I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 94 Petrashevsky

Although the young Tolstoy was exceptionally angry for a moment, he ultimately did not know the author and could not go directly to his home to inquire about the novel.

So he could only slowly calm down from his anger, but even so, he still remembered the author's name. If he had the chance to go to St. Petersburg in the future, he would most likely try to find out more about him.

After his temperature had completely dropped, he flipped through the magazine again, checking for any details he had overlooked. Then he casually browsed through other people's work, and after finding some of their pieces somewhat interesting, he took the magazine and headed off somewhere.

As a young nobleman who would soon inherit a title and land, he was extremely popular in the social circles of both Kazan and Moscow. During his time at university, he had already attended many balls and concerts hosted by high-ranking officials and nobles.

Now, as he gradually gets used to these occasions, he has also developed a great interest in many things about them, to the point that he has been attending balls quite frequently lately.

He had already planned to attend a dance party today, and buying this magazine was just a side thing for him.

But for some reason, as he walked, he remained immersed in the emotions stirred by the serialized novel.

Undoubtedly, the author's bias was very clear; in his view, the duke appeared as a despicable figure, while the more ordinary people were portrayed as more virtuous.

Given this tendency, it's perfectly normal for those in his circle to feel disgusted and ridicule it.

He should have shared their attitude, but the vague emotions that had been stirred within him seemed to be conveying something to him, so much so that he not only didn't dislike such novels, but even found them quite interesting.

As he walked, he suddenly stopped on his way to a certain place and instead headed towards his home, intending to continue reading the works of Rousseau that he hadn't finished yet, as well as the literary magazine he was holding.

He might soon regret it and choose to return to the ball, but at least for this moment, he was heading home.

On the way back, a thought that had never crossed his mind before suddenly appeared: Could I also write a story like this?

For a family like his, becoming a writer is hardly a respectable thing. People like him usually have more respectable things to do, but this aristocratic boy, who always seemed absent-minded and careless, still had such thoughts.

And if he could write, could he write well?

While the young Tolstoy was having this thought, on the other side, in the bustling streets of St. Petersburg, Mikhail was walking with Nekrasov and Belinsky.

As expected, Mikhail was awakened from his sleep once again.
Fortunately, he had prepared himself mentally and had gone to bed early the night before, so when he came to the street with them, Mikhail looked quite energetic. But at this moment, Belinsky and Nekrasov, who had arrived at the bookstore, looked even more energetic than Mikhail.

Belinsky, in particular, watched with tenderness as young people bought the magazine "The Contemporary," like a father looking at his newborn children.

It's clear that the new magazine has made some young people a little uncomfortable, to the point that when they rush into a bookstore, their first instinct is to ask, "Has 'Chronicles of the Motherland' arrived yet?"

But after a brief moment of reaction, they quickly asked again, "Where is 'Modern Man'? We want to see 'Modern Man'!"

However, Chronicle of the Fatherland has always been one of the best-selling literary magazines in St. Petersburg, so it's not so easy to be defeated. Many people still pick it up out of habit.

However, Mikhail and his team didn't really care about that. After all, they had only just taken over "Modern Man," and a decent sales figure would be enough. As for anything more, they would have to wait and see.

Watching the magazines on the shelf disappear so quickly, Nekrasov and Belinsky couldn't help but smile with excitement. Even Mikhail was infected by their enthusiasm and couldn't help but say, "How about we go get something to eat to celebrate?"

"Why don't you go have some vodka, Mikhail?" Nekrasov said excitedly. "A day like this deserves a good drink to celebrate!"

Mikhail: “?”

Drinking this first thing in the morning?
Incidentally, although vodka sounds quite modern, as early as the 15th century, Ivan III established a state monopoly on this popular Russian spirit. In 1553, Ivan the Terrible opened the first vodka tavern in Moscow, reaping huge profits. The 19th century was a century of consolidating vodka's dominance in the international market.

It's worth mentioning that Ivan the Terrible had a peculiar hobby: he frequently held banquets and often had people write down what the drunken nobles said. The next day, he would use those words to question the sycophants who had just woken up from their hangovers.

His practice was later perfectly inherited by a Georgian who was a good poet. Those who attended his banquets often made a fool of themselves. Among them was the son of a poor farmer who later became a big fan of corn, and he even drank to the point of incontinence.

Although many Russians in that era loved this spirit, Mikhail was not much of a drinker; he could only manage a little wine at most, let alone early in the morning.

In short, at Mikhail's insistence, the three of them finally arrived at a coffee shop, partly to observe the situation further, and partly to have something to drink and eat.

The group had barely sat down when, just as Mikhail was about to put a piece of bread in his mouth, a sudden sound caused the bread to fall from his hand onto the table:

"What happened?! Good heavens! How could he only serialize such a small amount of content?"

I initially thought it was just an isolated case, but others quickly responded:
"Is it that novel in 'Modern Man'? I don't understand why it's serialized. If you've written it, why not just publish the whole thing at once? Who would read such a small amount?"

"This work is quite different from his previous short stories. If his previous short stories were concise and powerful, then this one is undoubtedly much more delicate. However, it seems pretty good so far. I'm really curious to see how it will unfold next." "I'm going to write to the magazine to see how long this novel will be serialized. I won't be happy if each issue is too short. I won't allow that to happen."

"Why bother writing a letter? Why not just go to their magazine's office and ask? I know their address; let me explain in detail."

"So that's where it is, I understand!"

"I've never been very patient to begin with, and this story is truly infuriating. Why would a duke, with such a title and such wealth, have to pick a fight with a loyal and kind steward?"

"So what is the connection between that old man who died and was forgotten and the story?"

Hearing these conversations, Mikhail, who had been chatting and laughing as usual, unconsciously moved further into his chair and lowered his head slightly. Before, few people might have known him, but since he had received many people in the office, the probability of Mikhail being recognized had greatly increased.

After all, St. Petersburg is only so big, and there are only so many places for young people who love literature and art to exchange ideas. What if they get recognized?
“Oh, right, Nikolai.” Mikhail said to Nekrasov, “I’ll work from home for the next few days. If anything comes up, just come and find me. I won’t be going to the publishing house for now.”

"So when will you submit your manuscript?"

Thinking about the part of the novel he had read, Nekrasov suddenly felt a burning desire to write it down, so he couldn't help but ask, "Mikhail, you know, because it needs to be printed ahead of time, it would be best if you gave me your manuscript now, otherwise it would delay the printing and affect the magazine's distribution."

"Yes, how can I comment without a complete manuscript?"

Belinsky, his eyes gleaming with fervor, spoke up at that moment: "In that case, I cannot tell you my complete thoughts on this novel! And if we only talk about the part you have given me now, Mikhail, even though you have heard many such comments, I still want to tell you that you are a complete genius."

What kind of person can suddenly transition from concise and powerful short stories to profound and weighty novels? And in this transition, I didn't see much immaturity; it's as if you've already reached a very high level of skill even though you've only just begun writing this length!
I simply don't know how to describe it! And your novel will surely become a dagger thrown into the darkness.

There are always many gentlemen among us who still harbor unrealistic fantasies about certain people, but in reality, it is impossible to sway the hearts of some people without the most radical actions. Your novel will make more people realize this.

Mikhail: “.”

Old Bie was drenched in sweat.
Seeing this, Mikhail gestured to the ailing Belinsky not to get so excited, and at the same time, he nodded in agreement to their request for the remaining part of the novel.

The reason it has been delayed until now is that the novel "The Insulted and Hurt" contains a considerable amount of religious ideas of redemption.

Mikhail could understand this. After all, for some people, when they have witnessed the dark reality for a long time and have not seen a way out for a long time, if they do not have hope for God, then who should they have hope for?
Moreover, this is Russia, a country with a very strong religious atmosphere.

The reason why Dostoevsky and Tolstoy's later works are great is that, although they had their own inclinations, they still depicted various social realities and ideological clashes, and shared them in depth.

However, for Mikhail, understanding is based on knowing the way forward. It would be impossible for him to believe in such things in this day and age.

While Mikhail continued his conversation with Nekrasov and Belinsky, at that very moment, not too far from him, a burly man, who looked like a giant bear, was walking down the street with his companion. Even a magazine seemed a little small in his hands.

This was naturally Dmitry, whom Mikhail hadn't seen for a while.

The main reason is that Mikhail has been quite busy lately, and Dmitry is not idle either. In addition to working hard to complete his studies, he has also been frequently attending a group meeting and eagerly learning a new idea that he has not previously studied in detail.

At such gatherings, certain passages from Mikhail's novels are often quoted to illustrate a certain reality that has always existed in Russia.

Thinking of this, Dmitri couldn't help but look at that familiar name in the magazine again, and felt genuinely proud of his friend.

Who could have imagined that a college student who was impoverished not long ago would become a rising literary star in St. Petersburg's cultural scene in such a short time?
Moreover, Dmitri always felt that it wouldn't be long before his young friend would solidify his position in the cultural world, and who could have imagined that a college student who had temporarily suspended his studies, a young man, could become an authority in the cultural world?
However, while feeling proud of his friend, Dmitri also felt a little regretful, since his friend was indeed quite busy at times, and the inability to meet at school meant that the opportunities to see each other were much fewer.

If Mikhail were still in school, they would probably continue to attend this group's gatherings together.
Mikhail did participate a few times in the past, but before he could learn more about it, he had already begun his literary career.

I don't know if he'll have time later, I'll ask him again when I have some free time.
With this in mind, Dmitry looked at his companion and asked, "Ilyaslav, has Mr. Petroshevsky been having another gathering lately?"

"of course."

Dmitri's companion replied, "Same time as always, starting Friday, and it'll probably be a few more days. What's wrong?"

"Perhaps I should bring one of my friends to participate again."

The bear-like man puffed out his chest: "And you must have heard of his name!"

(End of this chapter)