The Sorrows of Young Werther - 1
Romanticism is the soul of literature. Poetic imagination, personal insight, suffering—these elements, still revered as symbols of art even in modern times, were crystallized into a paradigm through Romanticism. And the work that breathed that Romantic spirit into literature was none other than.
"Th-this... it's too painful...? But it's so beautiful.... And it feels like it's stealing my soul...."
The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
Dolling, the president, read the manuscript with a dazed, soul-lost expression, then flushed with ecstasy and cried out.
"This novel is definitely going to be a hit!"
"Yes. It will."
"...Author? You don't look so good...."
"If this work succeeds, it's likely to cause a lot of headaches."
"Headaches...?"
The Werther Effect. The Sorrows of Young Werther ends with the protagonist shooting himself. After its publication, there were stories of numerous young people who read the book and imitated Werther's suicide. Whether The Sorrows of Young Werther truly drove young people to suicide is uncertain. Meaningful statistics are hard to find, and someone already intent on suicide merely imitating Werther is a completely different story from being driven to it by the book.
"It could get accused of endorsing or glorifying suicide."
But its influence is undeniable. This novel would become the bible for young people gripped by suicidal impulses. The church would likely panic and try to control it.
"It might even get banned as a forbidden book."
"Come on, it's a great masterpiece... but it's just literature, right?"
"Literature that shakes the soul."
"Well, that's—yeah, it could be.... Especially since the Papal Court is super sensitive about youth suicides."
Of course, I thought I'd made some preparations. For example, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde also ends with the protagonist's suicide. The protagonist, tormented between sin and reason, ends his life that way. But it can also be seen as a martyrdom where Jekyll sacrifices himself to kill Hyde. In other words, an ambiguous ending that's suicide but not quite suicide. The experience of reading that novel would soften the shock of a protagonist's suicide ending.
"But since it's your book, Author, it should be fine, right? There's even talk of beatifying Homerus thanks to The Little Prince!"
"The author and the work are separate. It's possible just this book gets banned."
"You're right...."
And The Little Prince was a mirror that made readers reflect on themselves. It freed them from blind longing, urging them to look around. This would help escape the narrow vision that pushes suicide-risk individuals toward death.
"Ugh... this is tough! But we can't not publish it, right? Keeping a masterpiece like this to myself would be a sin against all you book lovers! Haaah...."
"You really want to publish it yourself, don't you?"
"Of course! You can't hand it to another publisher! I'll do it no matter what! Hehe."
Plus, through pulp fiction like the Conan saga, I'd released fantasy—a dopamine drug for escaping reality—into this world. Cheap opium that helps weary people endure their harsh days. That was the role of lowbrow pulp fiction. Side-effect-free opium, you could say.
"That's why your role is crucial, President Dolling."
"What can I even do...?"
I'd done all the preparations I could. Now it was time to infuse literature with the soul of Romanticism.
"First, gather the addresses of all the readers who sent fan letters."
"Pardon?"
"Let's hold an event for our fans."
With this, literature would take another step forward.
"Uh, all of them? There are thousands, no, over ten thousand...?"
"Too hard?"
"Of course not! Leave it to me!"
You are invited to a meeting with Homerus the author.
Invitations arrived for the readers who had sent fan letters. It was a kind of fan meeting. A fan meeting with Homerus, the empire's most influential author. A golden opportunity anyone in the empire would envy.
"Haaaaah! An in, invitation! Th-this isn't a dream, right?! I really get to meet Homerus?! Thank you, Lord!"
"Homerus is a god!"
Naturally, news of the fan meeting spread quickly, stirring excitement across the empire.
"Lady Isolette! Th-that's—could it be...?"
"Hehe, yes. An invitation from Homerus. I already met him once at the last contest awards, but I can't refuse an invitation like this. Hehehe...."
"Guh, th-then, sell it to me—."
"Oh? Selling an invitation? How could I do something so vulgar?"
"Right...."
Homerus invitations traded for prices similar to their weight in gold. No, higher than gold.
"R-really?! If I sell the invitation... you'll cover all my father's medical bills?"
"Of course. Not just treatment—I'll sponsor everything needed for living. Just give me that one invitation."
"It's a shame not to meet Homerus in person... but no helping it. Father's treatment comes first. But you have to keep your promise!"
"Here's the contract, prepared."
People's joys and sorrows intertwined depending on whether they secured an invitation or not. And finally, the day of Homerus's first official fan meeting arrived.
The fan meeting venue. Unlike the awards ceremony with just a few hundred, thousands participated this time. I sat in the waiting room. Beside me, President Dolling cheered me on in an exaggerated tone.
"Author! You got this! Relax!"
"You seem more nervous than me...?"
"Hehe. I have to be ready for any accidents!"
I looked in the mirror. The Hide Potion had blended my past life's face half with this one's. I took a deep breath and left the waiting room. Thousands stared at me.
"I'm thrilled to be here with you all today."
I began the opening speech as rehearsed. This speech was the real reason for the 'fan meeting.'
"Before we dive into the main event, I have something to say to you all."
True sincerity brings heaven's will. Man plans, but heaven decides success. Man is heaven.
"Dear readers—"
In other words, plan well and move people's hearts to succeed.
"—I have a dream."
To move hearts, plagiarize writing that moves hearts. So I did. The speech.
"That dream is deeply rooted in my literature and yours. I have a dream that children raised on my books, and adults reminiscing over them, will help and understand each other through the precious 'Word' given by the Lord."
Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech. Plagiarized.
"A thousand years ago, the greatest boast was 'I heard the Savior's Word directly.' Today, after the Savior returned to the Lord, the world's greatest boast is 'I can read the Bible.'"
John F. Kennedy's "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech. Plagiarized.
"There are those who say our faith is an outdated custom to discard. Read them the Bible. Those who call the religious faithful foolish. Read them the Bible. Those who say religion blocks human will. Read them the Bible. Read the Bible to the cold-hearted!"
I changed all the great speeches to urge reading the Bible, but their essence remained. This was an appeal.
"Life can be free and beautiful, yet we've forgotten how."
An earnest appeal to the heart. Not reason, but emotion-piercing.
"I have a dream!"
The Sorrows of Young Werther was undoubtedly blasphemous biblically. But it held powerful magic to grip and shake souls. So, make the Bible's Word even more powerful.
In this era of printing presses churning out tens of thousands of Bibles daily, where everyone has one on their shelf yet turns from faith in busy lives—reminding them of the Bible wasn't hard.
"I have a dream that our literature-loving children—, the greatest literature created by the Lord Himself—the ancient hymns, will learn love and peace from His Word and realize it on this earth!"
The Bible was the greatest literature. All works—novels, plays, poems, speeches—were mere reinterpretations of that great literature. So I plagiarized. Took history-changing Christian speeches from my past life, plagiarized, pieced, edited, reinterpreted into one speech.
"I have a dream!"
The speech continued for a long while. I'd rehearsed endlessly, but unsure if I'd memorized perfectly. And when it finally ended.
"Thank you for enduring the long speech. Now, let's start the handshake session—."
"Kyaaaaah—!!!"
"Waaaaah—!!!"
The thunderous cheers forced me to cover my ears for a while.
"Ah, President. Thanks for the fan meeting prep. It went well thanks to you."
"Author.... That speech... you made it just to publish one book...?"
"Ah, yes."
"Author. I didn't want to say this, but... you seem a bit crazy."
"I hear that a lot."