Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 505: Who is the shark?
Inside the headquarters of Le Parisien, everyone was hurrying along.

This media outlet, which positions itself as a "mass-market newspaper," made a surprising move yesterday—publishing a novel across four full pages.

Not only did it shake Paris on the same day, but starting today, everyone is beginning to feel strong aftershocks!
April 16th, Sunday. The newspaper office should be quieter than usual.

But at this moment, from the editor-in-chief's office to the typesetting room, from the distribution department to the mail processing room, no one could stop moving.

The air was filled with the smell of ink and paper, as well as an atmosphere of excitement and tension.

Editor-in-Chief Paul Pigut's desktop was almost inundated with telegrams and urgent orders.

The 400,000 copies of the newspaper printed in advance for April 15th sold out in Paris and the surrounding area within one morning.

This has broken the single-day sales record since the founding of Le Parisien.

However, this is only the beginning.

Starting in the afternoon, telegrams poured into the building on Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris from all corners of France, as if they had gone mad.

Dealers in Lyon, Marseille, Bordeaux, Lille, Nantes, Toulouse… are requesting additional orders in the most urgent terms.

"Send 50,000 copies immediately! Within two days!" — Marseille.

"Existing orders have doubled! We urgently need to restock!" — Bordeaux

"I'll take as many as you have! The money has been wired!" — Lyon.

The numbers on the order made even the most experienced distribution manager's hands tremble; the 100,000 spare copies they printed last night now seemed like a joke.

Paul Pigut looked at the mountain of telegrams in front of him, and although he tried to appear nonchalant, he failed.

He took out a fine Cuban cigar from his humidor and tried to light it, but it took several strikes of the match to get it on.

Just as he was slowly exhaling the smoke from his cigar, there was a knock on the door.

The deputy editor-in-chief entered, carrying a stack of newly translated telegrams: "Paul, Dijon and Strasbourg are also in dire need of help."

Also, in Nice and Cannes, the holiday season has just begun, and demand is huge. What are we going to do? The printing presses have been running non-stop since midnight last night.

Piglett placed his cigarette beside the ashtray: "Print as many as you can. Tell the printing press to double the wages."

Contact our cooperative printing locations in other provinces, send them the printing plates, and let them print them locally.

The printing quality can be slightly less stringent, but speed is crucial.

The deputy editor nodded and noted it down, then hesitated for a moment before adding, "There's one more thing... People from the Morning Post and the Little Daily came to inquire this morning, asking if we could reprint 'The Old Man and the Sea,' and they'll also be using four pages..."

Paul Pigut scoffed, "Too late. Yesterday some people were saying I was crazy. Ha, who's the crazy one now?"

The deputy editor turned to leave, nearly bumping into a young typesetter who was running excitedly in at the door.

The young man's face lit up, and when he saw Paul Pigut, he almost shouted, "Mr. Pigut! The workers downstairs are all saying that you were absolutely fantastic this time!"

Paul Pigut waved his hand, indicating that he should go about his business.

The young typesetter grinned and ran off; he was already the umpteenth employee to express his respect to him today.

Not to mention the editors and reporters, even the security guards at the gate and the female workers cleaning the type all looked at him differently.

There was admiration, excitement, and a sense of pride in sharing in the moment.

It was he, Paul Pigut, who, against all odds, made the groundbreaking decision to publish the newspaper in four pages at the editorial meeting on April 15th.

The meeting room was completely silent, and several senior editors' expressions revealed their dissatisfaction.

Some grumbled, "This doesn't fit the newspaper's image," others said, "Readers won't buy it," and still others directly questioned, "Did Sorel give you some benefits?"

Paul Pigut didn't explain much, only saying, "Do as instructed, and I'll take responsibility if anything goes wrong!"

Now, instead of a problem, a miracle has occurred!

As it turned out, he not only did the right thing, but this move likely made Le Parisien stand out from Le Monde and Le Petit-Daily, becoming the "number one newspaper for the masses" in terms of sales.

He picked up the newspaper on the table; the front page featured the opening lines of "The Old Man and the Sea," with the epigraph standing out prominently: "A man is not made for defeat..."

Paul Pigut took another drag of his cigarette, thinking to himself that Lionel always seemed to have a knack for pinpointing the strongest pulse of the times.

"The Sun Also Rises" exposes the bewilderment and nihilism of the post-war generation, rubbing salt into the wounds of the pension crisis and plunging all of Paris into depression.

Then, just when people were at their lowest point and needed something the most, he sent them "The Old Man and the Sea"!
A louder commotion erupted downstairs, mixed with the sound of horses' hooves and the postman's shouts. Paul Pigutt walked to the window and looked down.

At the entrance of the newspaper office, the post office carriage stopped again.

Two postmen were unloading several bulging burlap sacks from their vehicle and struggling to drag them toward the mailroom at the side entrance of the building.

Those bags were full of letters from readers.

Starting yesterday afternoon, letters began pouring into the mailboxes of Le Parisien like a winter blizzard.

It seems that every Parisian who reads "The Old Man and the Sea" is eager to share their feelings. Initially, the editorial department organized a few people to open and categorize the letters, but they quickly gave up.

There are too many letters, all kinds of them, often with strong emotions or even incomprehensible words, making it impossible to handle them all.

As the postman delivered several more large bags, everyone could only try to find a place to store the letters, piling them in the corners of the corridor or even under the stairs.

Lionel's past works have also been very sensational—

"The Old Guard" evokes sympathy, "The Choir" warms the heart, "Thunderstorm" is awe-inspiring, "Sherlock Holmes" is captivating, and "The Café" prompts reflection...

However, no other novel has struck the hearts of every reader as directly and profoundly as *The Old Man and the Sea*.

Especially when they had just experienced the "pension crisis" and felt lost about France, the Republic, themselves, and the future.

On the one hand, the indomitable spirit of "the old man and the sea"—that "it can be destroyed but not defeated"—truly inspired them.

On the other hand, Parisians and the French, after a series of blows, also urgently need something to distract themselves and to find a new rhythm in their lives.

Consequently, a frenzied interpretation of the meaning of "The Old Man and the Sea" ensued.

This novel is full of symbols and metaphors, from the old man Saint-Jacques himself, to the loyal boy Manolin, to the huge and beautiful marlin, to the shark, and the lion that the old man dreams of many times...

It seems that there is a lot of room for interpretation for each image.

This desire for interpretation, like wildfire, quickly spread from the distribution center of Le Petit Parisien to the whole of Paris.

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The 7th arrondissement, Mrs. Rothschild's salon, is an elegant and luxuriously decorated space.

Deep red velvet curtains hung down, the fire in the fireplace burned quietly, and the air was filled with the aromas of expensive perfumes, fine cigars, and coffee.

Seven or eight elegantly dressed ladies and young women, along with several well-dressed gentlemen, were sitting together.

On the small round table in front of them, there was naturally a copy of Le Parisien.

Such popular newspapers would not normally appear in their lives, but this issue was different; this issue featured Lionel Sorel and "The Old Man and the Sea."

The hostess of the salon, Madame Éleonor de Rothschild, wore a deep purple silk gown with a neckline adorned with delicate lace.

She leaned back gracefully on the sofa in the host's seat, gently waving a fan with an ivory handle in her hand.

"So, what are your thoughts on Mr. Sorel's new work?"

The whispers stopped.

A professor from the Sorbonne spoke first: "The writing is extremely concise, almost austere, and is in line with his previous work, The Sun Also Rises."

But they are completely different in terms of emotion. "The Sun Also Rises" is about nihilism, while "The Old Man and the Sea" is about celebrating human dignity.

I don't understand why he could create two works with conflicting ideas in such a short period of time, but there's no doubt that Sorel has improved again!

A young viscountess said eagerly, "What touched me most was the boy, Manolin, especially his trust and loyalty to the old man."

When everyone else abandoned Saint-Jacques, only he remained. Perhaps this symbolizes innocence and hope?

An earl pondered, “Perhaps it’s more of a legacy. The old man represents the skills, resilience, and traditions of the past, while the child represents the future.”

Although the old man lost the fish and meat, he passed on the spirit that "man is not born to fail" to his children.

Look at the ending: the child is watching over him, while the old man dreams of a lion—

That symbolizes the strength of his youth, and also that his spirit will never fade.

Mrs. Rothschild nodded slightly, her gaze falling on a young woman who had remained silent: "Claire, what do you think? You seem to really like this story."

Madame Claire de Saint-Oban, whose name was called, raised her eyes.

She had previously criticized "The Sun Also Rises" in a salon for "weakening the image of French men," but this time her opinion had clearly changed.

She said softly, "I was thinking about that marlin. It was so beautiful, so strong, and the old man fought it with almost a sense of admiration and respect."

This didn't seem like a hunter versus prey; it was more like a fateful duel between two equally respected rivals. The old man's emotions were complex when he finally killed it.

Another gentleman, however, was more concerned with the novel's metaphors for reality, and said in a righteous tone: "I think this is clearly talking about France!"
France is like that old man, the 'lion' represents past glory, and the predicament we face is that we haven't caught any fish for eighty-four days.

But we didn't give up, we fought! And those sharks…”

He paused, then his voice grew increasingly menacing: "It's the Prussians! They're the ones who devoured the fruits of France's struggle!"
But in the end, we preserved our backbone—that fishbone! It symbolizes that our spirit was not devoured! This story inspires the French!

This interpretation immediately resonated with more people, and for those in the upper echelons who claim to care about the fate of the nation, this viewpoint was at least quite "safe".

But Madame Rothschild simply listened, gently waving her fan, and said calmly, "Louis, do you really think the shark refers to the Prussians?"

The gentleman named "Louis" looked visibly flustered.

(First update, thank you everyone!)
(End of this chapter)