"It... it's actually them!?"
George Charpentier's voice was filled with disbelief.
The scion of a wealthy family, this publishing magnate suddenly leaned back in his chair, as if trying to recoil from the conclusion.
"Is... is this possible? 'Calmann-Lévy'? Or... 'Hetzel'? Or... even 'Hachette'? Using such underhanded tactics just to hit me? This..."
He paused, seemingly digesting the information.
However, George Charpentier quickly sorted out the situation—
"But thinking about it carefully, it's not entirely impossible. 'Hetzel' has always been ambitious, wanting to snatch Émile and you away from me."
"As for 'Calmann-Lévy', ever since old Michel Lévy passed away, they've been wanting to revive their literary publishing glory, and they've long been unhappy with us."
"And 'Hachette', they were the big players in distributing various textbooks, so if they see us potentially encroaching on their territory, they'll certainly view it as a threat."
...
He shook his head, not saying more, but the gloom on his face said it all.
Lionel calmly added,
"This is just a deduction based on the logic of self-interest, George, we have no evidence.
Maybe it's just a coincidence, or there are other forces we haven't considered."
Charpentier scoffed,
"Coincidence? I don't believe it! The publishing industry, on the surface, is an elegant word game, but underneath it's full of dirty tricks!
Anonymous attacks, poaching authors, hoarding paper, suppressing printing factories... it's just that this time they played an exceptionally insidious game!
They actually went to such great lengths, directly targeting you! Damn it!"
He slammed his fist heavily on the table, making the inkwell jump.
He took a few deep breaths, and his gaze towards Lionel held a touch more gratitude:
"Anyway, Lion, thank you for telling me this.
This matter can't just be let go; I will thoroughly investigate this information.
If it really is one of those houses... Hmph, I, George Charpentier, won't let myself be pushed around!"
Lionel nodded.
He knew that once Charpentier began a serious investigation, with his family's deep roots in the Parisian publishing world, they would surely find some clues.
The topic seemed to have concluded, and a brief silence fell in the office.
Charpentier picked up his glass again and took a large gulp, as if to quench the anger in his heart.
Then, he forced out a smile:
"Alright, let's not talk about these bothersome things anymore. You didn't just come today to tell me this bad news, did you?
Do you have any new ideas? The follow-up story for The Adventures of Benjamin Boudon? Readers are eagerly awaiting it!"
Lionel smiled slightly:
"It's precisely about that. George, I'm here to officially inform you—
The serialization of The Adventures of Benjamin Boudon is expected to conclude no later than this June."
"What?! Conclude?!"
Charpentier sprang up from his chair as if pricked by a needle:
"June? My God! Lion! My Lion!
Are you kidding me? Absolutely not!"
He frantically waved his arms:
"You can't end it now! Absolutely not!
Do you know how much Modern Life's circulation is stable at now, thanks to the serialization of Benjamin?
Do you know how many people buy four or five copies of each issue just to collect all four color illustrations?
Many readers even write letters saying they buy the magazine solely to follow Benjamin and collect Renoir's paintings!
Ending it now would be like ripping the roof off the house that is Modern Life!"
Lionel wasn't surprised by his reaction, and his tone remained calm:
"George, a story has its own life and rhythm.
By June, Benjamin Boudon's story will have reached its natural conclusion; it's time to end it.
Forcing it to continue would only make the plot drag on, make the characters lose their luster, and ultimately bore the readers.
That would truly harm the magazine's reputation, and it would also overdraft my own reputation—I'm still young, and I don't want to botch it!
When it's time to end, it must be ended cleanly and decisively."
Charpentier was sweating anxiously:
"Dragging on? Boring? How could it be! Readers absolutely love it!
Benjamin can experience the July Monarchy, the Revolution of 1848, the Second Empire... so many historical events!
He can fall in love, get married, have children, encounter more adventures! We could even make him 'age' a bit slower?
Yes! Make him 'age' slower, and wouldn't the story be prolonged? Length is no problem at all! Readers will only complain there isn't enough to read!"
Lionel looked at Charpentier, who was almost losing his composure, and a hint of doubt arose in his heart.
Charpentier was one of Paris's leading literary publishers, working with authors of the caliber of Zola, Flaubert, and the Goncourt brothers.
Logically, he shouldn't have such a violent, almost panicked reaction to the conclusion of a work.
Lionel interrupted his plea:
"George, calm down. This isn't like you, the respectable 'Charpentier's Bookshelf'!"
Hearing the words "the respectable 'Charpentier's Bookshelf'", George Charpentier seemed to be struck in a sore spot, and his spirits instantly plummeted.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but it ultimately turned into a long sigh, and then he slumped back into his chair, as if he had aged several years in an instant.
After a good while, Charpentier seemed to make up his mind to speak:
"You're right. The respectable 'Charpentier's Bookshelf' shouldn't be like this...
But in fact, our current financial situation... is indeed not optimistic. There are many reasons—
Paper prices are rising, printing costs are increasing, competition is getting fiercer—but these aren't the main issues.
The main problem is... the manuscript fees paid to you all."
Lionel chuckled:
"George, I hope you're not going to plead poverty like some third-rate businessman... that's not like you."
George Charpentier quickly waved his hands:
"I'm telling the truth!"
Then he began counting on his fingers:
"Émile, Gustave, and you... your reputations are growing, and naturally, your manuscript fees are rising too.
And, as you know, the fees for single volumes are always paid in a lump sum."
Lionel nodded; of course, he knew this rule.
It was common practice in the French and even European publishing industry at the time.
After a publisher took an interest in a manuscript, they would agree on a total price with the author, based on the author's reputation, the manuscript's quality, and anticipated sales, and then buy out the copyright in a lump sum.
After that, whether the book was a bestseller or a slow-seller, whether it was reprinted once or ten times, the author would have no further financial relation to it.
Seeing Lionel understood, George Charpentier continued to lament:
"For us publishers, the risks and pressure are enormous!
Take Émile's Nana, for example; the manuscript fee we're paying him will be an... an 'astronomical figure'!"
George Charpentier didn't disclose the exact amount, but the pained expression on his face said it all.
He spread his hands:
"Paying such a large sum in one go means a massive outflow of our cash before the books even hit the market.
And the sales returns for books take time, a long time! We have to bear printing costs, inventory pressure, distribution fees...
If a book sells well, that's fine; eventually, we can recoup our costs and even profit. But what if a book is a slow-seller? Or if sales are worse than expected?
Then this huge upfront investment could be completely lost! Mountains of unsold books piling up in the warehouse, each one a franc burned!
Over the past few decades, how many famous publishers have fallen into decline, or even gone bankrupt, because of one or two 'big books' they bet on incorrectly!"
He was about to say more, but Lionel interrupted him:
"But for us authors, it's equally unfair!
Yes, we receive a considerable sum in one go.
But if the book unexpectedly becomes a bestseller, reprinted again and again, it's you, the publisher, who makes a fortune!
We, however, can only watch, without getting an extra sou! Is that reasonable?
You paid an 'astronomical figure' for Nana—but what about L'Assommoir and Germinal? How much did you earn from those?"
George Charpentier wasn't angry; instead, he helplessly explained,
"But whether a book will be a bestseller, that's impossible to predict!..."
Lionel understood that this was the pain point of 19th-century publishing.
Lump-sum buyouts could not guarantee authors' long-term income, while also placing enormous financial pressure on publishers, making them hesitant to try new authors and new works.
After Charpentier finished his outpouring, Lionel slowly spoke:
"George, everything you've said is right—so why don't we try a different approach?"
George Charpentier put down his glass, looking at him with a somewhat blank expression.
Lionel showed a harmless smile:
"Just like how the Comédie-Française settles box office dividends with me every time they perform The Chorus.
When The Adventures of Benjamin Boudon is published as a single volume, how about we try using a 'royalty system' to settle the manuscript fees?"
George Charpentier repeated Lionel's words with a puzzled expression:
"Using a 'royalty system' to settle manuscript fees?"
Lionel stood up and, on a small blackboard in George Charpentier's office that served as a memo board, wrote a few words in chalk:
"Royalty," "Variable Royalty," "First Print Run," "License Term"...
(End of Chapter)