Notes on Book Hunting
The joy of hunting for books can only be understood by those who love it. Yuan Mei once said that a book is never read unless it is borrowed. In my view, for those of us who love book hunting, a book is never bought unless it is hunted for. A wealthy buyer walks into a bookstore and, without considering the price or the capacity of his study, sweeps through in a frenzy, making quick work of it, and impetuously brings home a great pile of books.
But a thrifty book hunter like me prefers to set aside a large block of time, walk into a bookstore, and wander here and there. From the dazzling shelves I pick out a book that catches my eye, flip through it, and if I feel it suits me and the price is within my means, I hold onto it for a second selection at checkout. If I feel a book is not to my liking, I put it back and continue searching for the next target.
By hunting like this for a good half-day, I end up with quite a few favorites. Adding up the total price, it is often over budget, and then I have no choice but to part with a few books in pain. So I make a second selection before checkout; choosing and choosing, I finally decide to buy what is left. Right at the cashier I may regret again, feeling that this or that book I gave up was really one I loved. I struggle inwardly, wondering if I can cut back on some expense this month to afford the book. This struggle often lasts until I reach the front of the checkout line; when I stand there dazed and the cashier urges me on, I may grit my teeth and buy the few books I had planned to cut. Or I set a few aside on the counter to leave behind and check out the rest.
Sometimes, when I have nothing to do all day, I spend the whole day in a bookstore. I pick out a few books, find a corner, and read them properly, losing myself in the reading. Bookstores the world over are much the same: near closing time they will play a saxophone version of "Home." As soon as book hunters hear this music, they know the store is urging us to decide quickly, pay up, and leave.
I grew up in the countryside as a child; there was no bookstore in my village, and to buy books I had to walk to town, where there was a small bookstore. I did not have much money and could not afford expensive books, nor could I decide what to buy for myself, because I usually went to the bookstore with my older brother. When he set his heart on a book, he would press hard to buy it; as for the books I liked, he would criticize them and conclude they were not worth buying. In the end I usually went along with him—after all, he was three years older. Occasionally he would indulge my feelings and grant my wish. At the time I felt a bit cheated, but growing up I realized that buying books this way was actually very beneficial: with a more mature-minded brother leading me, I could read some "higher-grade" good books. Following in my brother's footsteps, I read quite a number of outstanding literary classics.
It was only when I entered junior high that I had the independent right to hunt for books on my own. By then my brother was in high school at the county seat, while I was in junior high in town. The Xinhua Bookstore in town was not far from our school, and when I had time I would go there to hunt for a few books I wanted to read. But I cannot remember how many times I went book hunting; I was too playful in junior high, spending most of my spare time at the ping-pong table—though my skills were actually poor, I was crazy about playing ping-pong.
When I started high school I gradually fell in love with book hunting. Living expenses were meager and I could not afford to buy books in bulk, so when hunting in the bookstore I always chose and chose again, and at checkout I could not help haggling with the owner to knock a few yuan off. I think the most patient shopkeepers in the world are bookstore owners; they never resent their customers for picking over the selection, and as long as it is not closing time they never rush customers to pay. Some customers wander all day without buying a single book, and they never complain.
My university years were rather miserable. With two children in college, my parents could barely cover our tuition and living expenses, so I was doubly cautious about buying books. Eating was itself a problem; most days I bought two liang of rice or one or two steamed buns at school and washed them down with free soup from the cafeteria. So when I once read the news that Xiamen University has a tradition of providing free rice to students, I nearly teared up, regretting that I had not gotten into Xiamen University—had I, I would at least not have gone hungry. But the habit of book hunting, once formed, is not easy to kick. So in those days I looked for work-study opportunities; when I earned a little money I would set aside some time to get my fix in a bookstore. Though each time I could only buy one or two relatively cheap books, it was enough to comfort my heart.
By then I had developed a discriminating eye for bookstore quality, and I chose the higher-grade ones—"grade" here is not about appearance but about how the owner positions his readership. Some small bookstore owners sell only textbooks or the most popular reading matter, such as wuxia novels and romance fiction. Other owners sell deeper, more specialized books; such stores usually gain a quiet reputation among a fixed readership. In such stores it is easier to find the books we like. The owner of a bookstore I frequented was quite cultured; the books he stocked were noticeably deeper than those in other stores. He was also gentle and refined, and when regular customers were browsing he would serve a cup of hot tea as if welcoming an old friend.
The school library compensated for my lack of money, so when I was free I liked to linger in the library, borrowing books with my library card. The school library's holdings were limited, however, and its updates could not keep pace with outside bookstores. With China's economic development over the years, I expect most universities have made great progress in this regard.
After I graduated, I found the National Library of China, a treasure trove of books with far richer holdings. When I first got my card, the new National Library building had not yet been built; what was open to the public was the old building, now converted into the National Museum of Classics. Though the library already had old computers—286 or 386, I forget which—for readers to search the catalog, I still preferred to search through the card catalog. After the new building went up, those card catalogs were gone; searching was uniformly switched to electronic, which was far more convenient, though it lost a little of the antique charm.
The National Library has not only reading rooms and stacks but also a bookstore on the premises, called the National Library Bookstore. It carries many discounted academic and literary works, and I spent a great deal of time there because its positioning and prices suited my taste. Sometimes the discounts were unbelievably deep—I could always find books at 10 or 20 percent of the list price, with quality and taste intact. I also frequented Xidan Book Building and Wangfujing Bookstore, but the National Library Bookstore was closest to me, so I hunted there most often.
Not far from the National Library, opposite the southwest gate of Zizhuyuan Park at a place called Sanhuqiao, there was a more specialized shop—the Archaeology and Humanities Bookstore—where I also hunted often. Such an obscure specialty bookstore exists only in a place like Beijing, and only a few readers like me know it is there. Often the store had only one or two customers all day, and many times I was alone reading and hunting. The books there were highly specialized and basically not discounted. But if one loves academic works in the humanities, social sciences, and archaeology, such a store is fish in water.
Occasionally, when I had business in Xidan or Wangfujing, I would drop by Xidan Book Building or Wangfujing Bookstore to hunt. Those two places have many floors, many new books, and many readers. Many people come in and stay the whole day; wherever one can sit, it is filled with people, each fully absorbed in a book. Many people come just to read and not buy; when I first came to Beijing, short on cash, I too often came just to read and not buy.
In the old days, vendors outside Xidan Book Building sold snacks; for a yuan or two you could buy a jianbing guozi, and many readers' lunch was a bottle of water and a jianbing guozi. The Book Building is a humane place; even if we were dressed shabbily, as long as our clothing and behavior were decent, we could stay inside and read and hunt to our heart's content.
Wangfujing Bookstore was the same, but I went there less often; when I went to Wangfujing, I usually spent my time in the Union Hospital Bookstore. Near Union Hospital, it is the specialty shop of the Union Publishing House, and everything it sells is medical books. Every visit there cost far more, because medical books are absurdly expensive. I remember once hunting at Union and spending over three thousand yuan at a single go, though I did not buy many books—it is just that the bulky medical tomes are ridiculously expensive.
Wangfujing Bookstore stands on the bustling Wangfujing Street, and it has far too many readers. Though Union Bookstore and Wangfujing Bookstore are close—a ten-minute walk apart—Union has far fewer people. Still, compared with the Archaeology and Humanities Bookstore, Union has more.
After buying a lot of books, one does feel the money. Twice I posted on WeChat Moments, sighing that I had set my heart on a book but it was really expensive. Right away, someone directly bought the book and gave it to me. This was a real surprise, but also understandable, because most of my friends are close relatives, dear friends, or patients, and many of them are glad to give me something. After receiving such gifts twice, I stopped posting such Moments. If I set my heart on a set of books and felt it too expensive to decide on the spot, I would add it to my wish list, waiting for it to go on sale or for a day when I felt willing to buy. Deep down I do not want others to spend money on me; besides, for a book hunter, a book bought with money scrimped from one's own meals is the book one cherishes most.
Gradually, every place in my home that could hold books was filled, and even places that could not hold books were filled. So I turned to hunting e-books. After I bought a Kindle I rarely went to bookstores, and from time to time I browsed the Kindle store to see if there was anything worth buying, just as I used to hunt in bookstores. The first Kindle I bought had limited storage; after a few hundred books I could download no more. Later I bought an extra-large Kindle and continued hunting on it.
Hunting and hunting, I gained rich experience in hunting e-books. Some books I set my heart on but did not rush to buy, because the Kindle store is always running promotions, sometimes at unbelievably low prices. A bulky set costing several hundred yuan can be had for a few dozen on sale.
Buying and reading on the Kindle is very convenient. A tiny e-reader fits in a pocket and goes wherever you go, storing tens of thousands of books. When idle and bored, flipping through it passes the time.
The books I hunted grew more numerous by the day, the books I read grew more numerous by the day, and the confusion in my heart grew less by the day. Thirty or forty years slipped by like flowing water; looking back suddenly, I found I had made no small number of friends in books. Thanks to this little hobby, my life is anything but lonely.