Postscript

Postscript

I hear that in America, bookstores are on the brink of collapse. While it’s not quite that bad in Japan, it’s becoming increasingly common for a local bookstore that was open up until yesterday to be out of business today.

I live near a university—well, just one train station away from one—and to be honest, the scarcity of bookstores in the area makes me ask in disbelief, “Is this really a college town?” Three or four years ago, a big, three-story bookstore opened there. They had a great selection. The station was also nearby. In other words, they’d done everything right, but they quickly grew anxious. There were few customers. Bizarrely few. This university is rather well known because the children of a number of celebrities attend it. But even they must have to study. Granted, these days books can be purchased over the Internet, where there’s an even larger selection than in bookstores and delivery can be much faster. However, the relationship between people (students in particular) and bookstores has more to it than just that. You go in looking for a particular book, and while you’re milling around you spot another title that looks interesting and buy that instead. Or sometimes you just leave without buying anything at all. (laughs) I think that’s the great thing about bookstores.

When I was little, there was a children’s book about giant movie monsters with stills from 1933’s King Kong, and just about every day I went into the neighborhood bookstore to stand there looking at them. At the appointed hour every day I’d vanish from my house, and then return again on the same schedule. Finding this behavior suspicious, my father had one of his employees from our family’s restaurant tail me. Even now, I still recall how my heart beat faster as I stood in the corner of that bookstore, staring in endless fascination at the still of King Kong battling a Tyrannosaurus rex. And that’s probably why I enjoyed visiting bookstores so much.

Even in this day and age, bookstores are “chests of unknown treasures.” A world of things unknown to me are collected there, in pictures and words. Having stood in a store and read a book cover to cover without purchasing anything, I’ve been chastised by the shop owner, who said, “You ought to buy it,” but even that didn’t stop me from going to bookstores to hang around and read. Certainly Internet shopping is a way of making purchases that fits our busy modern lifestyles, but it’s unfortunate that thrilling times like those I spent in the corner of that bookstore furtively gazing at a treasure that was mine alone are gradually fading from the world.

However, there is hope. The Japanese consider books not just as printed matter but as art, according to the design, illustrations, binding, and size and style of font. There’s a beauty that in itself demands to be acknowledged, to be purchased—that may not be the best path, but it’s one the people of this country are all too happy to embrace. Of course, for books, the content is the most important thing. However, we believe it’s not the only thing. While in one sense it’s sad that we’re losing all the small bookstores and are left with only the large chains, the fact that some bookstores are still healthy not only allows me to see and select books with my own two eyes, but also gives me a feeling of relief and bolsters my spirits.

May 1, 2014

While watching 30 Days of Night (2007)

Hideyuki Kikuchi