Judging a City by Its Bookstore
In Phnom Penh, a Japanese bookseller gave me surprising insight into Cambodian culture.
When judging the livability of new cities and towns, everyone takes a different approach. Weather? Walkability? Expat community? We all have our own priorities and pet peeves.
When I want to peer into the soul of a city, I visit its best bookstore because it usually tells me something about the people who live there. What are their interests? Are they sophisticated and thoughtful? Lowbrow and shallow? Readers or movie-watchers?
Unfortunately for me, the town where I reside is one of the most literature-challenged places I’ve ever lived. The local Asia Books outlet in Pattaya lines its shelves with vapid crime thrillers, trite spy sagas, and sickly sweet romance crappola. I feel like the outlier reading modern literature, philosophy, and biographies.
Several weeks ago, I was in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and set out to gauge the city’s cultural temperature by visiting the local bookshop at Aeon Mall, specifically Tsutaya Bookstore. As soon as I broke the plane of the front door, the left side of my brain let out a satisfying sigh. “Ahhhh,” and my inner voice whispered, “A real bookstore”.
This branch of the Japanese bookseller franchise is clean, well-organized, and cool. There is no NY Times Best-Seller display clamouring for your attention as you walk in. Genres are clearly marked with books organized alphabetically by the author’s last name. “Best Sellers”, “New Arrivals”, and “Rare Gems” are subtly displayed within their respective sections.
What immediately caught my attention was the collection of “Featured Works” that changes its theme monthly near the entrance of the shop. In June, the focus was on Japanese authors translated into English. I snatched up Men Without Women, a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami that I had never seen before, and perused a half dozen other tempting novels.
Next, I was thrilled to stumble upon Annihilation, the last novel written by Michel Houellebecq, a controversial French nihilist. I’d been looking for this book for two years, and there it was, appropriately displayed in the philosophy section. By the time I found the graphic novel repository at the back of the shop, I realized that I’d already been there two hours and would probably need to plan a return trip later in the week.
While I was paying for my books, I noticed five full shelves of classic American and British literature near the checkout register—works by authors such as Mark Twain, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, and Harper Lee, among others. When I asked the young woman at the counter why they had so much classic English language literature on display, she said, “We are required to read them in school. If you attend a reputable university in Cambodia, many of the classes are taught in English. We learn to read English before we have the courage to speak it. And it’s the best way to improve our vocabulary.” I was duly impressed.
Heading back to my hotel, it occurred to me that Phnom Penh may be a hot and sweaty mess of a city, but my afternoon at Tsutaya Bookstore revealed that I’d probably get along with the people there just fine.
— Bart Walters, IL Thailand Correspondent
Editor’s note: Wondering what day-to-day life in Cambodia really feels like? The White Mansion offers just one glimpse of Phnom Penh’s layered story. For the full perspective, IL correspondent Bart takes you deeper in his report, Back to the Future in Southeast Asia.
Inside, you’ll discover:
How Phnom Penh balances its historic past with rapid modernization
What expats can realistically expect when it comes to cost of living and lifestyle
Why Cambodia is emerging as a destination for adventurous retirees and remote workers
First-hand stories from Bart’s travels and conversations with locals and expats
I can vouch for the bookstore method. A friend of mine did a study like that, then decided to open up his own bookstore. It thrived for 20 years, until one of his customers came in and decided she wanted to buy the store from him.