The Shadow of Great Britain

”What did they say?”

Speaking of the criticisms from Fleet Street over the years, Dickens almost had them memorized: ”In recent years, a group of writers have appeared in the London publishing market, calling themselves ’friends of the people.’ The misery and misfortune they write about are merely to please middle-class readers who relish peeking into the lives of the poor. The suffering of the impoverished is portrayed by them as an exotic landscape, rather than a social issue worth addressing. This is said about me.”

However, compared to the criticisms of Eld, what Fleet Street said about Dickens was mild.

According to Blackwood’s: ”Eld Carter always strives to imitate Scotland’s Walter Scott, yet he fails to inherit Scott’s national spirit, learning only Scott’s ostentatious embellishments. His England seems forever stormy, with peasants perpetually chanting slogans and nobles eternally drawing swords. Without blood and intrigue, his novels are like hearts hollowed out.”

But even though Eld was criticized this harshly, compared to Disraeli, his woes seemed insignificant.

The Edinburgh Review, when commenting on Disraeli’s debut Vivian Grey in 1827, bluntly stated: ”This is a novel driven by ambition and narcissism, with the author seemingly trying hard to convince the world that he is smarter than anyone in his book.”

And after Disraeli became an MP, not only did the situation not improve, but it deteriorated rapidly.

The Quarterly Review, at the time of the publication of The Young Duke, released an extensive critique: ”Mr. Disraeli dresses up his fantasies like a dandy dresses himself. In short, there’s plenty of shine but little substance.”

And the rival magazine Blackwood’s comments were even more vicious, bluntly saying: ”It’s hard to determine whether Mr. Disraeli wants to be a novelist politician or a political novelist. Undoubtedly, he fails at both.”

Yet, if one were to argue who received the most creative insults, it would have to be their board chairman, Sir Arthur Hastings.

— The Hastings Case Files bring joy to the legal world and embarrassment to the literary circles.

— A work worthy as a police school textbook, but perhaps not suitable for a literature department’s collection. Its advantages are clarity, coolness, legality; its drawbacks, the same.

— If Dickens made the image of London’s poor come alive on paper, then Arthur Sigma sent all living Londoners to their graves.

— Congratulations! The literary branch of Scotland Yard is thriving.

But no matter how Fleet Street criticized them, at least Arthur could ask himself honestly, he hadn’t written too many melodramatic plots.

Although The British, in a sense, could be considered a pioneer in the fashion novel field, seven years after its inception, due to the tireless efforts of their peers, they had already been beaten by the waves onto the beach, losing the honorary continuous attacks from Fleet Street.

Of course, the budget novel-focused Spark is still the primary target of Fleet Street’s attacks.

But there’s no choice, Spark makes money from this.

Because of this, to boost sales, you have to write some stories here and there.

And currently, the most popular novel in Spark roughly tells the story of a humble heroine who uses her wit to thwart the devious schemes of the Duchess of Bloomington, a cunning, demonic noblewoman, and eventually, she marries the mysterious young man working in the shawl department at the West District Department Store (both the Duchess and readers know that he is in fact the true heir to England’s wealthiest earl domain).

Alas...

Actually, Spark isn’t keen on selecting such articles to publish.

But there’s no choice, they can’t resist what readers love to read.

Soon after chatting, the boss personally brought out the freshly prepared beef ribs.

Steam rose from the edge of the plate, filling the air with the aroma of beef, malt, and caramelized onions.

”Gentlemen, careful, it’s hot,” the boss chuckled as he reminded them, as the waiter brought in some goblets.

Eld picked up his fork, lifting a piece of lean and fat beef rib, nodding with satisfaction: ”Look, Albert, this is the best beef rib in London.”

Albert, watching everyone chatting happily and eating beef ribs, couldn’t help but envy, saying: ”I really hope that one day I can join the publishing industry.”

”You’re being modest,” Disraeli laughed and said: ”You could certainly pursue something of a higher standard.”

Arthur raised his glass, pretending to casually smooth things over: ”I remember you haven’t graduated from Bonn University yet, there’s no need to rush into work, you’ll have opportunities later.”

”That’s right,” Eld, adopting an experienced stance, pointed the young man in the right direction: ”But let me remind you, young man, publishing is no romantic business. When you’re writing, you feel like God, but when you’re publishing, you’re a beggar. The printers are on your back for their wages, and the publishers for sales. But at the end of the month, you’ll discover your only loyal reader is your creditor.”

Disraeli couldn’t help but laugh: ”I know that all too well.”

Eld cut a piece of rib, dipping it in the gravy, while continuing to speak: ”Albert, if you truly wish to thrive in the publishing world, I’d advise you not to start off thinking of becoming a writer. There are too many people writing books, too many printing them. But experienced editors? Nowadays, a good editor is rarer than an honest politician in Westminster Palace.”