Chương 169: Soft Blockade

The newsstand owner, however, was a shrewd man. He glanced at the newspaper and said, "If you don't buy it, there's a long line behind you. This is a special edition that Miss Isabella specifically requested."

O The accountant, grumbling, tried to throw the newspaper back, but then he caught a glimpse of a small line of text in the subheading: A bank is more than just people and tellers; it's a monster. It needs profits to breathe, and to survive, it must devour you, even if it doesn't want to.

The words were like some kind of spell, instantly grabbing his attention.

Having worked at the bottom of Chase Manhattan Bank for ten years, he was all too familiar with this description.

He spends his days processing documents for this "monster," watching it devour people like him.

For some inexplicable reason, he didn't return the item, but instead took the newspaper and squeezed onto the subway.

An eerie, deathly silence permeated the subway car.

Normally, people would talk about baseball or complain about the weather.

But today, everyone holding a copy of the New York Herald is reading it in silence.

Those readers who had been expecting comfort felt like they had been slapped in the face.

In his previous article, Arthur Kennedy taught them to "make peace with suffering," but in this one he tells them that "suffering is man-made, and reconciliation is surrender."

This stark contrast constitutes the most lethal bait in communication studies.

The most potent poison was wrapped in a sweet, sugary coating and delivered to the dining tables of countless households without any hindrance.

Meanwhile, in the upper echelons of Wall Street, the reaction was even more intense and panicked.

In a Goldman Sachs meeting room, a partner slammed a newspaper down on a mahogany desk.

"That madman! I knew there was a reason what happened in Indiana! Look at what he wrote, this guy definitely got our internal information illegally!"

"Sue him! Sue him for defamation! Sue him for leaking trade secrets!"

The legal director wiped his sweat and explained, "If we sue him for leaking trade secrets," it would be tantamount to admitting that the dirty tricks described in the novel were true. That's precisely where that bastard's brilliance lies.

He hid the truth in a fictional story, and if we jump out to refute it, it's like sticking our heads into a noose.

The partner slumped back into his chair.

Meanwhile, Walter Lippmann wrote a new commentary overnight, which was published in the New York World that evening.

The article is titled: "Literature's Riot Gun".

Lippmann wrote in the article: We must be wary of what Arthur Kennedy is doing. He has invented an extremely dangerous literary genre. He sells cheap hope with his left hand and expensive truth with his right.

He used the former to anesthetize society, and the latter to dissect it.

This book, The Grapes of Wrath, isn't the kind of classic that gathers dust on a bookshelf; it's a riot gun loaded with live ammunition, its muzzle pointed directly at every vested interest. It tells us: if the law cannot protect the Jord family, then the Jord family has the right to pick up a hunting rifle.

This comment, seemingly critical but actually praising, became the best example of what GG could be.

At 4 p. m., the New York Herald announced a third printing.

Isabella even had to borrow printing presses from her competitors.

The whole of New York is reading this book. From the skyscrapers of Wall Street to the Hoover Village on the ground floor, Arthur Kennedy's name is once again at the center of the storm.

That former "honest man on Wall Street," and later "motivational guru," has finally shown his fangs.

He told everyone: Chicken soup may taste good, but it can't save lives. Only anger can ignite a fire for warmth.

Washington, D. C.

The atmosphere inside the Department of Justice building was oppressive and suffocating.

Although it wasn't snowing outside, every agent entering and leaving the Bureau of Investigation's office felt a chill in the air.

Director Edgar Hoover sat behind his desk, on which lay only a thin supplement to the New York Herald.

He had been staring at that headline for half an hour.

If it were any other "red propaganda," Hoover had a thousand ways to make it disappear. He could have shut down the printing presses— The factory can arrest editors and even use the Postal Act to intercept publication.

But this book, The Grapes of Wrath, is like a slippery eel coated in grease, impossible to handle.

"Director, the legal counsel's analysis report is ready." The assistant nervously handed over a document.

Hoover opened the report, read only a few lines, and his brows furrowed deeply.

That's the trickiest part of this damn book.

The entire book contains not a single prohibited word, and even the terms "strike" and "revolution" are mentioned very rarely.

Arthur Kennedy cleverly focuses the story on the most traditional American values: "family," "land," and "survival."

The Joad family weren't radicals; they just wanted to farm, raise their children, and live on their own land. These were rights granted in the Declaration of Independence, the cornerstone of the American Dream.

Arthur portrayed this group of most traditional Americans as victims crushed by the capitalist machine.

The bank, which appears as the villain, becomes a scoundrel who opposes family and tradition.

If Hoover claimed that this book was "anti-American," then he was denying the sanctity of "family" and "land."

If he claims the book incites riots, the protagonist in the book even tries to reason with the law when he is being bullied.

"He predicted our predictions." Hoover closed the report, his voice cold.

"He knew we would label him a leftist, so he packaged himself as a conservative lamenting traditional American values. This Irishman is more politically savvy than I thought."

"So what do we do, Chief? We've heard from New York that this book is spreading across the country through railroad unions and truck drivers' networks. Some workers are even reading it like the Bible."

Hoover stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the Capitol Hill in the distance.

"Since we can't openly ban it, let it die naturally."

Hoover issued the order: "Send word to all the major book retailers across the country. Tell them that due to paper shortages and logistical difficulties, this issue's priority should be reduced to the lowest level. Have the bookstores put it in the most inconspicuous corner, or just let it gather dust in the warehouse."

"Furthermore, find a few reputable literary critics to publish reviews in the newspapers. Avoid politics; focus solely on the literary merit. Say the book is crudely written, loosely structured, and merely a third-rate sentimental novel with no collectible value. We should define it as 'street literature only for uncultured poor people.'"