Chapter 3: The Best Seller List
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Was fantasy unpopular nowadays?
Wang Jian continued to browse through the rankings on the bestselling list.
Suddenly, he found one that sounded suspiciously like a fantasy novel—”The Dragonlance Chronicles”.
It was ranked Number 19 on the bestselling list.
“The Hobbit”, “The Lord of the Rings” and a few others were also ranked in the Top 100 on the bestselling list.
However, the main point was there was not a single fantasy novel written within the last few years!
Could it be that readers’ had a change of taste, and fantasy novels no longer held the potential to sell well?
Or, could it be that no authors were willing to write fantasy novels nowadays?
Wang Jian was a bit concerned. Would “I Am the Grand Master” appeal to the average American reader?
More importantly, would it sell?
At that moment, the door opened.
Al came in and asked Wang Jian, “Hey, Wang. Have you had any luck with job hunting?”
He looked up and noticed Al, whose sleepy eyes looked back at him. A few of his stubby dreadlocks stood up messily.
“Ugh, I don’t wanna talk about it,” Wang Jian said, slightly annoyed, “That old White man wanted an African-American waiter, I got brushed off as soon as I walked through the door.”
“Huh? He’s looking for African-Americans?” Al was stunned at first, but then it dawned on him, “You mean, he’s trying to find niggers?”
“I guess I understand his thought process,” Al said, “but lately you Yellows have had a real hard time finding jobs in non-Japanese neighborhoods. Those Japs are so arrogant, no one likes them.”
“But I’m Chinese,” Wang Jian said helplessly, “I’m not Japanese.”
“Well, to most White people, you’re no different,” Al scoffed and said, “I’m a Nigerian, and my friend across the street is Cameroonian, but we’re all niggers in their eyes.”
“In America, only the Whites have the right to be identified differently. They could be Irish, they could be German, whatever else,” Al continued, “If you really can’t find a job, just hang with me and the big boys. How much money can you actually make going to work?”
“Uh, I’ll think about it.” Wang Jian replied.
‘Getting involved with gangs?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’
The morality from within his bloodline prevented Wang Jian from going down that dark path.
Even if he was dirt poor and scraping for a bite to eat, he would never consider it.
Al shrugged and said, “Suit yourself, but it’s almost time to pay the rent again.”
Then, he walked towards the bathroom.
Wang Jian scratched his head in violent frustration, feeling completely powerless.
He was trapped in the Bronx, jobless.
The hardest thing in life is waking up and realizing there’s no way to move forward.
If there was an opening for him in a factory somewhere, he would jump at the opportunity immediately. However, the American manufacturing industry had been completely taken over by the Japanese.
Most of the remaining industries that made good money required an expert level of practical knowledge and training.
Not to mention, the Whites were losing their jobs left and right. What was left for him?
‘Tomorrow, I’ll go to the bookstore. I’m going to scout out some of the more recent bestsellers.’ Wang Jian thought to himself.
Soon after, Al had a change of clothes and bid Wang Jian goodbye before he headed out to hang out with the “big guy”.
As soon as Al had left, Wang Jian turned on the lights and slowly began to copy down each Chinese character from the “I Am the Grand Master” novel in his mind.
It soon grew dark outside.
The occasional scream of a man or a woman was heard, sometimes a handful of gunshots echoed through the cold night.
This was a routine occurrence in the Bronx..
The next day, warm sunlight shone jolted Wang Jian awake, the warm rays bathing his body in a golden glow.
Had he actually spent the entire night writing?
Catching sight of the thick stack of manuscript papers that had been piled onto the desk, Wang Jian had to rub his eyes, momentarily caught in a state of disarray.
He quickly recalled that he had planned to go to the bookstore today.
After washing up, he ate something and walked out of the house.
In the Bronx, it was a lot easier to find marijuana or a pistol than a bookstore.
As Wang Jian could recall, the nearest bookstores were on the outskirts of the Bronx.
Although it belonged to the Bronx, it was somewhat closer to Brooklyn and served as an ethereal paradise.
It was packed to the brim with hippies from rich families.
They wanted to be different, and they pretentiously called it “art”.
To be fair, there may have been a handful of talented artists who unfortunately did not land a break, but the rest were clearly a bunch of posers whose main goal was to be “unique”.
Though the security was significantly better in this area because of the rich.
Apart from rampant drug abuse, violent crimes were less common here than the rest of the Bronx.
Wang Jian took the bus. He took notice shortly after that the scene was completely different from the inner circles of the Bronx.
Instead of gang members hidden under gang hoodies and tattoos of guns and knives, there were young men wearing black eyeshadow and black leather jackets.
‘What’s this style called again?
‘Oh yeah, punk.’
Wang Jian caught sight of a White girl who had a nose piercing. As she walked past him, he felt a mild toothache.
‘These guys are just f*cking around!’
Fortunately, there was a bookstore right around the corner.
The bookstore was decorated in a way that was far from what Wang Jian had in mind.
There was a large bat bookstore’s exterior, and in front of the bat, a masked Spider-man was distributing flyers.
Before Wang Jian even entered the bookstore, he could see the long line that stretched outside the bookstore.
Most of the people waiting in line were ashy and bespectacled. Half of them were Black and the other half, White.
He grabbed one of the boys in line and asked, “Hey bro, what’s going on?”
The fat White guy in his clutches had a pronounced, pale face. He looked at Wang Jian, surprised. “You don’t know? The latest “Spider-Man” issue is being released today!”
“Spider-Man?” Wang Jian loosened his grip and thought to himself, ‘”Spider-Man” is popular? Seems like it’s a lot more popular than “Aquaman.”‘
When he entered the bookstore, he noticed it was divided into two sections.
In a small space further within the bookstore was a treasure trove of books, including the ones he’d seen on the bestselling list last night.
However, there were only a handful of people in that space. He was unsure whether it was because it was too early in the day or it was because the books simply weren’t selling as well as expected.
The other section—the outer one, was a larger space that sold mainly comic books and comic-related products.
There was already a long line at the cashier.
Most of the people in line were holding hardcover editions of “Spider-Man” and “Spider-Man” figurines.
Wang Jian made his way to the bestselling book corner and picked out a few fantasy novels from last night’s research—The Dragonlance Chronicles, The Dark Elves, and The Lord of the Rings.
He found a stool that he could sit on so he could begin his reading.
After half an hour of poring over the pages, he stood up giddily.
There was no denying that these novels were beautifully written, with fully-fleshed backgrounds that gave deep meaning.
But…
Wang Jian couldn’t bring himself to read any further.
It was supposed to be a simple novel; people read novels to relax and relieve their stress.
The author created such a complicated setting with so many main characters…
Wasn’t it exhausting to read?
If he wanted to read classic literature, he could look for titles like, “Wuthering Heights” or “Notre Dame de Paris.”
Even “The Count of Monte Cristo” would have been better than these books by any stretch of the imagination.
Did he have a skewed opinion of what a good novel should be like?
Wang Jian looked up at the people around him who were reading; many of them were women. One of them was looking at some sort of poetry book.
‘Uh…’
In his opinion, regardless of the timeframe and era, people who enjoyed poetry were few and far between. Hence, these people didn’t represent the current market of novels at all.
With that in mind, Wang Jian raised his head and casted a glance towards the other side of the bookstore.
‘Why don’t I check out the latest edition of the “Spider-Man” comic books?’
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