Let's set aside the wails from the magazine editorial department. After half a month of preparation, the new issue of *Ladies' Monthly*, featuring the new serialized novel *Helen*, was released. The accompanying cards and paper dolls, due to the limitations of color printing technology, were not released simultaneously, but the magazine did include a Helen doll and a set of clothing for early promotional purposes.
The freshly inked magazines were delivered from the bindery to various locations around Lurendon. Some went to small street vendors, others settled in the small bookstores at train stations, while others were sent to the homes of yearly subscribers. The largest bookstore in Lurendon, the Temple of the Muses bookstore, also received its share.
A typical bookstore doesn't just sell books and magazines; it could be more accurately described as a stationery shop, selling large quantities of paper, stamps, envelopes, pens, as well as books, magazines, and newspapers. Sometimes, it also functions like a library—subscribers only need to pay 21 shillings annually to borrow dozens of three-volume novels. A full novel set costs 31 shillings, about half the weekly income of a middle-class family.
But the Temple of the Muses bookstore was different. It was more like a modern bookstore, housing over 500,000 books, and its lobby was spacious enough for six horses to pass through. This single bookstore generated more than 5,000 pounds annually for its owner.
At that moment, its owner, James Henry, was in the lobby, reviewing the new stock of books and magazines.
"Sir," a clerk reported, "the latest issues of *Ladies' Monthly*, *Ladies' Magazine*, and *Ladies' Gathering* have arrived."
"Put them in the usual spot," James said without looking up, his pen scratching across the book catalog.
The clerk hesitated and quietly said, "I heard this issue of *Ladies' Monthly* features a new serialized novel. Lady Archat is both fond and frustrated with it. Since you're considering transitioning into publishing, I thought..."
Lurendon's social circle was small, and Lady Archat was a well-known female magazine editor. James had heard of her; she and her husband, Mr. Archat, founded the *Ladies' Home* magazine, achieving impressive sales. After her husband's unexpected death, she struggled to keep the magazine afloat until *Ladies' Monthly* poached her.
James looked up, paused for a moment, and said, "Then bring me a copy."
He had been thinking about transitioning into publishing for some time. Since the opening of the Temple of the Muses bookstore, he had received much gossip and criticism from his peers. He needed to maintain his reputation in Lurendon, where reputation was still a valuable asset.
James had been planning to publish his autobiography, but he quickly realized that publishing and selling were two entirely different fields. Before entering an unfamiliar territory, it was best to find a partner.
He had already identified two anonymous writers and their works. One was a realist novel about the slums of the western part of Lurendon, serialized in *Cornell Magazine*. It might not sell well, but James believed it could cause quite a stir, though it could also lead to a total loss. Either way, it was worth taking a gamble.
The other was a well-known horror story serialized in the "Penny Novels," telling the legendary tale of the infamous thief Dick.
The *Penny Novels* wasn't the name of a magazine or newspaper, but rather a type of cheap novel targeted at the working class. It was a small booklet with only 8 to 16 pages, printed on inexpensive wood-pulp paper, with a half-page black-and-white illustration on the front. The layout was sloppy, and each issue only cost one penny, creating a vast readership. Hundreds of publishers competed to release them.
The story of Dick the Thief had been serialized for over a year in the *Penny Novels*, and it was still ongoing. The readers loved it, and James thought that if he could republish it, many people would buy it to add to their collections.
These two candidates were aimed at male readers, but James also wanted to find works by female authors. However, as a man, he had difficulty understanding how women's literature became popular. Stories about girls seemed to belong to a different world.
"Well," James finished his work and then opened *Ladies' Monthly*, thinking, "Let me see if I can understand Lady Archat's view." He searched for the new serialized novel. "This must be it—*Helen*."
As a "gentleman," James usually didn't comment on the articles he read. Even when he saw Helen feverishly asking for medical help, he simply furrowed his brow and thought, "There must be a reason they're doing this," then patiently continued reading.
When he saw how Helen had given all the money she earned to her parents, only for them to refuse to spend it on her treatment, it struck a chord deep within him.
Yes, James hadn't always been wealthy. He wasn't born into nobility, and the money he earned had come through years of hard work. The more money he made, the more he understood how hard it was to make money. When he was younger, anyone who dared steal from him would have found themselves in serious trouble.
The feeling of helplessness and anger when one's hard-earned money is stolen for medical bills hit James hard. He felt this way for quite a while.
James also noticed that the plot of the novel moved at an unusually fast pace. Typically, novels were published in three volumes. The first volume would draw readers in, the second would develop the plot, and the third would provide a satisfying ending. To fill the three volumes, the plot would often be slowed down, but in *Helen*, the story began with her illness, and within the first two thousand words, there was already conflict with her parents. The pace was fast, almost like a steam train.
Not only did three-volume novels not move this quickly, but even in the competitive *Penny Novels*, the first two thousand words wouldn't dive into such heavy content immediately.
When the governess appeared and slapped Helen's parents across the face, explaining Helen's true identity, it was done so quickly, leading to Helen's recovery and her plan to meet her real parents—all within six thousand words.
Typically, a three-volume novel would be about 150,000 to 200,000 words, and James couldn't imagine how the plot would continue. If it were any other writer, the revelation about Helen's true parents might have been saved for the final volume, but this was already revealed, so what would happen next?
As he continued reading with confusion, James found that when Helen nervously returned to her biological parents' mansion—describing its grandeur and the disdain of the servants—she discovered that her parents weren't home. They had taken the fake daughter on a vacation due to the fake daughter's sadness over the news.
Familiar anger filled James's heart. It only calmed slightly when he saw that Helen's brother remained at the mansion, waiting for her return.
\["So you're my sister?" Helen's brother looked down at her from the top of the stairs, his words dripping with disdain. "I warn you, don't even think about getting anything you can't have. I don't want some country bumpkin as my sister."]
James slammed the magazine shut with a *thwack*, struggling to suppress the urge to punch the guy. He took several deep breaths, muttering to himself, "Can there really be such stupid and vicious people in the world?"
He thought about the fools he'd encountered in his life and sighed, "Of course, there are."
He no longer needed to worry about what would happen next because, with such biased parents and a foolish brother, Helen's life after returning home would surely not be easy.
James took a moment to calm down before reopening the magazine to continue reading, only to find that the next pages were missing. The issue only contained ten thousand words.
"Only ten thousand words?" James flipped through the pages, confirming the length. "I thought I had read a whole volume."
He paused, took out his red leather notebook from his pocket, and wrote down his thoughts with a short automatic pencil. "Just ten thousand words managed to stir my emotions and invoke anger from somewhere deep within. This is truly impressive literature. Some parts of the plot and the writing made me feel suffocated, while others made me feel like I could finally vent. I was completely immersed in the story. I felt such genuine sympathy for Helen, as well as a strange hatred for her adoptive parents and her real parents. I was never someone easily moved before."
"*Helen*'s story may not happen in reality, but it feels as though, somewhere in Lurendon, there is a real girl named Helen who is being abused by her adoptive parents. When she hopes to return to her real parents, she suffers another kind of abuse: coldness, neglect, and contempt. If this really happened, I swear I would take her adoptive parents to court, make them face trial, and be condemned by everyone! As for that detestable brother, the army would be the best place for him."
James sighed as he wrote. How he wished this story were true. At least then, he could do something to save Helen.
Just as he was about to put the magazine away, he noticed the illustration on the back page, and curious, he read the words below: "Please cut out Helen and dress her in her new clothes. Wait, is this a... doll?"
"Would Nancy like it?" he wondered, taking out six pennies and placing them on the counter. He then took the magazine, planning to bring it home to show his wife that evening.
While James was still
busy at the bookstore, his wife Nancy was preparing for her "at-home day."
Due to the severe pollution of the river near Lurendon, the whole city was enveloped in a foul stench during the summer. As a result, wealthy families made every effort to escape the city until after Christmas, when the nobility had to return for the parliament, staying until the following early summer.
This period became an unofficial social season. During this time, the aristocracy and middle class would spend their days visiting friends, attending balls, watching plays, listening to concerts, and so on.
The middle class had a complete set of social etiquette, and Nancy was one of its practitioners. Once the social season began, she had to visit neighbors, friends, and family daily, fulfilling her social duties. At least one or two days each month, she had to be at home to welcome guests. This was her "at-home day."
She would have to wear a reception dress and prepare tea and snacks. She could expect a dozen or more female guests, sometimes even more. If Nancy didn't entertain all her guests properly, it would be considered a failure, and next time, fewer guests would come. This would also damage her and her husband's reputation.
When the first guest arrived, it marked the beginning of a busy afternoon. The bell at the door rang incessantly, and scarves, hats, coats, and overcoats were hung in the hallway. Some ladies were playing piano, others were dancing to the music, while some were drinking tea and chatting. Silver trays, bone china teacups, knives, and forks were everywhere.
"My dear, you really are busy," said Nancy's friend, Mrs. Stephen, as she beckoned her over to rest.
Nancy, exhausted, collapsed beside Mrs. Stephen and took a sip of tea. "Sorry, what were you all talking about?"
Mrs. Stephen shook the magazine in her hand. "There's a new story in here that's so infuriating. I've never read anything so frustrating, so I decided to share it with you all."
"Oh, you little troublemaker," Nancy teased. "What kind of story?"
"Take a look for yourself," Mrs. Stephen said, keeping the plot a secret. "They've all read it. It's very short, but you won't have time to read it now. You can read it tonight, during your reading time."
Every night, after James returned home, the family would gather to read aloud some interesting works. He had time to read outside, but their nightly reading time together held a special significance.
Time passed quickly, and when night fell, James reminded his employees, "Make sure to order two thousand more copies of *Ladies' Monthly* tomorrow."
"Two thousand?" The employee scratched his head. "But we only ordered three thousand last time."
"I have a feeling this issue will sell even better," James said with a smile.
When he returned home, he was surprised to find Nancy reading *Ladies' Monthly* under the light of an oil lamp.
"Where did you get this copy?" he asked, pulling out the one he had brought home, giving a sheepish smile.
"Our neighbor, Mrs. Stephen, lent it to me," Nancy said, smiling at him. "It was my at-home day today, and she and several other ladies visited. She insisted I read this story. She said she had never read anything so infuriating, but she couldn't wait to share it with us."
"Wow," James froze for a moment, scratching his head. "Looks like adding those two thousand copies might not be enough after all."