Chapter 42: A Critique of The Saturday Evening Post

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“…It has been three weeks since the fall of France, and the swastika flag of Nazi Germany is now fluttering from the North Cape of Norway to the foothills of the Pyrenees. In the early hours of yesterday, the German Luftwaffe conducted its first large-scale flight over the White Cliffs of Dover—Hawker Hurricanes of the Royal Air Force and the German Messerschmitt squadrons engaged in fierce dogfights over Kent County. The English Channel is rapidly becoming the newest inferno of the world war!”

“At the same time, the Mussolini government has ordered the main Italian forces to gather in Libya, preparing to attack Egypt. The British colonies along the southern shore of the Mediterranean now face the threat of encirclement.”

“In occupied Paris, the German military command has issued decrees forcing French factories to produce parts for the German war machine. Meanwhile, General de Gaulle, exiled in London, continues to rally the French people to resist via broadcasts on the BBC: ‘The flame of France will never be extinguished!’”

“At this moment, London lies in ruins after bombardment. In response, Prime Minister Churchill will hold a confidential conference tonight at 10 Downing Street with the leaders of the dominions. As the Prime Minister declared last week in the House of Commons: ‘The Führer’s war machine must be stopped on the beaches!’”

The broadcast time passed in an instant...

As the broadcast was about to end, the background carried the Westminster chimes.

“This is Today’s Europe. May God bless all those who hold fast to the flame of freedom in these dark times. Please join us again at the same hour tomorrow for updates on the war.”

The announcer’s closing words faded into silence, followed by a snippet of the English patriotic song “Land of Hope and Glory.”

George frowned as he sipped his coffee; Mary was absorbed by the washing machine, while Michi quietly shouldered his backpack and left for school...

The current state of the war in Europe could only be described as “speechless and choking back tears!”

After France’s surrender on June 22 and the end of the Battle of France, Germany had conquered France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Denmark, and Norway. Britain was the last bastion still resisting in Western Europe.

Meanwhile, the Vichy regime was established. The French parliament voted to grant Henri Philippe Pétain full legislative, judicial, executive, and diplomatic powers, electing him as Head of State. The only hope for freedom remained with General de Gaulle exiled in London.

With Pétain’s full support of Nazi Germany, the Third Reich grew ever stronger, leaving Britain, the last holdout in Western Europe, struggling to breathe.

Not only the American public, but the entire world was watching this war closely.

After all, Britain was the final “pivot” of the anti-fascist alliance in Western Europe. Should it fall, Nazi Germany would no longer have to worry about fighting on multiple fronts, allowing it to dominate and expand across the Western European continent without restraint.

After Today’s Europe ended, George focused on reading the newspaper, hoping to finish before heading out to work.

Although Enni was now earning money, as a father and husband, George could not just lie at home and live off his son; he would despise himself if he did.

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Of course, Enni’s newfound income relieved much of George’s mental burden. Although work remained hard every day, he could visibly see fewer white hairs on his head.

Mary was even more carefree. Freed from financial worries, her daily routine now consisted of listening to culinary radio programs, reading Women’s Home Magazine to learn about “healthy eating” and “disease prevention,” and helping at the church to find a future daughter-in-law for Enni. In short, she did everything possible to avoid hearing any news about the war.

As for Michi... at school, he was already something of a young millionaire. Being naturally handsome and clad in brand-name dresses, he was quite popular. If American middle schoolers weren’t more conservative than those of later generations, every day there would probably be a crowd of “blond-haired youngsters” gathered downstairs by their building.

Indeed, no matter the world, having money was the surest way to avoid hardship.

Enni sipped his coffee, quietly grateful that his earnings could provide some shelter for his family in this harsh world.

Finishing his coffee, Enni wiped his mouth and prepared to leave with the manuscript of “Whale Song” to deliver to John Campbell at Smith Publishing.

It made him somewhat reflective—just over a month ago, he was a fledgling writer awaiting responses from submissions; now he was a regular at Weird Stories, welcomed anytime at the editorial office.

Just as Enni was about to leave, pushing his bicycle...

George’s rough fingers clenched tightly, crumpling the newspaper with a sharp rustling sound.

His already knitted brows furrowed deeper as he stared at the dark headline of a novel review in The New York Times—“The Bronx Tale: A Distorted Picture of America—Reprinted from the Saturday Evening Post’s Book Review Column.”

Though George was a worker with little education, he could still discern the quality of a review.

He immediately grew angry and said displeased, “Who is this person, daring to criticize Enni’s novel?”

Mary, engrossed in enjoying the convenience of the automatic washing machine, wiped her hands and looked up at her husband, “George, let me see!”

Though neither had much habit of reading, both knew the title of Enni’s novel. Seeing someone dare to criticize their son was enough to hit their “forbidden spot.”

Enni, just putting on his shoes, stopped mid-action upon hearing George’s words. He took off the shoe on his right foot and walked back inside.

“Enni, look at this! Do you know what magazine this is? They dare criticize you but don’t even have the courage to print their name,” Mary said, glancing at the review reprinted in The New York Times, already angry.

Their anger was simple—regardless of right or wrong, criticizing their son was intolerable!

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Enni took the newspaper from George and saw the headline at a glance. Upon realizing the review was from the Saturday Evening Post, he immediately understood.

The Saturday Evening Post, one of America’s best-selling periodicals at the time, published novels and advertisements almost exclusively centered on white people.

While it didn’t contain the outright racism seen in many Southern newspapers, the magazine’s message was clear—it upheld “traditional American values” and was quite conservative, frequently criticizing anything that deviated from tradition.

Even during the Great Depression, when President Roosevelt implemented his New Deal policies, the Saturday Evening Post attacked him for “betraying tradition.”

It was unsurprising, then, that Enni’s “The Bronx Tale” would be condemned by these conservatives.

For such old-guard publications, a proper and excellent portrayal of interracial “warmth” would likely only follow one narrative—a loyal black servant and a kind white master.

Enni shook his head helplessly. Though slightly upset, he optimistically thought this meant The Atlantic Monthly was selling quite well in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where the Saturday Evening Post was headquartered.

Otherwise, the editors wouldn’t have bothered sending someone to write a review just to criticize him.

What was disdainful, however, was that the review was published anonymously, with a somewhat covert tone.

Enni silently despised the author of this review, then began reading downward from the headline.

[Before formally reviewing, I must first state—Enni Riser is undoubtedly a powerful writer, yet he chooses to waste this power on a work lacking artistic merit and filled with infuriating propaganda!]

[This novel has been hailed by some critics as “bold” and a “realist masterpiece,” which makes me suspect some minority groups are deliberately hyping it. Certainly, the author possesses narrative skill, vividly depicting the bustling street life... However, upon closing this book, any discerning reader will feel a profound unease—not because of the story’s cruelty, but because of the insidious, destructive philosophy underlying it!]

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