Finding Hope in the Fissures
Hong Kong’s independent bookstores search for resilience in a fragmenting and repressive environment.
By Leung Ka Lai - Photon Media
The first in our series on book publishing in the global Sinosphere, this story was written in cooperation with Photon Media, a Taipei-based independent news outlet launched by former Apple Daily and Stand News reporters from Hong Kong. Read the original in Chinese here.
Writers, publishers, and booksellers from Hong Kong punched well above their weight at March’s Taipei International Book Exhibition (TIBE). A third of the works that won laurels at the biggest bookfair in Asia came from the pens of Hongkongers, and, in addition to the city’s biggest commercial and university presses, no fewer than 17 independent publishers and bookstores from Hong Kong also made the trip over.
All of them were in the Taiwanese capital to sell books, but not just that — it was also about selling hope in between the cracks of a daunting and impermeable new edifice that has settled upon their hometown in the past few years.
All of those present, from publishers and bookstore owners to those anxiously observing the fate of the city’s independent bookshops, told us they felt there was no hope and no future for their trade — but that this sense of loss was also giving rise to a new form of resilience unique to these trying times.
Like their outsized showing at the Taipei bookfair, our conversations with these publishing professionals serve both as an indictment of the troubling state of Hong Kong’s freedoms and a testament to the spirit of those still trying to promote and defend independent cultural expression amid the city’s authoritarian turn.
A Unique Style Born of Distress
In the past, publishing house Bbluesky (藍藍的天) mainly produced children’s books. But among the four books publishing editor Leslie Ng (伍自禎) brought to TIBE this year, there were some noticeably more grown-up themes.
One was Prisoner in the Word: The Light Comes at Dawn (字𥚃囚間：明就明唔明就黎明) by Shiu Ka-chun (邵家臻), a social worker and activist who played a leading role in Hong Kong’s 2014 Umbrella Movement. Two years after the protest movement, which sought — unsuccessfully — open elections for the city’s leadership open to ordinary Hongkongers, Shiu won a seat the territory’s unicameral legislature, the Legislative Council, representing the social welfare functional constituency. In 2020, though, he resigned in protest after the central government unseated four elected legislators. By that point, Shiu had already spent eight months in prison for public nuisance convictions stemming from his involvement in the 2014 protests.
A second book was The Collected Works of Allen Au: 2,047 Nights (區家麟作品集：二千零四十七夜), in which veteran journalist Allan Au (區家麟) explores the changing nature of the act of writing in Hong Kong. Political sensitivities in the city, he writes, have given rise to what he calls “morning text” (早晨體), a clipped and ambiguous form of writing that, like the “good morning” greetings (早晨文) shared over mobile messaging apps, effectively communicates a mood without detailed or direct discussion.
Both Prisoner in the Word and The Collected Works of Allen Au were published only this year, and Ng says was overjoyed to find that they were received enthusiastically by Taiwanese readers.
Another Bbluesky publication he brought to Taipei, a reprint of Allen Au’s 2012 travelogue Tide Pools: Wanderings in 20 Countries (潮池：浪遊二十國度的故事) had been pulled from the shelves at the Hong Kong Book Fair two years earlier. The reason, Leslie says, was not sensitivities around the book’s subject matter but simply the author’s identity. Au, who previously worked as a radio host for public broadcaster RTHK and a senior producer at pro-government station TVB News, was arrested by national security police in 2022 for allegedly conspiring to publish seditious materials. While the presumption of innocence still exists on paper in Hong Kong, the tightly controlled nature of national security cases means that an arrest alone is enough to pin a scarlet letter on one’s name.
That even books about travel cannot escape political sensitivities, Ng says, shows that, in the current environment, Hong Kong writers will not even touch controversial topics, much less cross red lines. “Things won’t be written directly,” he observes. “If it's clear, it will be clear.”
A special new form of writing has emerged out of these conditions, says Ng. “It is exemplified,” he says, “by Allen Au’s ‘morning text’ and Shiu Ka-chun’s, ‘If it’s clear it’s clear — if it’s not understood it shines like the dawn’ (明就明唔明就黎明).”
In the current environment, Hong Kong writers will not even touch controversial topics, much less cross red lines.
When Ng spoke with Photon Media in late February, the legislation of Hong Kong’s strict new national security law, known as Article 23, was already imminent. Ng felt then that the legislation would most definitely have an impact on writers. “The space will narrow even further — not just in practical terms, but also psychologically,” he said. “Writers will have to consider whether they are violating the law or not in every sentence; and, as a writer, you will compress yourself more and more."
With writers sure to be impacted, and publishers unable to escape the implications, is freedom of the press about to disappear entirely in Hong Kong? Ng puts it bluntly: "We don't need to talk about the future. In fact, it has already disappeared. Compared to the publishing industry four or five years ago, there is no freedom of the press now, and the remaining books that can be published are all very mild.”
Many writers now steer clear of any direct social criticism. But no one can say for sure which supposedly non-controversial books, like Allen Au’s travelogue, will run into trouble nonetheless. "If the environment continues to change, or if it continues to narrow this way in the future,” says Ng, “before long it will become a question of, ‘Aren’t all of these books illegal?’”
Before that time comes, he says, he has made a conscious choice to publish books by writers who are regarded as "sensitive" — because he believes that, as long as there is no problem with the contents of the book, these writings should be published without worrying excesively about whether it will be banned or might violate the law.
As an independent publisher, Ng knows he is walking on thin ice. But he feels that, in recent years, the industry has changed from a dynamic of commercial competition to one of mutual help, cooperation, and support. At the same time, there has also been a rare boom in the trade: "We all appreciate each other's enthusiasm, and now we are all heading in the same direction. We are all just trying to get through this."
After more than 20 years in the publishing industry, this is the first time Ng says he has felt this. Although he believes the future of Hong Kong's publishing industry is bleak, he is not entirely pessimistic. "We have to appreciate those who have not given up despite the limited space available,” he says.
As an independent publisher, he knows he is walking on thin ice.
Another independent publisher at TIBE, Tip Publishing (毫末書社), is even smaller than Bbluesky — it is an operation of just one. Its editor-in-chief writes books under the pen name “Silent Spring” (默泉) and translates classic works of literature. While she has only been able to work in the publishing business full-time for the past six years, she sees it as her life’s work.
Silent Spring brought over her work Notes from the Ruins (廢墟筆記), Chow Sung Ming’s Resistopia: Four Human Futures Under the Smart Revolution (敵托邦: 智能革命下的四種人類未來), and several other volumes. She says, laughing, that selling 10 books already could be considered a success — just being there to promote the books she’s published meant more than making sales.
Lately, she has focused on translating classics like Henry David Thoreau’s On the Duty of Civil Disobedience. Printed on its cover, jus under the title, the vague attribution given to Tip Publishing’s English-to-Chinese translator is a sobering reminder of the risks involved even in the printing of this 19th-century essay: “Translated by someone who remains [in Hong Kong],” it reads, protecting the transaltor’s identity and, implicitly, explaining why it needs protecting.
As long as she, too, remains in Hong Kong, Silent Spring feels that she must continue to be a force for cultural development. “If there is a gap that needs to be filled, this is something you can do,” she says, referring to the translation of literary classics.
How much can a publishing house of one do? Tip Publishing, she feels, has from the very beginning been on the edge — both within the industry itself and culturally. “It’s like doing a bit of mending, nothing major,” she says. “It’s a personal aspiration — the hope of finding a sense of groundedness within these books.”
Finding a sense of groundedness might mean finding a sense of peace first. But this, too, is proving a pervasive challenge for those remaining in Hong Kong. “The state of the publishing industry is horrible, but it’s not just limitations on topics,” she says. “Since the pandemic, the demand for books among Hong Kongers has gone down — because people have lost the sense of peace needed to sit down and read.”
While it is no longer possible to write directly on social topics, she feels that the subject matter of books should still cleave closely to present realities. Changes in the political environment have demanded different approaches to accomplish this. “It is still meaningful to do what is permitted,” she says, “but this does not necessarily mean direct social commentary.”
Mysterious Complaints
If independent publishers face an uncertain future, so do independent bookstores. The fates of the two are intertwined.
Amber is the manager and co-owner of Boundary Bookstore (界限書店), having taken over the business last year. She says that while people have become more aware of the importance of independent bookstores, waves of migration away from Hong Kong has meant a drop in the number of people buying books. Between 2020 and 2023, Hong Kong’s workforce dropped by around 200,000, while tens of thousands of children left the city’s schools.
“Many of the people emigrating have been habitual readers,” Amber says. And while Hong Kong’s population increased slightly last year, the overwhelming majority of new residents have came from mainland China, where restrictions on moving to Hong Kong have been eased to encourage migration. For bookstores and publishers testing the legal boundaries to preserve local culture and hopes for democratic development, these new arrivals may not be their most natural target audience.
But while this demographic change has been one important reason for the bookselling business's downturn, Amber says that a more important factor may be the poor economic situation in Hong Kong, says Amber. "The economy is so bad that people don't want to spend money on books, and if they do have money, they'd rather save it up for things like travel, so the consumer outlook is bad,” she says.
Since she took the reigns of Boundary, Amber has come to realize that the job takes a great deal of courage, as well as personal effort. The bookstore’s publishing manager and co-owner, Leanne, says with a chuckle that while things are difficult, she still believes getting into the business was “not a bad decision.”
Recent inspections of independent bookshops by government departments have added to the woes. On several occasions, said Amber, the Food and Environmental Hygiene Department (FEHD) — which also handles permits for public events in Hong Kong, but has sometimes come down hard on private publishing events — has sent people to inspect the bookstore. “There are certain people who lodge complaints about our activities just to interfere with us, but this is something we can't concern ourselves with too much as it’s out of our control,” says Amber.
Leanne, who was present for one of these visits, nods. "We’re seeing a regular pattern of people making complaints whenever there’s a full house at our events,” she says. “And if our activity is related to books that are considered sensitive, they will also make complaints.”
Boundary is not the only business to have noticed this pattern. Popular independent bookstore Mount Zero (見山書店) blamed pressure from “weekly visits” by various government departments when it closed its doors earlier this month. These, too, were prompted by a constant string of “mysterious complaints” lodged against the bookstore.
Faced with difficulties beyond their control, Amber and Leanne feel they can only do their utmost to push ahead. "We do our best, and even though staying alive is exhausting, laziness isn’t an option,” says Leanne. Coming to Taipei to participate in the book fair, they noted with some envy the support that independent bookstores in Taiwan receive from their country’s Ministry of Culture. "In Hong Kong,” she says, “you feel things are good if they just kept their hands off of you!”
Asked about the challenges of running a bookstore at a time like this, the Boundary owners say they still feel there is some room to do what they want. “Even if it’s just for a time, there is still potential in the space of the bookstore,” Leanne says.
Unlike most traditional bookstores in Hong Kong, Boundary continues to organize various in-person events where people can share their work, as well as YouTube sessions with invited authors and a regular podcast to share thematic book selections. Amber says she constantly tries to generate exposure for the store and increase foot traffic. “It’s not just about selling books,” she says. “We do a lot of different projects, and sometimes we worry that people just won’t come, that attention will drop off.”
In addition to operating the bookstore, Boundary has also published many books on Hong Kong history, including A History of Hong Kong in Four Frames (四格香港史 - 開埠以來最QQ的香港史), and Notes From the City of Victoria (維城札記). Like Bbluesky and Tip Publishing, Boundary’s owners believe the publishing industry in Hong Kong today is undergoing a shift in orientation. There has been a massive decline in the number of books that explore social issues or social movements.
Leanne observes that the publishing of such books has shifted to Taiwan, which she says "will have a definite impact on the Hong Kong publishing industry." As this trend becomes more pronounced, she is even concerned that one day books on Hong Kong issues printed in Taiwan will have no way of making their way to readers in Hong Kong itself. Underscoring this threat, Hong Kong’s customs chief recently pledged to step up efforts to prevent “seditious publications” from entering the city.
Cold Off the Press
Elsewhere at the Taiwan International Book Exhibition, around 70 different titles released by independent Hong Kong publishers or sold by indie bookstores were crowded into a single display. This was the space of Art & Culture Outreach (ACO), a bookstore run by artist and community activist Lin On Yeung (連安洋) that brought 17 publishers and independent bookstores to the event. Lin says that in the current economic downturn and the political environment in Hong Kong have compounded the already immense weight on the shoulders of independent bookstores.
Lin uses the word “cold” (冷淡) to describe the atmosphere of the publishing industry in Hong Kong. He points out that media have played a crucial role in the health of the publishing — and authorities’ crackdown on the press has been yet another challenge for the industry. "The bleakness of the media also has an impact on the book industry,” says Lin. “Newly published books need to be promoted through media reporting, and the dimming vibrancy of civil society has also impacted reading habits.”
Lin addresses the loss of freedom of expression in Hong Kong and how it has directly affected the release of new books head-on. “When we release books, we now have to consider what we can talk about and what we can’t,” he says. “Only with freedom of expression can we have a diversity of responses, but this is now degraded.”
The same degradation, he says, can be felt across the Hong Kong printing houses that he visited to ascertain the temperature of the industry. “Some printers will self-censor, making their own decisions about the content and deciding whether to help you print or not,” says Lin. “Freedom of the press is narrowing even further.”
Some printers will self-censor, making their own decisions about the content and deciding whether to help you print or not.
Publishing has become challenging, and the business of selling books is difficult too. “Over the past six months, there have been many malicious complaints filed against bookshops, which has resulted in a disproportionate number of inspections,” Lin says, echoing the experiences of others. He adds that independent bookstores have already become highly vigilant, but even books that are non-sensitive can result in reports to the police. "If someone thinks that certain books 'may violate the law,' they will file complaints, and the law enforcement agencies will have to investigate.”
When a bookstore has a display full of books, the slightest miscalculation can result in a complaint. Lin says that self-censorship undoubtedly occurs as a result of this atmosphere. “The law is now so broad and ambiguous that as long as someone doesn't like the work and reports it, it may wipe out all efforts. Similar incidents happen not only in the publishing sector but also in the cultural sector and the theater,” he says.
Lin can’t say for sure whether the situation has hit rock bottom yet. He sees only a steep decline as he looks toward the future — both for the social climate and the publishing sector. "The nature of people’s lives and their reading habits are changing, and so it’s becoming more and more difficult,” he says. “But where do we go? I believe that the appetite for reading is still there, but the ways to handle things are different now.”
In recent years, the best-selling books in Hong Kong have been those on culture or observations of urban life. This, says Lin, reflects the desires of many Hong Kong people. “People want to read books that continue to write about the culture of the Hong Kong which we used to know.”
A Portrait of the Independent Bookstore
For Hong Kong in 2024, independent bookstores have created a “special character of the age” (時代特色). They have provided a language that conveys the character and spirit of the city. “The most beautiful scenery can vanish overnight,” reads the introduction to Color Portraits of Indie Bookstores (獨立書店似顏繪), a book by illustrator Ikey Poon (潘德恩) that looks at the culture and history of the independent bookstore in Hong Kong.
“Vanishing” may be an escapable fate. We might see, understand, and even accept this already — but this does not mean we can escape the pain of the experience. In her book, Poon employs hand-drawn illustrations of bookstore interiors to communicate their unique characters. The result is a series of “color portraits” (似顏繪) that bring each bookstore to life.
“The existence of independent bookstores is important because each one relies on limited resources to operate, and so must consider how they can survive,” Poon writes in her book. She spent a year and a half documenting these struggles — how stores like Book Punch (一拳書館), To-Day Bookstore (渡日書店), Hunter Bookstore (獵人書店), and many others sought ways to make the most of their resources and stay afloat. This has been a process, she believes, of documenting their “courage.”
Individuality determines style, and each of these bookstores epitomizes the character of its owners. For example, Hunter Bookstore, says Poon, places comic books in the “new books section” right at the entrance. “When people are enticed into the bookstore’s spaces, they are then likely to stumble upon books on more profound topics,” says Poon. “They use a friendly approach to encourage people to read.”
Of the 10 bookstores Poon explores in her book, four no longer exist. One example is One Seventh Bookshops (七份一書店), a social enterprise located in Wan Chai’s CC Wu Building (集成中心) that operated as seven distinct bookstore spaces in a co-working space — like a buffet of books spread across the shopping arcade. Poon believes that each of the seven spots within the shop was a testament to the style and character of its operator. “Each little section had its selection of books, blending different sets of issues so that they were like seven different select shops, all spawned at once,” says Poon.
While it may be the end of the road for One Seventh Bookshops, the spirit of resilience that the project epitomized could point the way for future endeavors in Hong Kong publishing and bookselling. “Things can finish,” says Poon, “but that does not mean it is the end.”
Look out for more in our series on the publishing and bookselling industries in the Chinese-speaking world in the coming days and weeks.