Chapter 102
There are various literary and genre trends in the Empire, but topping the charts in the newspaper serialization market right now is the “horror novel.”
Since “The Monkey’s Hand,” a bunch of short stories that feel like “ghost stories” have been continuously published.
“Haa, another horror novel? It’s spooky and all, but honestly… I’ve read so many by now that they’re just not that scary anymore.”
“Tell me about it!”
Naturally, reader fatigue with these “ghost stories” was piling up.
The short horror stories featured in the newspapers provide a sudden rush of excitement, but once you’re used to them, they just feel numb.
And then, out of nowhere…
“Wait, Herodotus—no, Homer is serialized in the newspaper?!”
“What genre? What’s the novel about?”
A new buzz was spreading across the Empire.
“Well, it said it’s a horror novel.”
“Another horror story?”
“Mmm…”
“But apparently, it’s a bit different from the other horror stories that have come out.”
“Is that so?”
“What did they say… Cosmic horror?”
…
[In my opinion, the most benevolent thing in the world is that the human mind is insufficiently developed to unveil the interconnections among all things contained within it.]
…
Truth be told, literary critiques of works labeled as the “Cthulhu Mythos” have been pretty ambiguous.
Some writers have dogged Lovecraft’s prose, saying it sounds like “lines written by a hermit who’s never talked to another person,” while others get flack for using clichéd or misinformed content. Viewed through a literary lens, the “Cthulhu Mythos” is almost akin to a “badly written novel” lacking in both commercial appeal and artistry.
However, despite all that, Lovecraft’s mythos continues to inspire a boatload of readers and creators and has been consistently homaged.
Some argue that Lovecraft’s lack of copyright awareness allowed his mythos to become a kind of public domain, which has expanded and grown through other writers.
Still, it’s tricky to attribute the cult-like popularity of the Cthulhu Mythos to just external factors.
Lovecraft’s real skill lay in his ability to create a mood.
“Ugh… wait, this is genuinely… intriguing and… bizarre… and not great for the heart…”
“It’s not just a ghost story; it’s like he’s recounting things that actually happened… but not in this world. Maybe there are entities like that in this world… maybe things like that have happened here too…”
Lovecraft’s talent was… simply put, his knack for captivating interest.
He comprehended, on a profound level, the “fear of the unknown” that common folks experience. The overwhelming awe evoked by the vastness of nature, the soul-tugging reverence for great art, the physical laws and destinies that shape our world, the massive celestial bodies moving according to those laws, and the tiny humans existing within them. That feeling of “we can’t really understand this.”
Lovecraft was acutely aware of what “humans cannot grasp through knowledge alone.”
And this insight strikes a chord with writers and readers who may not be specialists but are fiercely curious.
To simplify it…
“I want to write a story like that!”
“Horror, madness, space, the unknown, melody… every element is fascinating, how could I possibly sleep?!”
It was ample to ignite my subcultural interest.
Going beyond mere enjoyment, literary quality, coherence, or significance.
It had an allure that sparked the desire to “dig deeper” into the works. This was Lovecraft’s most formidable power. The very force that, in the 21st century, could cultivate what were called “sands“… otaku who immerse themselves in settings!
And.
There were those who recoiled against this “subcultural” charm too.
“Homer’s latest work? What a disaster!”
“Terrible dialogue, repetitive patterns, what’s even appealing about this?!”
“Homer has totally lost his touch!”
“What?”
“That’s… kinda harsh…”
Right, a bunch of “literary critics” armed with rigid and entirely subjective standards for evaluating works.
Unsurprisingly, Homer’s fans couldn’t vibe with the literary critics’ evaluations, sparking some pretty heated exchanges.
“Literary Critics, my foot! You guys can’t even write better than Homer; what gives you the right to critique?”
“You don’t have to be a good writer to evaluate writing—”
“So you think you write better than Homer? What’s your big hit?”
“Who cares! Just a bunch of clueless readers about criticism and writing!”
And like that, the Empire began to burn.
…
“Master.”
“Uh, how’s the response?”
“They say newspaper sales are skyrocketing thanks to the clash between readers defending your new work and the literary critics tearing it down.”
“Newspapers?”
“Yeah! Multiple papers are frantically publishing debates and columns about it. More people are buying newspapers to catch the drama than to actually read your ‘novel’.”
“Well, there’s nothing quite as amusing as a good fight.”
Just because someone loves fiction doesn’t mean they read “everything” fiction. Some novels just don’t sit right, some feel too much like what they’ve already read, and others just clash with their moral sensibilities. Plenty of casual readers only pick up a few well-known stories.
However, a “debate” about a novel is easy to digest.
In this light, the current wave of controversy in literary criticism could be dubbed its golden age. Normally, I wouldn’t even consider reading that stuff except for a handful of people.
The literary critics are probably feeling pretty desperate.
“Should we mobilize people from the Foundation to play peacemaker?”
“Nah?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s cool that people are into literature. Literary criticism is just one of its components.”
“Huh, is that really the case?”
Zion looked puzzled.
But honestly, this kind of back-and-forth was exactly what I hoped for from the get-go.
“I heard Isolette is stepping into literary criticism.”
“Your lordship’s niece?”
“Yep. She’s an old friend… and when a friend wants to give something a shot, you’re gonna wanna cheer them on, right?”
“……”
“So that’s the deal.”
I grinned, picturing Isolette’s anxious face.
“Let’s have her make a strong entrance. I’ve set the stage just right.”
“…You’re a bit mischievous, Master.”
“Hmm? Am I?”
“Yeah. With all that attention, can you blame her for feeling the heat? Poor Miss Isolette.”
“…Haha.”
“Master?”
Overwhelmed by attention… indeed.
As someone who remembers the literary scene from my past life, it’s downright comical. Considering how art was treated when it was overlooked by the public, the attention this world’s literature is getting feels incredibly refreshing.
“Zion.”
“Yeah?”
“This world’s literature has undoubtedly gained immense influence.”
“That’s all thanks to you, Master.”
Is that really all my doing?
I’m just a plagiarist who lifted literature from my past. Everything here is rooted in the classics that supported the literary landscape of my previous life.
So, the growth of literature is just a natural progression over time. A destiny shaped by humanity’s thirst for content. All I’ve done is speed up that fate. Purely for the selfish reason that I want to read interesting literature because I’m alive now.
Even without me, this world’s literature would eventually have blossomed.
And even with all the classics I’ve plagiarized, literature from my past is slowly fading. The literature here wouldn’t take a drastically different route. My numerous safety nets were only temporary measures, barely stalling the countdown to literature’s demise.
There’s just one way to fundamentally prevent its extinction.
“…Zion.”
“Yeah?”
“What if you were given the chance to live forever?”
“Forever… you mean?”
“Uh.”
As the Transcendent of Literature, I would reign in this world for all time.
Not a particularly hard feat.
I’ve got the money, the power, the connections, and the elixir of immortality concocted by the Transcendent of Alchemy. At this point, I’ve already eclipsed the Empire’s influence solo.
If I wanted to, I could quarantine all content except literature for eternity.
With that sentiment, I posed a question to Zion.
His answer was straightforward.
“Hmm… I think I’ll need to mull it over a bit.”
“Think it over?”
“Yeah. Gotta discuss with Master, prepare for old age, and I should probably live a bit more to contemplate ‘eternity’, right?”
“…Phew, fair enough.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a real help.”
Clearly, pondering that now is pointless.
Right now, all I can do is focus on what I can handle.
“Zion, I’ve got an announcement to make through the Foundation.”
“Sure, what’s the announcement about?”
“Lovecraft… copyright and rights-sharing regarding the Cthulhu Mythos.”
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