A tale of two indie bookshops

Shakespeare and Company in Paris + BooksActually in Singapore

Tables, Shakespeare and Company

There’s this little scene at the start of the film Before Sunset when Ethan Hawke’s character, Jesse, a writer who is promoting his new book at a Parisian bookshop, looks up from replying a journalist’s question and notices for the first time a woman he last saw nine years ago in Vienna.

The woman, played by French actress Julie Delpy, may well be the love of Jesse’s life and it’s an incredibly romantic moment. “Are they still in love?” the viewers wonder. I know I am – in love with the bookshop, that is.

The bookshop, Shakespeare and Company, still stands today. Opened in 1951 by George Whitman at Kilometre Zero in Paris, the point from which all French roads begin, it was initially called Le Mistral.

The American-born Whitman changed it to the present name in April 1964 to celebrate William Shakespeare’s 400th birthday and in honour of a bookseller he admired, Sylvia Beach. Beach had founded the original Shakespeare and Company at 12 rue de l’Odéon in 1919. It closed in 1941.

In its heydays the original Shakespeare and Company was a gathering place for writers – Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald being two of the more famous names – and it was with Beach’s blessings that Whitman borrowed her shop’s name and continued her good work.

Opening time, Shakespeare and Company

Today most visitors to the French capital miss this tiny bookshop as they flock to the touristy Notre Dame opposite. A pity, really; there’s as much history here in the book-laden shelves as there are in Gothic churches.

Constructed in the late 16th century, the building was originally a monastery, La Maison du Mustier. A line written above one doorway – “Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise” – captures the spirit of the shop to become a welcoming home for writers and readers everywhere.

Here are books to browse through or buy, author readings to attend, and even a bed. Yes, a bed! Whitman invited writers, artists and intellectuals to sleep in the shop, an offer Beat poet Allen Ginsberg took him up on it, as have more than 20,000 young writers in the past six decades.

For book lovers like me, visiting Shakespeare and Company for the first time is not unlike making a pilgrimage. One could spend hours, nay, days here amongst rows and shelves of books. Unlike commercial bookshops where patrons tend to keep to themselves, here it’s not uncommon for strangers to strike up conversations and debate the merits of their favourite authors.

While flipping through a new graphic novel by Chris Ware, I find myself discussing the comic book genre as literature with a lanky Brit named John McNamara. He shares, “I’ve been a customer for more than 11 years now and I’ve actually worked here on-and-off for six of those years.”

McNamara is now an antiquarian books dealer specialising in Russian titles, and often travels around the work looking for other small, independent bookshops with character. He asks me if I know of any in my part of the world and without hesitation I suggest BooksActually.

Interior, BooksActually

Hidden away in the old Singaporean housing estate of Tiong Bahru, BooksActually was founded in 2005 by Kenny Leck, who had worked at larger chain bookstores before. There’s a bit of the Shakespeare and Company vibe here – books filling up the tiny space, friendly and knowledgeable staff – but with lots more natural sunlight.

The sunnier ambiance helps to open up the place, but make no mistake; BooksActually is no lightweight where book selection is concerned. According to Leck, “I personally curate all the titles we sell. It’s important that we only carry what we would buy with our own hard-earned money.”

In addition to running the bookshop, Leck had also set up Math Paper Press, a small press publisher of new and up-and-coming Singaporean authors. “Local writing is something that is close to my heart,” he says.

Leck hopes that by documenting these local stories via Math Paper Press and making the books available in BooksActually, a point of reference is left behind for future generations. Titles include The Invisible Manuscript by Alfian Sa’at, Scattered Vertebrae by Jerrold Yam, and Balik Kampung, the Verena Tay-edited collection of stories about Singaporean neighbourhoods.

There’s certainly plenty to read, and more importantly, interesting and topical content often not available elsewhere. The challenge, though, may be finding enough people who are still reading these days.

Leck acknowledges this and laments the slow death of the reading habit. He observes, “Reading and playing Candy Crush on your smartphone are both leisure activities. But the positive kickback from the latter is instant while the former takes time. In this fast-paced, connected world of ours, the demand for instant positive kickback is even higher than ever. However, with instant gratification, it follows the law of diminishing returns.”

I couldn’t agree more. There is nothing like snuggling up with a good book, especially one that has been hand-picked from hundreds others in an afternoon spent in a charming bookshop. There is a whole process, akin to an adventure that brings back memories from one’s childhood.

Around the world, the big chain bookstores are struggling to survive. Some giants such as Borders have succumbed and closed down. However, there is still room for smaller bookshops that have a specific clientele and carefully curate the books specifically for these customers.

In fact, independent bookshops such as Shakespeare and Company and BooksActually seem to be thriving. Why not help keep the adventure alive by hunting down a neighbourhood bookshop today? Who knows? You might discover some long-lost tome or bump into a former love in between those rows of bookshelves.

I love walking into a bookstore. It’s like all my friends are sitting on shelves, waving their pages at me.
Tahereh Mafi

Kenny Leck, BooksActually

Shakespeare and Company
37 rue de la Bûcherie, Paris, France
Open Mon-Fri 10am-11pm & Sat-Sun 11am-11pm
Tel: +33-1-4325-4093
Web: http://www.shakespeareandcompany.com/‎

9 Yong Siak St, Tiong Bahru, Singapore
Open Tue-Sat 11am-9pm & Sun-Mon 11am-6pm
Tel: +65-6222-9195
Web: http://www.booksactually.com/

An earlier version of this story was first published in The Malay Mail, August 22, 2013.


Wherever we find ourselves, are we facing each other?


“You’re not looking in the right direction!”

We are waiting for our train to get back to Furano, after visiting lavender farms in the countryside. Japanese transportation are famous for being on time but we are early, hence the waiting. It’s early summer but already the sun is beating down on us. We cover our heads with my jacket, and even in hiding from the heat, we can find some mischief to occupy ourselves with.

“Make a funny face. No, another funny face.”

Whatever did we do before smartphones to keep us occupied? Life’s not boring when you are making faces and sharing the ridiculous snaps on Instagram. We want to share our boredom with our friends, with the rest of the world. At least we don’t have to do this alone. We have each other, for amusement and for company.

“You stepped on my toe!”

Furano, Hokkaido, Japan


“Put the bottle of sesame oil next to the oyster sauce. Maybe it’ll fit better that way.”

The DHL guy and I are trying to figure out how best to fit these care items I’m sending you into the cardboard box. Bubble wrap makes everything bulkier and harder to arrange together. You told me you couldn’t find Chinese sauces and oils in Luanda. You haven’t seen peanut butter either. And certainly not specialty coffee beans. I pack a hand grinder too, of course.

“Good morning, dear! I’ve just woken up!”

Every day we exchange messages, seven hours apart. We tell each other when we wake and when we are going to bed. We exchange pictures of our meals, most of it homecooked. We never used to cook this much when we were together in KL, we laugh. Thank goodness for Wi-Fi and for FaceTime. It’s a little piece of magic seeing your face smiling back at me. We want so much more but this is enough, for now.

“You forgot to switch the camera; I’m seeing your feet. Turn it around so we’re facing each other?”

Furano, Hokkaido, Japan

If we are facing the right direction, all we have to do is keep walking.
Buddhist proverb

A good scent from a sacred mountain

One doesn't need to be a pilgrim for a spiritual journey into Koyasan

The journey up the mountain must have been a hard one for pilgrims on foot. For centuries, millions of devotees of Shingon-Buddhism have been trekking up the venerated Koyasan (Mount Koya) to get away from the secular world and live alongside monks at the secluded temples here. At over 3,000 feet above sea level, they are not likely to be disturbed at their refuge.

We aren’t pilgrims but weary of the bright lights and incessant noise of the city, we decide a sleepover at a 400-year-old temple might just be the perfect getaway.

Cedar skyline, Koyasan

Of course, we didn’t account for a summer typhoon hitting the Kii Peninsula with Koyasan rather ominously located at its centre. Is our trip over before we had even begun?

Thankfully, we quickly learn that we can always count on the Japanese to be prompt and efficient in handling crises. Still it takes us the better part of a day to reach our destination: first a JR-train ride from Kyoto to Osaka, then the JR-loop line from Osaka to Shin-Omiya, followed by the private Nankai rail from Shin-Omiya to Hamatsu, where a shuttle bus takes us to the following station (the typhoon did manage to inflict some damage on part of the railway after all), then onward to Gokurakubashi. Here we take the cable-car up to the Koyasan bus station, then a bus into the Koyasan town centre.

The view that greets us during the long journey is well worth any inconvenience we might have faced. Imagine the silent ride through the dense cedar forest; slowly revealing over a hundred temples built in the Edo period, each one more majestic than the one before. Welcome to Koyasan.

Temple lodgings, Koyasan

Of the 123 Shingon-Buddhist temples remaining on Koyasan, there are 53 where visitors may seek temple lodgings (shukubo). An overnight stay at a temple is an experience like no other; guests may observe the monks go about their daily rituals and are invited to take part in some, if so they wish.

Our bus drops us off at Shojoshin-in, the last stop before the Okunoin terminal. Shojoshin-in is also one of the largest and oldest temples in Koyasan, and next to the entrance to the Okunoin cedar forest. Walking through the temple courtyard we are treated to a fine sample of a traditional Japanese garden. Trees like azaleas (tsutsuji), Japanese apricot (ume) and willow (yanagi) have been carefully planted according to the rules of landscaping or sakuteiki.

We are greeted at the arrival hall by a friendly, bespectacled Japanese monk who speaks perfect English. The young monk tells us there are only a few rules guests must abide by, mostly dealing with the strict mealtimes and evening curfew. We nod, promising to be on time for dinner later that evening. (Little does the good monk know that a real Malaysian would never miss a single meal!)

Walking in the cedar forest, Koyasan

After leaving the luggage in our room, we head straight to the ancient cedar forest next door. The giant trees here are hundreds of years old and tower over us easily, the thick weave of their branches casting eerie shadows on the stone path. On both sides of the path are sacred tombs and gravestones, over 200,000 of them. It’s as though we have stumbled upon Tolkien’s Lothlórien by way of Hayao Miyazaki.

Some of the stone idols on the tombs are adorned with red bibs; this is meant for Ojizō-sama, the guardian of lost children, especially those who die before their parents. The bibs (and other children’s items like toys) are left there by grieving parents so the bodhisattva may give their children special protection. These are the children of the cedar forest.

It’s a beautiful if sombre walk.

At the end of the path, pilgrims pay their respects at the mausoleum of Kōbō-Daishi, the monk who brought Buddhism to Japan from China in 805 A.D. This is the heart of Okunoin, regarded as the most sacred spot on the mountain. Most of the pilgrims, usually elderly Japanese, will pray at Torodo (the Hall of Lanterns) where more than 10,000 lanterns burn night and day. Some of these lanterns are rumoured to have remained lit for over a thousand years.

We walk away after offering our own prayers, leaving the heady scent of cedar and the silence of the forest behind us.

Children of the cedar forest, Koyasan

Back at the temple, it’s time for dinner. The monks at Shojoshin-in are master chefs in their own right, famed for their preparation of a vegetarian cuisine called shojin-ryori. No meat, fish, onion or garlic is used; instead the monks opt for the freshest seasonal produce.

The friendly young monk from earlier leads us to our own private dining room, past a small pond which is dotted with carefully cultivated outdoor bonsai plants. We are invited to sit on the tatami-covered floor, Japanese-style, with our dinner served on low tables before us. There is a small altar at the corner of the room decorated with a flower and a scroll.

We start with some of the clearest and naturally sweet miso soup we ever tasted; there are also simmered wild potatoes (yamo-imo) and vegetable tempura. Every red-and-black lacquer box has a new treat for us, from smooth konyaku (devil’s tongue jelly) to regional specialties like yuba (tofu skin) and koya-dofu (rehydrated freeze-dried tofu).

Who knew a meatless meal could taste so good? This is like no vegetarian food we ever had; not a single mock meat in sight. Healthy, delicious, delicately cooked and presented; it’s possibly the best dinner we have had in Japan, and we have had many. (Again, Malaysians never miss a meal if they can help it.)

Tea ceremony, Koyasan

The alarm clock goes off at 5:30am. We rise, not from our usual beds at home, but from comfortable futons rolled out on tatami mats. After our morning ablutions (a quick wash of our faces with icy cold water wakes us up good and proper), we pad softly to the main temple hall to join the monks in their dawn prayers (o-inori).

The monks are already there (they were probably up hours and hours ago), seated in their black-and-white robes when we arrive. We are the first but soon we are joined by other sleepy temple guests – two Japanese women, one elderly who sits on the benches provided, the other younger, perhaps her daughter, who rests on the floor with her legs tucked in under her; a tall Japanese man with his Caucasian girlfriend in tow (a guess on our part, since he had eyes only for her and not the monks); and an Italian family (a balding, portly man, his big-haired lady and his mama, naturally).

No one talks. The only sounds are the chanting of the sutras by the monks and the regular, rhythmic chime of cymbals. We have no idea what the chanting means, of course, but it does not matter. It’s very calming. The grey morning outside the meditation hall and the shadows within it are illuminated by the light of the candles reflecting off the golden lotus flowers. Sweet-smelling incense wafts from a burner. We feel at peace.

This is why we have come to Koyasan.

Offering prayers, Koyasan

After the meditation session, we return to the rooms where we had dinner the evening before and partake of breakfast; again it’s vegetarian fare and it’s as delicious as dinner was. Instead of the usual green tea, we have something more amber in colour and smokier in flavour. We learn later this is hōjicha, a special Japanese green tea that roasted over charcoal instead of steamed.

One final stop before leaving Koyasan: the stately Kongobuji Temple, originally constructed in 1593 and the largest temple on the mountain. We feel as though we’re walking through the passage of history as we move from room to room: First the Ohiroma Room with its beautiful gilded sliding doors (fusuma) decorated with cranes by the revered painter Kano Tanyu. Next are the Plum and Willow Rooms; the latter the scene of the ill-fated Toyotomi Hidetsugu’s ritual suicide (seppuku) as ordered by his uncle Hideyoshi, the temple founder.

We end up at the Banryutei Rock Garden, which, at 2,340 square metres, is the largest rock garden in Japan. The largest rocks used to represent a pair of dragons emerging from a sea of clouds are specially transported from Shikoku, the birthplace of Kōbō-Daishi. While it is not a traditional Zen garden, there is certainly a very Zen feeling about it – an ambience of peace and serenity.

We close our eyes and enjoy this moment, this sanctuary. We take our time to remember: the smoky notes of freshly brewed hōjicha; the tranquil fragrance of hundred-year-old cedar; the smell of incense while monks chant, welcoming another sunrise. Here memory is a good scent from a sacred mountain.

Zen rock garden, Koyasan

Kongobuji Temple
132 Koyasan, Koya-cho, Ito-gun, Wakayama Prefecture 648-0291, Japan. Tel: +81-736-56-2011. Open daily 8.30am to 5pm (entry until 4.30pm). Admission: ¥500 (RM20).

Okunoin Temple (site of the mausoleum of Kōbō-Daishi)
550 Koyasan, Koya-cho, Ito-gun, Wakayama Prefecture 648-0291, Japan. Open daily 6am to 5.30pm. Admission free.

Shojoshin-in (temple lodgings & monk’s vegetarian cuisine)
566 Koyasan, Koya-cho, Ito-gun, Wakayama Prefecture 648-0291, Japan. Tel: +81-736-56-2006. Morning ceremony 6am, breakfast 7am, dinner 5.30pm & curfew 9pm. Website: http://www.japaneseguesthouses.com/