The person clearest about the circulation of Le Petit Parisien each issue was, of course, its editor-in-chief, Paul Pigout.
He was currently puffing on a cigar, looking at today's sales statistics, which had just arrived and still smelled of ink, his mouth nearly split to his ears.
This number far exceeded his boldest expectations.
The office door was pushed open, and assistant editor Jacques Mathieu excitedly entered:
"Mr. Pigout! The newsboys on the street are reporting that almost everyone asks as soon as they open their mouths, 'Do you have the one with Benjamin Button?'! Newsstands in several districts sold out by morning and are urging us to print more!"
Paul Pigout took a deep drag on his cigar, exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, and proudly tapped on the desk:
"Do you see? This is the magic of Lionel Sorel!
Readers want good stories! Stories that make them open their eyes wide and forget the taste of the black bread in their hands!
That 'reverse-aging' baby is the best bait!"
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the bustling crowd on the street below, as if he could see everyone holding a copy of Le Petit Parisien, eagerly reading The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
He also envisioned the bright prospect of Le Petit Parisien, thanks to the serialization of this novel, surpassing competitors like Le Petit Journal and Le Matin to become the number one newspaper in France.
"Tell the printing press to print more tonight!
Double the print run... no, triple it!
I want all of Paris, from the women factory workers to the shoeshine boys, to be muttering 'Benjamin Button'!"
George Charpentier's colored illustration collecting game is all the rage in the salons?
Fine, let those ladies chase after Renoir's little pictures.
But he, Paul Pigout, with a price of 5 centimes and this incredible yet deeply resonant story, was conquering the 'appetite' of all Paris.
"Benjamin Button," this fictional life created by Lionel, moving backward through time, had already become the most incredible and talked-about 'newborn' in Paris in the spring of 1879.
----
Sunday afternoon, at Mr. Flaubert's apartment at 240 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, it was, as usual, bustling with people, a full house.
However, Ivan Turgenev was not among the attendees; he had returned to Russia while the weather warmed up.
It was said that the great Leo Tolstoy had written him a letter, wanting to reconcile, and perhaps he was hurrying back to see this old friend.
Nevertheless, the lively atmosphere of the salon remained undiminished, and Lionel's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, being the most sought-after novel in Paris that week, naturally received special attention.
On the living room's round table lay several copies of La Vie Moderne and Le Petit Parisien; Huysmans even asked Lionel for the one card he was missing.
To this, Lionel could only spread his hands, indicating that he hadn't collected all the illustration cards either, which made everyone laugh, expressing their disbelief.
Zola suddenly snorted, "A trick!"
His voice carried a joyful, mischievous, and good-natured jealousy.
He looked at Lionel with some emotion:
"When did George become so cunning?
Your novel combined with Renoir's colored illustration collecting gimmick is simply a stroke of genius.
Four illustrations per issue, forcing those ladies to buy several copies of the magazine?
What a business genius!"
Everyone joined in the praise, stating that if Mr. George Charpentier could make this brilliant idea a regular feature, their own new works might as well be published by "Charpentier's Bookshelf."
French writers of this era were not ashamed of talking about profit or engaging in business; on the contrary, they were very keen on making big money.
Not to mention Balzac, who was obsessed with money – the Goncourt brothers were art dealers, Dumas père had opened his own theater, Daudet was a publishing planner...
With Zola leading the way, everyone began discussing how to sell books better.
Finally, Flaubert brought the topic back:
"Ha, my dear friends, let's not forget that Lionel is the source of all this.
What he brought this time isn't a down-and-out old man or a neurotic woman, but a freak born wrapped in the skin of an eighty-year-old!
Now all of Paris is talking about him.
Tell me, what do you think of this marvelous creature? Guy, you first."
Maupassant hastily put down his coffee cup:
"Master, Lionel's concept... is truly astounding.
He had discussed some ideas with us before, but seeing it in writing, especially the double-timeline, flashback structure at the beginning.
The deathbed reading amidst the storm of the Paris Commune, intertwined with the horrifying birth amidst the smoke and fire of the Revolution—this impact far exceeds my imagination.
He successfully created immense suspense at the outset—how does this life, born old, swim against the current of the river of time?"
Zola's interest also shifted to the novel:
"Suspense?
No, Guy, it's not just suspense!
Lionel chose an extremely grotesque premise—born as an old man, growing backward.
This seems utterly absurd, violating natural laws, like those deformed fetuses in a medical school dissection room!
Yet it is rooted in one of the most chaotic and 'unnatural' historical junctures in France—July 14, 1789!
The fall of the Bastille, the collapse of the old order, a new world struggling to be born amidst blood and fire—isn't a 'born old' infant the sharpest, most grotesque metaphor for that mad era?
A monster born of the old regime on the eve of its death, this is a 'grotesque naturalism' based on pathology!"
Lionel: "..."
Émile Zola had never given up on pulling him into the 'Naturalism' camp; almost every one of his novels, Zola could attribute to heredity or pathology.
Fortunately, Edmond de Goncourt couldn't bear it any longer either.
Stroking his carefully trimmed beard, he slowly said,
"Émile, you can't always pigeonhole everything into 'Naturalism,' can you?
I, on the other hand, feel that Lionel's work has always had a taste of the 'documentary novel' that my brother and I attempted in Germinie Lacerteux.
Look at his description of the Paris street scene on the eve of the Revolution—'heat waves like boiling grease,' 'the air permeated with the smell of fear, sulfur, and rotting garbage,' 'streets becoming surging torrents'…
How detailed, how accurate!
This is certainly not pure imagination; he must have thoroughly absorbed Michelet's History of the French Revolution or the memoirs of those who lived through it.
This isn't 'grotesque naturalism'; it's 'absurd documentary style'!"
Lionel: "..."
Flaubert, however, keenly sensed a certain tension between the two—Zola's desire to draw Lionel into the 'Naturalism' camp was premeditated; Goncourt's attempt to categorize his novel as 'documentary style' certainly wasn't impromptu.
Lionel's three previous works, due to their length, lacked lasting influence and were not enough for these literary veterans to eagerly recruit him.
With the serialization of his first full-length novel beginning, and its widespread popularity among the vastly different classes of aristocrats and common citizens, the question of "which 'ism' Lionel belongs to" was placed on the agenda of the Parisian literary salons.
Flaubert recalled the past, when after he published Madame Bovary in 1856, critics were impatient to categorize him as a 'Naturalist'.
Later, Zola simply called him the 'Father of Naturalism'.
But when he wrote Madame Bovary, he was thinking more of Balzac's La Comédie humaine than of "heredity" and "pathology."
Clearly defining a faction has its pros and cons—The good side, naturally, is that one will receive advocacy and support from the same faction; whether publishing works or giving lectures across various regions, it will be a smooth path.
Therefore, he did not object to his student Maupassant also following Zola and together raising the banner of 'Naturalism'.
The downside is that creative freedom would be restricted and constrained; if one doesn't strongly identify with a certain theory, it would gradually become a torment.
Therefore, he was always dissatisfied with Maupassant's creative state, believing he had wasted too much time on 'Naturalism' without achieving anything substantial.
Lionel's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button simultaneously won the favor of aristocratic readers and common readers, as well as the 'aristocratic writers' and 'commoner writers'.
Edmond de Goncourt represented the former, Émile Zola the latter.
Flaubert was very curious how Lionel would choose his own faction—rather than being vague about it as in previous gatherings.
He specifically poured Lionel a glass of wine and handed it to him:
"Léon, tell us!"
(End of Chapter)
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