Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 520 "Pirates of the Caribbean"... A serialized picture book? (Bonus Chapter 2)

It rained all night in London and hadn't stopped by morning.

Dr. Norman McLeod sat silently in the editor-in-chief's office of Good Words magazine, with the manuscript of Pirates of the Caribbean on his desk.

He wasn't angry or uneasy, but frustrated, because he knew all too well how good this thing was.

This novel moves at a pace as fast as the sea breeze, one sentence after another, giving you no time to catch your breath.

The characters are also very lifelike; Jack Sparrow's frivolous and cunning demeanor almost leaps off the page.

The most deadly thing is the way of humiliating your opponent—not by defeating them, but by toying with them—making them appear stupid, dull, and arrogant.

The only problem is that the opponent is the British Royal Navy.

McLeod walked back to the table and sat down again. His mind wasn't on the readers' anger, but on the numbers in the telegram he had just received.

The Parisian newspaper Le Petit Parisien saw its single-issue circulation exceed 1.2 million copies; the New York-based Harper's Weekly saw its circulation increase by 20 percent.

He knew what those numbers meant: it wasn't hype or a coincidence, but rather that the readers were truly captivated by the novel.

Once "Pirates of the Caribbean" began its serialization, people would wait at newsstands every morning, read it aloud in pubs, and cut out entire pages to bind into a book.

He has worked in this industry for thirty years, seen too many "safe and mediocre" novels, and personally rejected too many manuscripts that were "too clever and too dangerous."

But this one is different, and this difference is not entirely because the author is Lionel Sorel.

This is the kind of work he secretly admired in his youth, but dared not easily let go of in middle age.

He recalled being twenty-five years old, when he had just joined the newspaper. Back then, he read Dickens and Dumas, fantasizing that one day he could write such wonderful stories.

Later, he became an editor and learned to be cautious—what could be published, what couldn't, what needed to be revised, and what needed to be rejected...

He became a respectable man, known as "Dr. MacLeod," a renowned gentleman in London's high society.

He is not afraid of controversy itself. British magazines have a tradition of satire; Punk Buffet spends its days mocking politicians, and The Times dares to criticize the government.

What truly disturbed him was that Pirates of the Caribbean didn't use sharp language to criticize or expose, but rather made people laugh.

It did not righteously accuse the navy of corruption, nor did it stand on moral high ground to denounce the crimes of the empire.

It merely made the Royal Family appear sluggish and rigid in a series of conflicts, thinking themselves clever, only to be manipulated by "Jack Sparrow".

This kind of writing is more dangerous than any political satire because it will make readers laugh out loud!

Once this kind of "laughter" occurs, dignity is lost forever.

The controversy surrounding "The Sign of Four" is still fresh in our minds; "Pirates of the Caribbean" is likely to spark even greater controversy.

Especially retired officers, naval widows, families with generations of service members, and those who believe in the "glory of the Royal Navy"...

The magazine received a massive number of protest letters, and there may even be a large number of customers canceling their subscriptions!
Even without a ban, the pressure will be everywhere: lurking eyes, whispers within the club, subtle reminders from sponsors…

His magazine wasn't a tabloid; it was supported by the price of one shilling per issue paid by respectable British gentlemen.

But the novel sold like hotcakes in France and the United States. And London? Did London pretend it didn't see it?

Others won't think you're conservative; they'll just think you're cowardly!

Now there are two voices arguing in his head...

Dr. Norman McLeod stood up and walked to the window.

The rain stopped, a crack appeared in the clouds, and sunlight slanted down, shining golden light on the wet street.

He suddenly remembered that afternoon when he was twenty-five, sitting in his Oxford dormitory, reading The Count of Monte Cristo, his blood boiling with passion.

Thirty years have passed.

He finally made up his mind and made a decision that he would only make at the age of twenty-five.

He returned to his table, picked up the manuscript, and gently patted it.

"Welcome to London, Jack Sparrow! Hope we all survive."

------------

By the end of June, Paris was already getting so hot that it made people lazy. At only 10 a.m., the sun was already baking the cobblestone streets.

Paris started smelling bad earlier this year than usual, but it's all the British's fault!

Last year, with the support of British capital, Chile won the "guano war" with Bolivia and Peru.

Chile acquired the guano mining areas of Tarapacá and Antofagasta, and ships full of guano were shipped to Britain and then dumped throughout Europe.

Because the quantity of bird droppings was so large and the price so low, farmers simply couldn't resist the temptation, and the French horse manure industry was completely destroyed in a short period of time.

Without fertilizer companies collecting the horse manure from the streets of Paris, the city hall's meager cleanup budget simply cannot solve the problem.

The government has publicly urged citizens to avoid using horse-drawn carriages and instead use other modes of transport, such as bicycles, or simply walk.

But the results were minimal...

The newsstands along the Seine have all put up canvas awnings, and the stall owners are hiding underneath, too lazy to attract customers, just watching the pedestrians coming and going on the street.

It wasn't until noon that a few regulars strolled over to buy the day's copy of "Le Petit Parisien".

In the serialized version, "Pirates of the Caribbean" has now featured the cursed, immortal pirates aboard the "Black Pearl."

Readers who bought the newspaper couldn't wait and walked while reading, almost bumping into a lamppost.

Such scenes are playing out all over Paris.

In pubs, workers huddled together during their lunch breaks to listen to the newspapers being read; in salons, ladies whispered about Jack's latest witty remarks; in university dormitories, students debated the plot's direction. Jacques Sparrow became the hottest name in Parisian summer.

But gradually, people noticed something strange—Pirates of the Caribbean wasn't being serialized in Modern Life.

This literary weekly, run by Georges Charpentier, has long been an important platform for the works of Lionel Sorel.

This time, however, Pirates of the Caribbean has been exclusively serialized in Le Parisien for two weeks, while Modern Life has remained silent.

Discussions began to break out in the coffee shop.

"Lionel and Charpentier have fallen out?"

"Impossible, right? They've been working together for years."

"Then why isn't it published in Modern Life? Usually, it's serialized in both magazines at the same time."

"Perhaps Charpentier thinks this story is too 'cliché' and not worthy of his weekly magazine?"

"Come on, Modern Life isn't Two World Review, it's not that high and mighty."

"That means the money wasn't agreed upon. I heard that Hachette and Michel Levy are both trying to poach Lionel, and they're offering very high prices."

More and more outrageous speculations are emerging.

Some say they saw Lionel and Charpentier arguing in a restaurant, others say Charpentier thinks "Pirates of the Caribbean" isn't serious enough, and still others say Lionel wants to start his own magazine...

These rumors, fueled by the July heatwave, grew increasingly embellished and seemed more and more true.

Until July 1st.

That morning, something suddenly appeared in the windows of major bookstores and newsstands in Paris: a thin booklet.

The cover was printed in full color, which was rare at the time. The colors were bright, suggesting that a "multicolor" printing technique was used.

A person is depicted in the very center of the picture:

He stood on a leaning mast, with the bow of a sinking ship beneath his feet, and waves churning around him;
He wore a worn-out tricorn hat with the brim pulled low, but it couldn't hide his cunning eyes;

He had long hair and a stubble-covered face, giving him a rough, cynical look; the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, as if he had just said something witty.

His long coat was already very worn out, and a wide leather belt was tied around his waist, with a curved knife and a pistol hanging from it.

The wind was strong in the scene, blowing his hair and clothes belt backward...

Elegance and ruggedness are wonderfully blended together in this painting and in this person.

Everyone who passes by the shop window stops.

"That's... Jacques Sparrow?"

"It definitely is! Just like I thought!"

"No, it's even better than I expected!"

People crowded in front of the shop window, staring at the brochure and at the name "Jacques Sparrow" on it.

The book covers of this era were characterized by being "exquisite yet monotonous." The background colors were usually a fixed combination of dark red, dark blue, and dark green, with complex geometric or floral patterns outlined on the four sides using gold paint. The book title and author's name were then outlined in cursive script using the same gold paint, and the cover was complete.

No one expected that the book cover could fit an entire portrait, and in color at that!
The booklet wasn't thick, probably no more than 100 pages, and the cover title was in cursive: "Pirates of the Caribbean 1".

The readers were bewildered.

"Le Petit Parisien" has been serializing it for two weeks, and Charpentier is releasing a standalone book now? That's not right!

Novels are usually published after they've finished being serialized in newspapers. Now the story has only just begun, so who will buy the book?

Someone pointed to the booklet and asked, "Boss, what's this?"

The bookstore owner smiled mysteriously: "Something new. Would you like to buy a copy and take a look?"

"Is this a novel? A novel based on Pirates of the Caribbean?"

"It's 'Pirates of the Caribbean,' but it's not a novel."

"what is that?"

"Series Picture Books"

The boss uttered an unfamiliar word.

The reader was even more confused: "A series of picture books? What does that mean?"

"Why don't you buy it and see for yourself!"

In the end, curiosity prevailed over reason, and many people bought a copy.

The price was neither cheap nor expensive, roughly equivalent to three copies of Le Parisien.

But its cover is just too tempting! Jacques Sparrow looks like he stepped right out of people's most beautiful imaginations of him!
Even if the content inside is terrible, the cover alone makes it worth collecting.

After buying the books, people couldn't wait to open them.

The first page is a full-page painting, but it has been turned into black and white.

The painting still depicts Jacques standing on the mast of a wrecked ship, with a caption below: "A man arrives in Port Royal, Jamaica, aboard a wrecked ship."

This was not beyond the reading experience of Parisian readers; such illustrations or satirical drawings appeared from time to time in 19th-century newspapers, each with an explanation at the bottom.

But the problem is, above Captain Jacques' head, there's a bubble-shaped oval frame with text printed inside!

This left the Parisians completely baffled!
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