Chapter 19: The World's Winter

Like Puzo, Asimov read *A Bronx Tale* twice before finally setting the manuscript aside, still feeling a lingering desire for more as he sipped black tea to soothe his throat.

Last time, he had been struck by the grandeur and tragedy of *Listening to the Tao*, feeling a surging, oceanic swell of emotion that seemed to roll in from the cosmos. This time, he was moved by the themes of friendship, family, the passage of time, and disillusionment in *A Bronx Tale*. Although the emotional impact was not as explosive as the former, it possessed the long, winding resonance of the tide receding, leaving behind a vast, desolate expanse on the beach—a foam-like melancholy that persists in life after the washing away of years, a cool, damp trace left lingering in the soul.

Asimov articulated his feelings upon finishing the story, using precise metaphors to describe that ineffable emotional aftershock.

Puzo said with some surprise, "Your critique is excellent—it truly rivals the reviewers at those top-tier publications."

Asimov scratched his cheek. "Actually, I am working toward becoming a literary critic. The reviewers currently dominating the literary scene only care for mainstream literature, and there is an unfortunate trend: the reviews published in those top magazines shape public taste. Therefore, I hope that through my own efforts, I can one day review and legitimize 'genre literature.' To me, genres like science fiction, detective fiction, fantasy, and westerns all possess social function and value. Take science fiction, for example; in this era of rapid technological development, using sci-fi to call for social attention to technological ethics and environmental protection is quite prophetic."

Having heard Asimov out, Puzo said with emotion and admiration, "Isaac, you are truly a polymath."

Puzo felt he had learned much from Asimov. At the same time, knowing Asimov was an elite student at Columbia University, he felt a mix of envy and a firm resolve to save money for college himself.

The conversation shifted back.

Asimov was also slightly concerned for Ennie. "Your story is good, but this style is difficult to place in a publication. The main issue is that your content alludes to the isolationism and nativist sentiments currently in vogue. If it were published... it would be easy for those with ulterior motives to deliberately misinterpret it and blow it out of proportion. Puzo’s novel faces the same problem."

With the outbreak of the Dunkirk evacuation and the intensification of the war, many isolationists among the public had begun to waver, fearing that they would have to join the fight, lest they be left alone when the time came for the rabbit to mourn the fox. At the same time, this wavering among a small minority only made the cries of the extremist isolationists more intense. There were even rumors that these anti-war activists and isolationists were planning to form a large anti-war organization to stage protests against Roosevelt.

Among them, the most famous was an American aviator named Charles Augustus Lindbergh. From May 20 to 21, 1927, he had piloted the single-engine *Spirit of St. Louis* across the Atlantic from New York City to Paris in 33.5 hours without landing. In that era, aviation technology was far from mature, and there were no navigation or positioning systems. Lindbergh’s 33.5-hour non-stop flight, performed without sleep, challenged not only the limits of technology but the limits of human physiology—a feat that made him a household hero in America.

Although Lindbergh had visited Germany in 1938 and publicly expressed his support for Nazi Germany, drawing much criticism and controversy, the weight of such a figure speaking out for isolationism was immense. Moreover, besides Lindbergh, many other figures in business and politics were voicing support for isolationism. Given the current situation, voices capable of a rational understanding of the war were far too few. It was easy to imagine the harsh criticism Ennie and Puzo’s novels might face if published.

However, Ennie and Puzo were already prepared for that. Fortunately, *Black Mask* was still categorized as a "pulp magazine" and had not been burdened with too many political attributes.

Ennie remarked with a relaxed attitude, "I might not even get published, so what is there to worry about?"

Furthermore, upon closer inspection, although Puzo’s novel featured an "anti-war organization," he had handled the ending specifically to avoid "deliberate indictment." The plot saw Manon being raped by a cousin of a gang member within the anti-war group who had acted on his own lust, ultimately leading her to bite off her tongue and commit suicide in shame. This unexpected death, stripped of any moralizing and focusing purely on violence and crime, was designed by Puzo to weaken the sense of preaching.

This portrayal of the "contingency and unknowability of the world" added a touch of the "absurd" to the story, mirroring the nihilistic tendencies of individuals during wartime—it carried a certain Jean-Paul Sartre-esque philosophical weight. Of course, the most important thing was that this ending could help the novel avoid being branded with too heavy a political label.

Puzo listened as Ennie and Asimov delved deeper into his story, feeling a sense of profound admiration he couldn't quite put into words. The three of them chatted about war, politics, and literature. It seemed that every era of turmoil had its small groups of people who loved to hold "roundtable discussions"—likely, ever since ancient times, when humans felt the dangers of the world, they had adopted this community-style connection to gain a temporary sense of security.

By evening, the three of them dropped their manuscripts into the mailbox on the street corner outside the candy store.

...

Time flew by to June 8, 1940.

Throughout this month, the emotions of all Americans had been in a complex state between "relief and worry," "shock and unease."

On one hand, the Dunkirk evacuation, which had held the world's gaze, finally concluded on the morning of June 4. Contrary to Churchill’s prediction that "at most 40,000 could be evacuated," the Dunkirk evacuation created a miracle the world could scarcely imagine, successfully pulling 340,000 Allied soldiers from the Nazi death trap. Despite the loss of massive amounts of equipment, the core strength for a future counterattack had been preserved. On June 4, Prime Minister Churchill delivered his "We shall fight on the beaches" speech in the House of Commons, greatly boosting morale.

However, the worrying reality was that the failure at Dunkirk meant almost the entire continent of Western Europe had fallen under the iron heel of the German army. The remaining French forces were unable to resist the German encirclement and annihilation; the French Third Republic was unavoidably heading toward collapse. Meanwhile, Italy, next door, had caught the scent of the "prey." Although they had not yet formally declared war on France, Mussolini had ordered troops to assemble on the French-Italian border, watching and waiting for the right moment to declare war and claim a share of the spoils without a fight.

France’s continued collapse was also the source of the "shock" among the American public. In the eyes of most Americans, France had been a "victorious ally" in World War I, possessing one of the most formidable armies in Europe. That it should crumble so quickly was utterly beyond their comprehension.

On the streets of New York, newspapers reporting on the Battle of France were scattered everywhere, and radios continued to broadcast the news of the French defeat. The world seemed to have become more chaotic, as if winter were coming.

But even in the midst of winter, life went on...

At Story Press, the publisher of *Black Mask* magazine, editor Fanny Ellison sipped her tea, smoked her Lucky Strike cigarette, and turned her eyes toward two manuscripts from the same address: *The Gentleman* and *A Bronx Tale*.

...

PS: Mario Puzo served in the U.S. military during World War II and used the benefits provided by the G.I. Bill of Rights to attend college after the war. He first enrolled at the City College of New York before going to Columbia University to study literature.