I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 91 Nobel, the Dynamite Boy

The history of literary prizes is not actually that long. The world's first literary prize was the Grand Prix des Libre de France, which was established in 1912, awarded by the French Academy, and sponsored by the Le Métiers-La Rivière Foundation.

However, with the changing times, literary awards have sprung up everywhere, partly to discover outstanding but unknown writers and give them the recognition and material support they deserve.

It's important to understand that not all excellent writers are known and accepted by the public from the very beginning, and many people naturally cannot judge a book by book from the vast sea of ​​published works. Therefore, from this perspective, literary awards can be seen as a way to select and recommend outstanding works.

This approach not only ensures that outstanding works receive the attention and recognition they deserve, but also protects the diversity of literature to a certain extent, preventing obscure works from less common languages ​​and countries from being ignored and overlooked.

The Nobel Prize in Literature is a good example in this regard. Although it is surrounded by controversy and more and more people think it is a piece of trash that is only enjoyed by a small group of people, it still has one good quality, which is its global reach.

Among the past laureates, there are always some writers from obscure countries and their works that have come into the public eye. If the Nobel Prize in Literature had not been awarded to them, these people and their works would probably never have been seen by more people.

In short, this is simply another way of selecting the best works, and it's probably not entirely right to place too much importance on it or to disregard it too much.

Moreover, the Nobel Prize in Literature has missed out on far too many great writers. For example, the first winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1901 was the French writer Sully Prudhomme, and who was the opponent he defeated?
That was Leo Tolstoy, who possessed a series of characteristics such as "appearance anxiety sufferer," "top-tier rich second generation," "spoiled brat," "enthusiast of eating, drinking, gambling, and whoring," and later "midlife crisis," "Russian mirror," and so on.

The matchmaking system is undeniably ridiculous, but somehow the French writer actually won.
Missing out on writers of Tolstoy's caliber proves nothing other than that the Nobel Prize committee of that era was somewhat incompetent.

On the other hand, literary awards have naturally led to significant resource monopolies and corruption within small circles. This is a global phenomenon; the problems with the Nobel Prize are glaringly obvious. Meanwhile, the Lu Xun and Mao Dun Literary Awards have been highly controversial, and France's Goncourt Prize has faced severe criticism from French critics, who argue it has become a means for publishers to profit.
Returning to the present, in this day and age, literary prizes are undoubtedly a very novel thing, so when Mikhail said it, most of the people present looked at him with some surprise.

Fortunately, although the information was new, it wasn't difficult to understand, so Belinsky, while surprised, also asked with some curiosity:

“That sounds feasible, but why do you have such an idea, Mikhail?”

"On one hand, it's an encouragement; I hope to see more excellent works in our magazine."

At this point, Mikhail paused for a moment and gave the young Dostoevsky a deep look.

That one glance was enough to make the young Dostoevsky's heart pound wildly, and Mikhail's next words made his heart race even faster:
"The awards are given out at the end of each year. As for the prize money, it is tentatively set at 500 rubles. If the magazine does well in the future, this number may be increased."

Five hundred rubles!

Upon hearing this number, Old Tuo froze on the spot.

Although he has indeed become famous recently, with a constant stream of people inviting him and wanting to meet him, his life is still often in dire straits due to his lack of writing and spending habits. He sometimes has to rely on barley tea and bread to get by.

If I could win that prize money, I, Dostoevsky, might as well do what Mikhail did, and gamble it all away, then live a life of universal admiration.
The classic fantasy segment has begun again.
As Dostoevsky began to daydream, someone nearby joked, "Mikhail, are you trying to win yourself a prize? Who else but you can get this award if you write a new piece for a magazine?"

"Of course, other writers can get it."

Mikhail first waved his hand with a smile, then continued, "However, I do not participate in the award selection. If you have good works, please submit them to us as soon as possible."

"It sounds like a good idea. It would be great if this money could help talented writers who are struggling to make a living."

After thinking for a moment, Belinsky couldn't help but nod in approval, saying, "This is a very noble suggestion! I completely agree with it. Moreover, I think it will be a remarkable innovation that will help propel the stagnant literary world forward!"

While Belinsky considered the award primarily for its potential benefit to writers, Nekrasov, after careful reflection, felt he truly understood Mikhail's thinking. On one hand, it would undoubtedly attract more excellent works and expand the magazine's influence. On the other hand, what if every Russian writer considered receiving this award an honor? What would become of our magazine then?
As for Mikhail, he will be remembered by every Russian writer!

If this award were not limited to Russia
Just as Nekrasov was thinking this, he heard Mikhail continue with a laugh, "Currently, the award is only selected within our magazine, but after a while, we might consider selecting winners throughout Russia. If things go well, expanding to a wider scope is not out of the question, and it might not even be limited to the literary field."

Upon hearing Mikhail's words, many people present thought it was just a somewhat feasible fantasy, but in reality, how could a small award be expanded to such a large scope?

Moreover, literary prizes are understandable, but it's a bit strange if it's not just in the literary field. What is Mikhail's purpose in doing this?
The others stopped thinking about it after that, but Nekrasov couldn't help but linger on this part for a long time. He had initially just found it somewhat interesting, but for some reason, the more he thought about it, the more shaken he became. In the end, only Mikhail's words echoed in his mind:
"For our common cause!"

So what kind of career is it?

Nekrasov remained silent for a long time, then couldn't help but give Mikhail a deep look.
Mikhail, sensing Nekrasov's gaze, thought, "?"

Why does Nekrasov seem to look at me with such complicated emotions? Is there something about this literary prize that doesn't suit his taste?
To be honest, Mikhail himself hadn't thought that far ahead. After all, whatever it is, you have to start with the present. As for further goals, that's just wishful thinking.

Of course, if he had to say, Mikhail felt there was a chance to turn those future dreams into reality, since he could make a will or something when he got old.

Incidentally, although Alfred Bernhard Nobel and his family were Swedish, they moved to St. Petersburg, Russia in 1838.

Nobel's father, Immanuel Nobel, was an inventor. In 1853, Tsar Nicholas I, the Great Tsar, exceptionally awarded him a medal for his achievements, such as inventing a boiler system for domestic heating, designing a machine for making wooden wheels, designing and manufacturing a large forging hammer, and improving factory equipment.

As for Nobel himself, in addition to his passion for invention, he also had a long-standing love for literature. He wrote some poems and plays in his youth and began writing novels in his later years. However, many of his works were accused of "defamation, blasphemy" and other crimes, and were destroyed after his death.

Although his leisure time was extremely limited after adulthood due to his busy schedule with technological inventions and business development, his love for literature remained as constant as his love for science. It can be said that literature and science were Nobel's two major pillars of spirit.

So here's the question: if Nobel, that dynamite kid, were in St. Petersburg right now, he could indeed see the works Mikhail had sent out, and Mikhail should...
The more I think about it, the more something seems off.
Just as Mikhail was reminiscing and getting a little nervous, Belinsky asked what seemed like a very important question: "So, Mikhail, what name do you plan to give this literary prize? The Mikhail Literary Prize? Or the Raskolnikov Literary Prize? Both sound pretty good."

“I don’t intend to mention anyone’s name, because this is an honor that belongs to all of us. Anyone could receive this honor, and at the same time, anyone’s life may be closely related to this honor.”

Awakening from his reverie, and seeing everyone in the room looking at him, Mikhail unconsciously used a slight gesture before solemnly announcing the name of the award:

“How about calling it ‘Nash’? It might sound a bit strange at first, but I believe people will get used to it sooner or later. And when it no longer belongs to all of us, it will be time for it to be abolished.”

Upon hearing the name Mikhail had chosen, although some present did feel it lacked elegance and sophistication, the fact that it was Mikhail who proposed it led to a joking exchange of glances and a burst of applause.

“So let’s celebrate the birth of the Nash Prize for Literature today, Mikhail. Perhaps you should treat us all to a drink.”

"Definitely next time."

Amidst the applause, Mikhail smiled and waved, then couldn't help but turn his gaze to the card table and say:
"Let's play cards for a bit first."

Belinsky, who was just clapping enthusiastically, was speechless.

(End of this chapter)