There Were Not Many Books

How many times have I been to the Bookworm?  A more apt question certainly, how many times have I purchased books from the Bookworm?  Germane as this wonderful Beijing institution is closing its doors.   My buddy who is new to town suggested, on our way over, that there were slim pickings the last time he’d gone.  This sounded off.  And when we arrived this time, on a Thursday evening, it was characteristically packed.  The same smiley-faced guy was behind the bar, but the walls were tragically denuded.  There were not many books to be seen on the shelves at the Bookworm.

I wanted to get my friend’s rather well-read son, who is here in town visiting, a novel by Mo Yan.  Like most people had never read any Chinese authors.  I was about ninety percent sure of the title in Chinese and asked two ladies unpacking things behind the book shelf if they had a copy of “Jiu Guo.”  I’d read “Wine Country” fifteen years ago, long before he’d ever won the Noble Prize for Literature and found the story of baby-eating Party-madness in Shandong wonderfully unsettling and evocative. 

Bookworm’s closing up.  “We’re getting rid of all our books.  We need to move”.  Thud.  There are few other foreign launched establishments in the heart of San Li Tun’s  outrageous development to still have such a precious spot, with an outdoor garden and performance venues, enough shelf space for used and current titles. The book worm always really felt more like a home, something to eclectic with the list of famous authors names painted on to the steps up into.  Too unique be franchise-able.  A living bookstore in the heart of Beijing.   

A flood of memories, suddenly, staring around thinking of all the countless people I’ve met here or saw perform here.  There wasn’t much point in staying.  It’s time for me to head home.  They were off to Page One, the international book chain, up the road.

Thursday, 11/07/19