're wavering."

Maupassant paused for a moment.

Lionel repeated, “You wavered because you knew very well that the organization and control you exercised when writing your novel were all to prevent chaos from completely taking over your reason.”

Maupassant opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Alexis suddenly said, “But you gave them Romero. You let Jacques see Romero, see another way of life, another kind of power.”

Readers thought this was a turning point, that Jacques would change because of it. But what happened? Nothing happened! Jacques remained Jacques, and Berthe remained Berthe.

Romero was just a passerby, a phantom.

Lionel nodded: "That's right, because just because you've seen Romero doesn't mean you can become Romero."

Alexi, unwilling to give up, continued, "Then why did you write Romero? Why give readers this hope, only to extinguish it with your own hands?"

Lionel's voice was calm: "If you insist on me stating a 'truth,' then this is the 'truth'—"

We've seen brave people, powerful people, and people who know what they're doing, but we can't become like them.

Like most people in this world, they've heard countless道理 (principles/truths), yet they still can't live a good life.

He looked at everyone present: "This is not because we didn't work hard enough, nor because we weren't smart enough—"

It's not because something is lost, but because some things, once lost, can never be regained.

Huysman said in a low voice, "So Romero is not a redemption, but a contrast."

Cear couldn't help but speak up: "But this is too cruel! You show us the gap, but you don't tell us what to do."

You just said, 'You two can't be like that,' and that's it?"

Lionel didn't answer, he just looked at him.

Enic also said, "I went to a salon yesterday, which was mostly attended by young people. They said that after watching the ending, they felt like they had been left behind by the times."

They asked me, 'So how are we supposed to live?' But I didn't know how to answer, because I myself am part of the 'lost generation.'

Lionel sighed and remained silent, and the private room fell silent again.

Maupassant finally spoke again: "Your book will be severely criticized."

Lionel smiled. "They're already cursing."

Maupassant shook his head: "No, the current criticism is just the beginning. Once more people have read it, and once the critics realize what's happening, the criticism will be even louder!"

He looked at Lionel: “They’ll say you’re negative, callous, that you spread despair in postwar France.” Lionel shrugged: “Let them say what they want.”

Yusman suddenly laughed: "I understand. You don't care at all what they say."

Lionel looked at him without saying a word.

Huysman continued, "You wrote this book not to provide answers, not to comfort readers, and not to please anyone."

All you wanted to say was, 'This is our situation, stop pretending.' You even said you'd dedicate this novel to us…

Lionel raised his glass, interrupting his statement: "Yes, this is for you all, cheers!"

After a moment's hesitation, everyone raised their glasses, and the clinking of glasses sounded like dreams shattering.

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In the past few days, the editorial department of Le Figaro has received three times more letters than usual.

Editor-in-Chief Periver sat in his office, dozens of newly delivered letters piled up in front of him. He opened a few and his expression grew increasingly grave.

I am a 35-year-old man who works at a bank.

In 1870, I was in Sedan and witnessed the defeat of our army. After returning, I got married, had children, and went to work on time every day.

I thought I had recovered. But after watching "The Sun Also Rises," I realized that I had never recovered.

I've just learned to pretend. Pretend I have goals, pretend I have hope, pretend everything is fine.

Jacques didn't pretend, which is why he seemed such a failure. But if I pretended, would I have succeeded? I don't know.

Mr. Sorel, why did you write such a book? Why did you expose our pretense?
Now I can't even pretend anymore.

Periver put down the letter and picked up another one, this one written by a woman:
I watched the scene where Berthe finally returned to Jacques' side three times, and I wanted to cry every time.

It wasn't because I was moved, it was because it was so real.

My husband is like Jacques. He doesn't speak, he doesn't explain, he just sits there. I once thought he would get better; I waited ten years.

Now I know he won't get better. That's just how he is.

Should I leave him? I don't know. Just like Bert, she didn't know either.

So she returned to Jacques not because of love, but because she had nowhere else to go.

Mr. Sorel, you are right—freedom does not equal happiness, and choices do not guarantee the outcome!

But why didn't you tell us sooner?

Forget it, even if we had told you earlier, we wouldn't have believed you...

Periver put down the letter and rubbed his temples.

The impact of this novel has far exceeded his expectations.

Le Figaro hasn't had such an influential novel in a long time!
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Le Gaul published a commentary entitled "Negative Art and Irresponsible Writers":
"The Sun Also Rises is morally irresponsible."

Mr. Sorel showed us the bewilderment of the postwar generation, but refused to offer any solutions.

He shows the reader the gap, the despair, and then stops. This isn't art; this is cruelty!
France has experienced a humiliating defeat. What we need is to rebuild confidence, find direction, and unite to look forward.

But at this time, Mr. Sorel wrote a novel that tells us "you are finished".

Does he have the right to write it this way? Of course he does.

But we also have the right to question: what good does this kind of novel do for France?
It won't make us stronger or more united; it will only make us doubt ourselves more and lose our direction.

Mr. Sorel owes the readers an explanation...

After this commentary was published, other newspapers followed suit.

Almost all mainstream media outlets, including Les Champs-Élysées, Les Repubblica, and Le Parisien, began discussing this issue.

Some support Lionel, saying he wrote the truth; others oppose him, saying he is spreading despair.

The debate intensified, even spreading to cafes, salons, and university classrooms.

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Lionel remained silent for a whole week, waiting for the public opinion to fully develop before giving an interview to Le Figaro.

The interview was arranged in the newspaper office's meeting room, and the questions were very direct:

"Mr. Sorel, many readers and critics believe that the ending of The Sun Also Rises is too pessimistic and does not offer any hope or way out."

What is your response to this?

Lionel was silent for a moment, then said, "I will give everyone an explanation."

The reporter from Le Figaro was stunned, and immediately followed up with, "Really?"

Lionel's "reputation" in this regard has been poor since Christmas 1881.

"The Café" was once touted as a light comedy, and the title "The Sun Also Rises" initially seemed hopeful.

The result is always the same: luring viewers and readers in only to kill them!

Faced with the reporter's questioning gaze, Lionel nodded earnestly: "Of course! The French don't lie to the French!"

(Two chapters complete, thank you everyone!)
(End of this chapter)