When the university opened a literature club, it used to be a reading and cultural festival at the school, and I found these bookstores to sell books on campus. Ask the school to borrow the exhibition hall in the library as a place to sell books. A large group of members carried wooden boxes, pulled hemp rope, and put up picture frames together, and arranged them all night, as if they were opening a bookstore. Later, the entire vehicle and the entire vehicle of books arrived and were neatly arranged. During that week, students passing by the library would always come in and have a look. Even if they don’t buy books, many people often sit on small plastic benches and smell the scent of books. There are also many message notes posted on the wooden box, saying that they love this place. At that time, I deeply felt what a wonderful thing to open a bookstore.
The shopping guide at the Pioneer Bookstore that I met during the Reading Culture Festival was also a lovely person. High school education, but full of poetry and books. He introduced me to Mu Xin, Lamb and Carver, and we sat on a small bench and chatted as we did before that week. He complained about Qian Xiaohua's stubbornness and dictatorship, and described the beauty of Guangzhou and Hong Kong bookstores to me. I haven't contacted him for a long time. I don't know if he is still in Vanguard. I have a chance to visit him again and talk to him.
I went to Hong Kong a few days ago and made a special trip to read a bookstore. The bookstore on the second floor in Mong Kok has a small space and a messy bibliography. Outside the airless space, there are crowds of shopping in Mong Kok like a tide. In the Kubrick Bookstore in Yau Ma Tei, I still feel a little bit. In the same small space, some people are lectures, some are drinking coffee, and some are quietly reading. It's a pity that the Qing Bookstore is no longer there, but Lu Chi, holding the map, can't even find its old site. It's just that every time I think of Luo Zhihua's experience, I can't help but feel sad.
There are many lovely bookstores in this world. They are also like Blake, with weird personalities, but each bears persistence and dreams, shining in this vulgar world. For example, City Lights in the United States, Shakespeare in France, and 84 Charing Cross Road in the United Kingdom. I only hate myself for being incompetent and unable to go, so I have to appreciate the stories of these bookstores in the books. Reading Ginsburg’s peerless speech in the city lights described in the book, Hemingway drove the jeep to liberate Shakespeare’s majesty, exchanges with the moving letters of Charing Cross Road; in his heart there is the warmth born of trusting in the simple goodness of the world. Many times, the city becomes beautiful because of the small bookstores in these corners.
However, in the city where I live now, large chain bookstores are raging. They occupy powerful social resources and only sell some boring books. In such a bookstore, there is never a bibliography with independent thinking, but bibliographies such as "How to Maintain Interpersonal Relations", "Currency War", and "Guide to Civil Service Examinations" are placed in a prominent position. In those bookstores, you ask the shopping guide to find a book, and he will look it up by computer index. Sometimes he will ask you without shame: How did Zweig's "Zweig" write it?
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