1.        The Exodus of New Bookshops 

        In the 1960s and early 1970s, book lovers frequented bookshops scattered around the North Bridge Road area. The late 1970s and 1980s saw the emergence of book superstores, with “Bras Basah Complex” becoming a favorite destination. The late 1990s witnessed a fascinating shift: on one hand, the rise of book giants like “Books Kinokuniya” and “Borders,” and on the other, the emergence of independent bookstores. While the former, like branded goods, glittered in the bustling Orchard Road, the latter, like Tao Yuanming's “picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence,” sought refuge from the clamor, finding solace in secluded corners. 

        Many new bookshops chose not to open in Book City, not because there was no space available, but as a statement, a display of individuality, an attempt to break free from traditional market and operational models. 

2.      Zhang Ailing is Fashionable, Lu Xun is Approachable 

        This shift in location can be seen as a form of expansion. Operating concepts have also changed, and the book industry has embarked on new explorations and practices. In the past, we went to specific bookshops for specific needs: “Commercial Press” for Chinese books, “Friendly Union” for Taiwan editions, and “Grassroots” for academic works. Bookshops had clear functions, and their division of labor was distinct, like a clearly defined battleground. 

        But with the arrival of “Kinokuniya” and “Borders,” the pleasure for book lovers went beyond just reading. The act of buying books itself became a lifestyle. Browsing through bookshops with carefully curated decor, atmosphere, and lighting, listening to specially selected light music, the elegance of Zhang Ailing's cheongsam became a fashion statement, while Lu Xun's furrowed brow softened into a friendly expression.         

        The emergence of “Kinokuniya” meant that we no longer had to go to “Times” or “MPH” for English books. “Under one roof,” we had it all. The rise of “Kinokuniya” perhaps reflects a shift in our lifestyles, consumption habits, and values. With growing affluence, book giant-style stores offer a one-stop selection, saving us time. We are no longer averse to paying a premium for the pleasure of buying books. We appreciate the services provided by bookshops and recognize that service can be a valuable form of consumption. 

3.        Personalized and Indivitualistic

      

          “Grassroots,” “Banjian "（半间） and “Long River” embrace individuality, focusing on personalized services. “Grassroots” displays a wide range of high-level philosophical books. From their discussions on obscure poetry and LGBT literature, one can see the bookshop's intellectual aura and its blend of avant-garde and traditional sensibilities. 

       At “Banjian” we encounter a different operating philosophy. “President” Hong Baozhen （洪保镇）says, “Beyond selling books, we hope to sell reading. McDonald's sells you bread, but the manager doesn't really care if you eat it or not. He's only concerned with sales figures. So, if a customer buys a burger, replaces it with a Hello Kitty, and then throws it away, the owner doesn't really mind. 'Banjian' does sell books, but we care more about your reading. That's why we sell membership cards, reading cards, and have a system for borrowing and returning books to remind you to read amidst your busy life.” 

4.        “Grassroots” is Aloof, 

“Banjian” Embraces Humanistic Buddhism 

        Both “Grassroots” and “Banjian” are unique, personalized bookshops, but they have different directions and practices. 

             “Grassroots” carries less mainstream authors. “Banjian” claims to offer 200 Taiwanese magazines. 

        “Grassroots” sells books. “Half a Room” promotes reading. 

        “Grassroots” is worldly and aloof. “Banjian” has a grounded, peaceful, humanistic Buddhist feel. 

        “Grassroots” offers a ladder for readers to climb to new heights of knowledge. I'm unlikely to become a self-righteous monk at “Banjian”. But that's alright. “Banjian” broadens my horizons; I might become a polymath, a charismatic Toastmaster.    

        I visit “Grassroots” for continuous self-improvement. “Banjian” is more about relaxation and casual browsing, which often leads to unexpected discoveries. 

        “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” hadn't premiered locally yet, but I already found a wealth of information in the film magazine “Look.” Ang Lee said, “I've always wanted to make a martial arts film with a humanistic, dramatic feel. 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' is unconventional, incorporating the social customs and culture of ancient China... The novel depicts a fantasy world, a longing for classical China. I want to bring together Chinese people, showcasing a collective strength.” This spirit extends to the film's artistic practice, and I understand the depth of the director's cross-cultural casting choices. From Chow Yun-fat, Michelle Yeoh, Zhang Ziyi, and Chang Chen on screen to Yo-Yo Ma, Tan Dun, and Ai Ping behind the scenes, regardless of the film's eventual success, this “performance art” itself is impressive. 

        Reading Kevin Bacon's diary in “The Invisible Man,” I discover, “Actors all start as waiters. We spend most of our lives waiting.” The all-powerful, invisible man on screen is actually making fun of his own behind-the-scenes struggles. 

        Reading film magazines provides a profound, contemporary perspective. This reading experience began for me at “Half a Room.” 

5.      Same Bookshops, Different Alternatives 

        I hope I haven't given you the impression that “Banjian” is as crass as pop music. 

        While listening to Taiwanese campus music, I came across these words: 

         “Egyptian statues are frozen in death, awaiting resurrection. Greek sculptures depict the state of being alive. Greeks, it seems, did not yearn for the afterlife, nor did they hope for an uncertain future. They instead believed in the meaning of living life to the fullest. 

        Egyptian tombstones are prayers for resurrection. Chinese tombstones often commemorate achievements and virtues. Indian stupas serve as reminders of impermanence. Only Greek tombstones leave behind the beauty of the body, inspiring admiration and longing.” 

       These are the reflections of Taiwanese scholar Jiang Xun on Greek sculpture, taken from “The Awakening of the Body.” 

        “Banjian”, besides offering trendy computer and film magazines, also has other publications...… 

         “Photographer” featured Zhang Qianqi's thematic photography series “Chain.” The work captures the emotional chains that bind patients at Longfa Tang, a mental health institution, together. The photographer acutely observes the unique relationships between each pair of patients, relationships that change daily. 

        In “Humanity,” I followed the struggles of Fu Boning, a single father, as he navigates conflict and finds understanding with his son. It was heartwarming. 

        You might say that you can find the same magazines and read the same content elsewhere, that you don't need “Half a Room.” But the beauty of “Half a Room” lies in the juxtaposition of diverse content, themes, types, and styles, all coexisting in one space, creating new possibilities for reading, sparking connections, and fostering collisions. 

        “Banjian” reflects a different kind of avant-garde, a different kind of alternative. 

6.       “Banjian,” Why “Half a Room”? 

        “Banjian”, why “Half a Room”? Literally, we can trace it back to the initial setup, with the first half being the bookshop and the second half the office. But I don't know why, I feel like this is an overly simplistic interpretation. 

        I asked “President” Hong Baozhen for confirmation, and he said, “Banjian' actually refers to half of it being the entrepreneur's vision and the other half being shaped by the members.” 

        Since “Half a Room” is about reading, with the membership system in place, the bookseller can't just order books they like. The reading preferences of the members, their backgrounds, and their proportions all influence book purchases. Members also shape the bookshop's personality. Compared to the traditional model, is there a subtle change in the relationship between bookseller and reader, and between reader and reader, gradually forming a new dynamic? This reminds me of country clubs and the concept of time-sharing vacation homes. It also echoes the spirit of the internet: “I don't hoard, I share resources.” Books are not personal possessions; they have greater value when they circulate. 

        I realize I have entered a new era of reading. 

7.        Looking Back, The Era of Reading 

        On a Sunday afternoon, I spent a quiet afternoon reading in “Half a Room.” The cramped space holds a vast world of reading. I emerged from this world of books, my mind in a haze, as fine rain fell. I looked up, and Book City was across the street. 

        In the rain, the building looked a bit dim, aged, and forlorn. As a middle-aged Singaporean, I have many childhood memories of the small bookshops around North Bridge Road and Book City. In a moment of reverie, I saw a young boy, cradling several books, braving the rain, walking from one shop to another: “Zhonghua,” “Shanghai”, “Commercial Press”, “Xinhua”, “Gujin”, “Youth”, “Popular”...… 

        In those days, people could get wet in the rain, but books couldn't. That pale, thin figure, so familiar yet so distant.……

        New ideas bring new reading pleasures. The new century has quickened my pace. I move forward, never stopping, never standing still, from “Kinokuniya” and “Borders” to “Grassroots”, “Long River”, and “Banjian”……