Excerpt from Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop
BY HWANG BO-REUM (TRANSLATED BY SHANNA TAN)
A man was loitering outside the bookshop. Stooping slightly, he shaded his eyes and peered through the window. He’d mistaken the opening time and come too early. As she walked towards the bookshop, Yeongju recognised the man from behind. He was a regular customer who would drop by two or three evenings a week, always in a business suit.
‘Hello.’
Startled, the man turned his head sharply. At the sight of Yeongju, he quickly lowered his hands and straightened up, grinning sheepishly.
‘I usually come in the evenings. First time I’m here at this time,’ he said. Yeongju smiled at him.
‘Well, not sure about other things, but I’m definitely envious that you start work at lunchtime,’ he quipped.
She laughed. ‘I get that a lot.’
At the beeps of the passcode being punched on the keypad, the man looked away and turned back only at the click of the door. His face relaxed upon glimpsing the interior through the crack.
Pushing the door wide open, she turned to him.
‘It’s going to smell a little – of the night air and books. If you don’t mind, you’re welcome inside.’ The man stepped back, waving his palms. ‘No, no. I’m good. I’d hate to bother you, especially outside business hours. I’ll come by again.
Yeongju stood by the door and watched his retreating figure before turning into the bookshop. The moment she stepped inside, she relaxed, as if her body and senses basked in the comfort of returning to her workplace. In the past, she used to live by mantras like passion and willpower, as if by imprinting the words on her mind, they would somehow breathe meaning into her life. Then one day she realised it felt like she was driving herself into a corner, and she resolved never to let those words dictate her life again. Instead, she learnt to listen to her body, her feelings, and be in happy places. She would ask herself these questions: does this place make me feel positive? Can I be truly whole and uncompromisingly myself? Do I love and treasure myself here? For Yeongju, the bookshop checked all the boxes.
It was a sweltering day, but before she could turn on the air-con, she needed to expel the stale air of yesterday and let fresh air in. When will I escape from the past, or is that a futile task? An unbreakable habit, the negativity reared its ugly head to drag her down, but she quickly pushed back with happier thoughts.
Warm humid air rushed in as she opened the windows one by one. Fanning herself with a hand, she surveyed the bookshop. Questions swirled in her mind. If this were her first visit, would she have faith in the staff ’s recommendations? How does a bookshop earn trust? What makes a good bookshop?
The wall of novels in the bookshop was her way of coming full circle to fulfil her childhood dream. In elementary school, little Yeongju pestered her dad to line all four walls in her room with storybooks. Each time, her dad would admonish her, saying that it wouldn’t do for her to be so greedy – even when it came to books. She knew he wasn’t angry and was just trying to break her habit of throwing tantrums to get what she wanted. But still, she would burst into tears at his stern demeanor and later, tired from crying, she would curl up and fall asleep in his embrace.
Shifting her weight away from the bookcase she’d been leaning against, Yeongju walked to the windows and closed them one by one, starting as usual from the rightmost. With the last window firmly shut, she switched on the air-con and put on her favorite album – Keane’s Hopes and Fears. The album was released back in 2004, but she had only discovered the British band last year. It was love at first listen. Since then, she put it on almost every day. The languid and dreamy voice filled the air as a new day at Hyunam-dong Bookshop began.
Next to the counter, Yeongju sat down at her desk and checked her inbox for new online orders. The next thing to do was to run through the to-do list she’d prepared the night before. It was a habit from high school that carried well over to her adult life: to write down the tasks she needed to do the following day, starting with the most important one. Years later, she still maintained the habit, albeit with a different purpose. Her younger self had wanted to rule her day with an iron fist; now, Yeongju soothed herself with the lists. Running through the tasks she needed to work on gave her confidence that it would be another day well spent.
For the first few months after the bookshop’s opening, she’d completely forgotten about lists and long-time habits. Each day passed by in a blur of struggles, as if time had slammed to a halt. Before she started the bookshop, it’d been even worse, as if something was siphoning her soul away. Or maybe it was more accurate to say she was not herself at all.
There was only one thing on her mind.
I must open a bookshop.
Clinging to the thought, she forcibly drove everything else out of her mind. Luckily, she was the type to hold herself together if she had something to focus on. It was the anchor she needed. She plunged headlong into the process. She settled on a location, found a suitable property; busied herself with the fittings and furnishings and bought in the stock. In between everything, she even got herself certified as a barista.
This was how Hyunam-dong Bookshop, nestled in the residential neighborhood of the same name, came to be. In the beginning, she left the front door open and did nothing else. People walking by strolled in, drawn by the seemingly gentle atmosphere. But in fact, the bookshop was like a wounded beast, wheezing feebly. The footfall soon trickled to a drop. It was the sight of Yeongju sitting on a chair, her face so ashen you’d wonder if she still had a drop of blood in her: stepping into the bookshop was like an intrusion of her private space. She welcomed everyone with a smile, but none of them returned it.
For the first few months, Yeongju had cried her heart out. She let the tears flow, but if customers walked in on her crying, she would dab her eyes dry and greet them as if nothing had happened. Nobody said anything about her tear-stained face. Nobody asked why she cried; they simply assumed there was a reason. Yeongju knew very well why she was crying. For a long time – perhaps her whole life – it would cast a shadow over her, making her cry.
Nothing had changed. The reason, stuck in the past, remained as it was. But one day, Yeongju realized that the tears had stopped. That moment – knowing that it was okay to stop crying – felt as if a heavy rock was lifted from her heart. The days of listlessly sitting in her chair dwindled as each morning felt a little more hopeful than the last. She didn’t have enough energy yet to do more for the bookshop, but she started reading voraciously again.
It was as if she was back to the days of reading from morning to night, giggling as she piled on more books to the stack, scrunching up her face in concentration as she leafed through the pages. She was back to being little Yeongju, who turned a deaf ear to her mother’s nagging as she read through mealtimes; back to basking in the joy of reading even as her eyes protested. If I can experience that happiness once more, perhaps I’ll be able to start afresh, she thought.
Up till middle school, Yeongju had been an avid reader. Her parents, both perpetually busy, left her alone reading in a corner at home. Once she devoured all the books in her collection, she turned to the library. She loved books. Novels were her favourite, bringing her on expeditions across lands and seas in the comfort of her home. When she had to pull herself back to reality – cutting a sweet dream short – her heart sank. But she needn’t feel sad for long. She only had to open the book to dive right into the adventures again.
Reading in the empty bookshop brought back memories of her childhood and she smiled. It occurred to her, as she rubbed her dry eyes with her palms, that she was past the age for a reading marathon. She blinked several times before returning to the page. As if trying her best to mend a broken friendship from her childhood, she immersed herself into the books, day and night, never leaving their side. It didn’t take long for their treasured relationship to rekindle. The books welcomed her back with open arms without judging the person she’d become, and accepted her for who she was. Like a well-nourished person who ate three good meals a day, she grew stronger. One day, lifting her head from the pages, she found herself looking at the bookshop with clearer eyes and a sharper mind.
I need to do better than this.
Yeongju sought out book recommendations and worked hard to fill the half-empty shelves. For each book she read, she penned down her thoughts on memo paper which she wedged between the pages. The ones she hadn’t read, she would put together the opinions of literary critics, book reviewers and readers she found online. When customers asked for an unfamiliar title, she made sure to look it up. All this she didn’t do for the profits; her priority was to create a bookshop that looked and felt like one. Gradually, her efforts paid off. Residents nearby stopped throwing doubtful looks at the bookshop; the astute ones even noticed the changes. Each time they walked in, the bookshop seemed a little warmer, a little more inviting, casting a magnetic charm on passers-by. The biggest change was Yeongju. The bookshop lady who had flustered customers with her tearstained face was no more.
The bookshop began seeing visitors from further neighborhoods.
There wasn’t much to do when she couldn’t be bothered, but once she started to care, the work was never-ending. From the time she punched in the passcode till she locked up for the day, her hands and feet never had an idle moment. When her limbs almost tied themselves into a knot as she bounced between the bookshop and the coffee orders piling up, she decided it was time to get some help. She put up hiring notices in the neighborhood for a barista. Minjun walked in the very next day. The same day, after she had a sip of his coffee, she took down the notices. He started work the following day, around the first anniversary of the bookshop.
Since then, another year had passed. Minjun was set to arrive in five minutes. As usual, over a cup of his coffee, she would immerse herself in a novel until one o’clock, when the bookshop was ready to welcome its customers.
