Maximum City. Minimum bookstores

Representational Image. Pic/Pixabay

It's ironic that this columnist had to borrow from Suketu Mehta's bestselling title to drive home a reality about literature's havens in the same city in which the book is set. The state of our bookstores - that impactful sanctuary for bibliophiles, [or even those who have bibliosmia] - came back to remind us of a certain reality. A recent development shared on social media by an indie bookseller [who else would, right?] in India, revealed that the Japanese government was keen to support their local bookstores. The Japan Times stated that, and I quote: ‘…the central government has taken notice, with the trade ministry establishing a team to promote local bookshops'.

As if this didn't act as an eye-opener that reflects the seriousness of a nation to protect its bookstores, its trade minister added in the same announcement that ‘A bookstore is a place where someone can browse a list of books of all genres.' That enlightened minister concluded by saying that such establishments had an advantage over the Internet, and other media in terms of broadening people's horizons. The last three words hit home hard.

What have our local, state and central governments done to support bookstores? We cannot recall any major announcement in the recent or distant past. I am not equipped to discuss numbers in rural areas but as far as our metros go, it's almost always been hard-core bibliophiles who have kept the flag flying high. Private stakeholders and booklovers with adequate funding remain the keepers to nourish the habit of reading in physical spaces. In fact, Delhi, Bengaluru, Kolkata and Chennai are ahead of Mumbai when it comes to a robust local bookstore culture. I've experienced this first-hand. With Mumbai, the numbers are far and few, for a city this large. Ideally, every major suburb or ward should have their own bookstore. That is far, far from reality. While many are clustered in SoBo and the western suburbs of Bandra to Juhu, the rest of the city doesn't fare too well when it comes to indie bookstores. Sure, there are the odd ‘circulating' or ‘lending' library [dare I say how many of GenNext have even heard of these terms] tucked away in corners of the city but as soon as you strike up a conversation with its owners, most of their stories are about the challenges of staying afloat in an internet-reliant society.

In this not-so-happy scenario, what chance are we giving this generation and surely the coming ones to be introduced to the physical bookstore? Frankly, none. They are already growing up in a world where on the one hand, teens are able to rattle off names of the latest phones, or stores offering the latest global gizmos but on the other, ask them to name the nearest bookstore or library, and chances of them drawing a blank are a certainty. That leaves parents at home and schools, with their libraries, to play their parts. So, while those two elements can be controlled and developed, the third wheel - the bookstore - cannot, given the economics of running them.

In all probability, we assume that the Japanese government has identified the criticality of their existence as not just a space to buy books, but also as the statement revealed: a place to broaden people's horizons. To drive home that point, I encourage each of you to visit a bookstore in the coming week, and spend some time there; half an hour, tops. The feeling of browsing through endless shelves--irrespective of whether you're planning to buy a title or not--is an immersive and enlightening experience. Music nerds will recall the same vibe back in the day when record stores like Rhythm House existed. Chances are, you'll bump into likeminded folks, or long-lost friends, which almost always is the case with this columnist.

Words cannot fully articulate the contribution of bookstores for personal and societal growth in general, and while this column might come across as a romanticised ode to the local bookstore, these are challenging times. It is left to bookstore owners and by default, their patrons to sustain such spaces. Several such establishments bore the brunt during the pandemic, and never reopened. While others became mutated versions of their core identity. In Japan's case, a team has been set up to study the issues that plague bookstores. Surely, those bookstore owners must feel that there is light at the end of the tunnel; that this is happening in one of the world's most digitised economies is an encouraging sign that one side of the spectrum shouldn't suffer at the cost of another.

Whether or not our local bookstores will get a leg-up from the powers that be in the future, is anyone's guess but we must be hopeful that the reading habit and bookstores expands in our city where more invested folk see merit in developing reading communities. Mumbai can surely do better, and take a lesson or two from the Japanese.

Little wonder that the term ‘tsundoku' is a Japanese one to explain the phenomenon of hoarding, or piling up books.

mid-day's Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city's sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her. She tweets @bombayana
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