Chapter: 77
The foundations commonly known as the ‘Homer Foundation’ can be divided into two main categories.
The Holmes & Lupin Artist Welfare Foundation, which supports artists’ works and livelihoods, and the Little Prince & Alice Children’s Welfare Foundation, which serves as a social safety net for minors, providing educational support and free meals.
Among them, when people say ‘Homer Foundation,’ they usually refer to the Artist Welfare Foundation.
It probably has to do with the image of Homer as a writer. As for the Children’s Welfare Foundation, it’s often called the ‘Little Prince Foundation’ or just a ‘Welfare Foundation.’
Anyway.
The Artist Welfare Foundation tends to provide unlimited support to those categorized as ‘artists,’ especially regarding their creative endeavors. In the case of writers, the foundation covers all publishing costs, gives advance royalties for basic living, and even provides living allowances. Plus, the Homer Foundation buys books for various libraries under its umbrella and gives some minimal promotion too.
Of course, since it’s an “artist” welfare foundation, it supports not just novelists but also creators like painters and sculptors. With the tech boom, a new profession called ‘photographer’ has recently popped up as well.
But among all these, literature is the field that gets the most enthusiastic support, and if there’s going to be any grumbling, I figured it would likely come from those dabbling in other art forms.
“We need to stop the unconditional support for artists!”
So, I didn’t expect to hear such protests from fellow writers.
I certainly didn’t think they would be asking for less support and not more!
I found this whole situation pretty intriguing, so I called in the complainer directly to have a face-off with him at the publishing house.
At first, the author was awkward and tense about my call, but as soon as I asked for his opinion, he perked up and began to raise his voice.
“We need to stop the guarantee of publication and royalties for undeserving books!”
“Um, why’s that?”
“Because the current ‘Artist Welfare Foundation’ has caused a flood of low-quality books hitting the shelves!”
“Low-quality books?”
He certainly didn’t seem to be talking about pulp fiction.
“I’m talking about books that are barely more than diary entries! Just random jumble of stories with zero thought, taking up valuable library space. With so many books out there, it’s become increasingly difficult to find quality… good literature. There are so many publications that the truly great ones are getting buried.”
“Hmmmm…”
“That’s why the foundation needs to establish a baseline and start fixing things!”
Somehow, his argument felt eerily familiar—like something I’d heard a lot in my previous life.
Often, I’d hear stories about how light essays, that everyone calls “essays,” topped the bestseller lists in online bookstores like Kyobo, and how actual “proper” books never even got a glance. It’s been said that it’s downright unfair for YouTubers, celebrities, and influencers to snag bestseller status just because they were popular.
On a personal note, I didn’t really vibe with that argument either.
I’m a fan of classic literature myself, but isn’t it a bit tacky to claim there’s something wrong with the books flying off the shelves when nobody’s even reading?
Everyone interacts with print in their own way, after all.
Someone who picks up a book via a celebrity’s essay might get curious about reading and dive into more books, while online bookstore platforms do offer a variety of bestseller indicators like ‘contemporary literature’ and ‘foreign literature.’
You cannot just dismiss a book filled with transient, personal experiences as “lesser literature.” Ultimately, it’s up to the reader’s judgment.
“So then, who gets to define that standard?”
“Well, if Homer, the transcendent author of literature would do-.”
“Me?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Phew, just kidding. Well, yeah, I guess you could think that…. Not everyone can be a writer, right?”
“Everyone can be a writer, but I think not every piece of text can be a work of art.”
This guy was no mere protester either.
He’s probably a fiction writer; I might have even read one of his novels!
That’s why I decided to meet with him.
He wasn’t a politician, merchant, or nobleman; simply a writer who boldly claims to the literature transcendent, “You’re the reason the quality of literature is dropping!”—a lunatic fixated solely on literature who can differentiate between the author’s authority and the value of a work.
A person completely confident to the point of unabashedly causing a ruckus.
Captain Ahab from *Moby Dick* popped into my mind, maybe because I had recently seen a plagiarized novel. That sanctimonious captain who led everyone to ruin out of vengeance. I can’t say I actually disliked this type of person.
“Then it seems you’ve got the wrong person.”
“What?”
“Because the foundation I established is the arts ‘in’ welfare foundation. Frankly, from the foundation’s perspective, it doesn’t matter what kind of work someone has produced. That shouldn’t even be a consideration.”
“Why is that?”
The man seemed puzzled as he countered.
There was definitely a sense of pride about this eager guy wanting to preach about literature to the ‘literature transcendent,’ but…
I was a shameless plagiarist without a hint of pride.
That unashamed attitude came only from memories of a past life—where literature was treated as a noble but outdated pastime, and works seeking eternal meaning were deemed “stale” in the lilting winds of South Korea.
And in my mind, literature should belong to everyone.
It should be an accessible hobby before it becomes a solemn pursuit of eternity.
“Because literature should have no walls.”
Cervantes’ *Don Quixote* slayed the old heroic myths and heralded a new era of literature.
It tied literature to timelessness.
Yet, the timelessness of literature can only be discovered through the moments lived by people of the time. No matter how great a piece is, if nobody’s reading it, it’s just kindling.
Of course, I wasn’t about to make him grasp a reality where no one reads printed words.
I just…
laughed.
“There shouldn’t be any walls….”
“Isn’t it the people that come first?”
.
.
.
[“Don’t bother explaining blasphemy to me! If the sun insults me, I will smite it down!”]
[“How can a prisoner get out if he doesn’t break down the wall? For me, that wall is the white whale.”]
.
.
.
“The white whale is undoubtedly the greatest novel of this era!”
“And naturally, the contest will be won by the White Whale, right?”
As the announcement for the winners of the Homer Competition loomed, a throng of people gathered in front of the bulletin board in the plaza to chatter and debate.
There was almost no disagreement on the winner.
The *White Whale*. Most people expected that monumental epic would take the prize.
But it wasn’t just talk of the winning piece.
People were sharing and recommending novels they had enjoyed from the competition.
“Ha ha, it seems this contest had a ton of interesting stories! I cast my vote for the one titled ‘The Flower Embracing the Moon.’ It gave me all the feels!”
“I also voted for ‘Moby Dick,’ but personally, I adored the fairy tale ‘Who Stole the Cat?’ It had this adorable illustration that looked like a kid’s drawing; turns out the author made that story with their child.”
“Oh wow, that sounds absolutely adorable! I have to read that!”
Then there were those writers in the mix trembling with anticipation as they waited for results.
“Oh no, what if it doesn’t go well?! What if my name isn’t on that list?! What if I get zero votes and get cut from the running?!”
“Come on, it’ll be fine! I voted for your story! Your piece was great, so don’t sweat it too much. You probably snagged an honorable mention.”
“Ahhh… but still, what if I end up with nothing?”
“If that happens, I’ll buy you a drink! So don’t worry, the results are coming out soon, just chill.”
“Ugh…”
There were folks of all sorts mixed into the crowd.
Most eye-catching were the students from the Homer Academy, including the latecomer Prince—Assa and Princess Ys in attendance, making quite a scene.
“Hoo hoo, my novel must have secured the grand prize, right?”
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“You, you seem insecure, huh?”
“Tsk. I wonder how someone who stutters even gets to write anything.”
“Geez, you two look great together! I’m so envious!”
“Oh come on, that’s not true!”
“Absolutely not!”
And just like that.
The contest results were finally announced.
As expected, the winning entry was *Moby Dick*.
And next to it, the author’s name was….
It was a bit different from what everyone had expected.
[Moby Dick – Ed Frieden]
“Ed Frieden? Who’s that?!”
“Anyone heard this name before?”
It was just a bit of mischief I had on account of the transcendence revealing my pen names.
Now, I didn’t even have to hide my identity.
And with that, the square was buzzing.
A few folks who had seen Ed Frieden recognized that he was actually Herodotus—Homer’s true name.
Those who worried about what would happen if *Moby Dick* wasn’t Homer’s work found relief.
Then came the excitement.
“Homer is a god!”
“Hail Homer, the savior of literature! May you be holy and immaculate!”
It was like always.
But that brief moment of silence and unease before ‘Ed Frieden’ was revealed as Homer’s real name was everything I had hoped for.
Doubts that the works of the ‘literary transcendent’ are necessarily the finest work, the need to separate the author from the actual work—this was all vital to dilute Homer’s authority.
Having drunk the invisibility potion, I slipped away through the crowd, grinning.
“Young master. Did everything go well?”
“Uh-huh.”
“By the way, this invisibility potion is pretty nifty! How does it even make your clothes invisible?”
“Who knows?”
“So where are you headed now?”
“Well, how about the library?”
“I’ll take you there.”
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