Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 518 Parisians Need This!
In the café, a reader put down his newspaper and rubbed his eyes.

He muttered to himself, "This entrance... why does it seem so familiar?"

The person opposite him didn't even look up: "Like in the beginning of 'The Count of Monte Cristo,' Dantès also traveled by ship to the port of Marseille."

"Yes! That's the feeling! But Dantès returned victorious, while this one... his ship sank?"

"Not only did the ship sink, but he also jumped over from the mast."

The two looked at each other and smiled.

Another customer chimed in, “This one is also called Jacques, Jacques Sparrow—Sorel seems to really like the name ‘Jacques’ lately.”

Jacques de Bana in *The Sun Also Rises*, Saint-Jacques in *The Old Man and the Sea*… and now we have Jacques Sparrow.

"At least this Jacques looks much more interesting."

So they continued reading.

The story serialized in Le Petit Parisien was one of the stories Lionel told aboard the Perel, and it was also the only series of stories in the series:
Pirates of the Caribbean!
Captain Jack Sparrow, naturally, becomes "Captain Jacques" in French, and his entrance was quite creative—

Standing atop the mast of a small, sinking boat, one gracefully enters the British naval port and steps onto the harbor pier before the sea completely engulfs the mast…

It immediately struck a chord with French readers who yearned for romance.

Then, Jacques Sparrow's identity was gradually revealed: he was a pirate who had his beloved "Black Pearl" stolen by his traitorous subordinates.

Then came the classic scene of Jacques Sparrow causing chaos in the British Royal Naval port—

Hundreds of elite British Royal Navy soldiers were unable to capture him, allowing him to frolic and play around in the naval port, using the terrain, cables, masts, and more.

Until he hid in a blacksmith's shop and met a young and handsome blacksmith...

The dramatic plot, humorous writing style, vivid and exaggerated characters... all of these make it irresistible to French readers.

Especially after so many twists and turns, what story could be more appealing to everyone than "French pirates outwitting the British navy"?
This Pirates of the Caribbean film immediately caused a sensation.

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Around noon, dockworkers gathered in small groups along the roadside, some squatting, some leaning against the wall, waiting for the bell to ring for the afternoon shift to begin.

A young worker named Jean pulled out a copy of "Le Petit Parisien" that he had just bought from his pocket.

He wasn't very literate, but he recognized the name Sorel; he had heard someone read "The Old Man and the Sea" aloud in a tavern last time.

An old worker nearby muttered, "Let him buy a newspaper again? He'd be better off buying a piece of cheese with that money."

He ignored her and instead opened the literary supplement of the newspaper, squinting as he struggled to read it.

A few people nearby, who had been yawning, noticed that he was looking at it intently and came over to ask, "What's that you're writing?"

Although the reading was halting, the story was simple and everyone could understand it.

A man arrived at a harbor by boat...

The audience was immediately reminded of Alexandre Dumas's "The Count of Monte Cristo," in which Edmond Dantès made his entrance in the same manner.

But as Jacques Sparrow gracefully leaped onto the pier, the workers listening nearby grinned from ear to ear.

"That entrance was so flashy!"

"More interesting than Dantès, this Jacques, hey, seems like a trickster."

Before they knew it, the work bell rang, and the supervisor was shouting orders.

The workers could only suppress their smiles, stuff the newspapers into their work pockets, and walk inside with their heads down.

But several people were muttering to themselves as they walked.

"What happened next? Were they arrested?"

"Go to the tavern at night and find someone who can read to read."

"The British will definitely arrest him, won't they?"

"That is required."

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In the long corridor of the Veterans' Home, the morning sunlight shines in at an angle, dividing the stone floor into two halves of light and shadow.

Several veterans sat on a bench, some sunbathing, some polishing their old medals, so quiet that only the occasional cough could be heard.

Henry, a veteran missing a leg, slowly reads a copy of "Le Petit Parisien" with a blank expression.

He was wounded in Metz in 1870; he had previously served as a corporal in the army.

When he read the passage about Jacques Sparrow jumping off the ship, he snorted, "Nonsense."

An old soldier who was blind in one eye turned his head and asked, "What?"

Henry handed over the newspaper: "A new novel, written by Sorel. The protagonist is a pirate, and the plot is about tricking the British Navy."

The one-eyed veteran leaned closer, glancing at the headline with his remaining eye: "Pirates? Fighting the British?"

"Ah."

“Read it aloud.”

Henry continued reading, and gradually, other veterans gathered around.

As the plot unfolds, Jacques Sparrow uses the ships, crates, ropes, and scaffolding in the naval port to leap and dodge pursuit, outmaneuvering British soldiers.

The veterans couldn't help but mutter to themselves:
"Is this all the British are capable of?"

"Are you lining up so neatly to receive relief porridge?"

Although some people frowned, many more grinned.

An old soldier with a hunched back said with dissatisfaction: "Fictionalization is not nonsense, and adaptation is not random fabrication!"

What officer would be so stupid? If they really wanted to catch them, a volley of gunfire would turn any pirate into a sieve.

The one-eyed veteran shook his head: "You don't understand. Sorel isn't writing about real combat; he's writing for fun."

Look at what he wrote about those British soldiers; they're like blocks of wood, only good at lining up, and completely lost when things get chaotic.

As the plot unfolded, the veterans laughed more and more heartily: "This Sorel is quite interesting!"

The hunched old soldier retorted, "What's so interesting about that?"

The one-eyed veteran patiently explained, "This person can escape; he's not fighting head-on, he's just playing with them."

If we had been this quick-witted back then, maybe a few of us could have survived! ——————————

In the Latin Quarter, there's a small pub called "The Kiss of the Muse".

This is the territory of college students, down-on-their-luck painters, third-rate poets, and radical youths.

The air is always filled with the smells of smoke, alcohol, and sweat.

The walls were covered with messy posters, the table was full of scratches, and the chair legs were never straight.

At eight o'clock in the evening, the tavern was already packed with people, mostly young people.

Some were debating politics, some were reciting their own poems, and some were simply drinking.

But today, a large table in the corner became the focus.

Several copies of Le Petit Parisien were spread out on the table, and a bespectacled literature student was standing on a chair, loudly reading from Pirates of the Caribbean.

He read it aloud with great expression, adding gestures as well.

When the reading reached the part about Jacques jumping off the ship, he made an exaggerated jumping motion, almost falling off his chair, which drew laughter from the audience.

When he read about Jacques Sparrow making fun of British soldiers in the naval port, the tavern erupted in laughter, with some banging on the table and others whistling.

"Yes! Let's just mess with them like that!"

"The British deserve it!"

"Long live Jacques Sparrow!"

When the first episode ended, a chorus of wails erupted in the tavern.

"Gone?"

"Is this gone?"

"Sorel broke down here again!"

The student wearing glasses jumped off the chair, wiping the sweat from his forehead: "That's all, see you next time."

A painter with freckles raised his glass: "Cheers to Jacques Sparrow!"

"cheers!"

Dozens of glasses clinked together, spilling wine all over the table.

After everyone sat down, they began to discuss among themselves.

"This Jacques is exactly the person I've always dreamed of being—free and unrestrained, with no one to tell me what to do!"

"But he's a pirate, and being a pirate is illegal."

"Law? Who made the law? The British made the law? To hell with it."

"Have you noticed the name Jacques?"

"what happened?"

"Sorel has been using this name a lot lately. The impotent journalist in 'The Sun Also Rises' is named Jacques de Barnes, and the stubborn old man in 'The Old Man and the Sea' is named Saint-Jacques."

Now we have Jacques Sparrow.

"so what?"

"So he's playing word games. The same name, three completely different ways of living. One is confused, one is resilient, and one is carefree."

He was asking us, "Which one is right?"

The tavern was quiet for a few seconds.

Then the long-haired youth said, "Who cares which is right? I just like Jacques Sparrow. Confusion is too tiring, perseverance is too bitter, being carefree is better!"

"But can such carefree living last?"

"So what if it doesn't last? At least I had my fun!"

Everyone laughed again.

The tavern owner then knocked on the counter: "Quiet down! The neighbors are complaining!"

Nobody paid him any attention. Laughter, arguments, and the clinking of glasses continued into the night.

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Meanwhile, in the editorial office of Le Parisien, editor-in-chief Paul Pigutt couldn't stop smiling as he looked at the newly delivered sales forecast.

He told the distribution manager, "Print an extra 50% tomorrow!"

"Wouldn't that be too much? Our circulation is already a full 700,000 copies per issue! Adding another 50% would exceed... exceed..."

Pigut laughed. "A million copies! Is that a lot? Look outside. How long has it been since Paris laughed so easily?"

Yes, how long has it been since Paris laughed so easily?

The past year has seen pension crisis, bank failures, the Occupy movement, political infighting...

The newspapers were full of bad news every day, and the cafes were filled with somber discussions.

People are on edge, either angry, frustrated, or numb.

Then Jacques Sparrow arrived.

Imagine riding a sunken ship, jumping onto a pier, dusting off your hat, and winking at the whole of Paris.

He didn't preach, didn't criticize, and didn't make you think about any profound truths.

He just showed off, escaped with his life, and incidentally made a fool of the British Royal Navy.

Parisians need this!
They need to temporarily forget about the national debt, forget about unemployment, and forget about whether bread will go up in price tomorrow.

They need to read a story that requires no brainpower, no empathy, and no moral burden.

They needed to see a Frenchman—even a pirate—outsmart the British.

This isn't literature, it's stress relief!

So when the first installment ended abruptly at its climax, and the words "Stay tuned for the next installment" appeared—

Readers throughout Paris, whether workers, veterans, middle-class, nobles, or students, all voiced the same complaint:
Lionel, why did you cut it off again?!
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(End of this chapter)