〜An Outsider, from an Insider Perspective〜
At this point, I’ve definitely lost track of how many times I have visited Kinokuniya—is this my 5th time, or my 10th? I wouldn’t know, and I couldn’t tell.
Ironically enough the start of my Japanese studies began with a book, when the kid sitting next to me in 8th grade Earth Science opened a manga, and I thought, “Huh, what a strange kid, reading a book backwards.” Naturally when the same book caught my eye on a Barnes & Noble bookshelf, I picked it up and with a self-satisfied smile opened up to what I figured was the ‘correct’ way to read a book. Little did I know, I was the crazy one—and the book was quick to make sure I knew that. Right on the left inside cover of that English-translated manga was the exclamatory statement, “You’re Reading the Wrong Way!!”, and boy, did that hurt my ego. Maybe it was my tarnished ego that egged me to continue learning, because I went from reading English, to stumbling my way through Hiragana. By the end of 9th grade I had built up an extensive list of reference websites and, was involved in more manga than I could count. Yet, being the bookworm that I am, I learned that translating a manga volume into English takes about a month. Or at least that’s what the article I was reading directly said—what I heard was, ‘Japanese manga comes out a month before the English ones’, and so my frantic search for Japanese books led me straight to the door of Kinokuniya.
Stepping into Kinokuniya as a freshly minted Japanese learner was one of the most gratifying yet anxiety-filled experiences I have ever had. I was so enthralled by the idea that there were Japanese books in this store that I ran directly up to the 2nd floor and completely ignored the fact that there were English books on the 1st floor. When I got to the 2nd floor though, my excitement turned to horror, all elicited by one word—Kanji. Kanji, the alphabet that almost every Japanese learner dreads, for its characters, related to Chinese, that can take on multiple meanings depending on how they’re placed in a sentence. I mistakenly thought that with my steady grasp on Hiragana and limited understanding of Katakana that I would get by, but as I looked up at the signs, figuring that books were organized by author I realized that I could not read a single thing, and that the only Japanese word I could muster up the courage to say was arigatou. Still, in all my anxiety I was met with smiling faces, and even as I struggled to express myself I was met with positivity from a few kind staff members.
Perhaps that’s what keeps me coming back to Kinokuniya. In the midst of all the handprinted stationary, the carefully positioned figurines, and the wealth of Japanese novels—as an avid language learner, the number one thing I can ask for is encouragement. Even as I have moved away from manga on the 2nd floor and into the basement for lengthier novels and Japanese textbooks, I found the same positive response. This support is something that I have found in this place each and every time I have opened the door to say ‘Ohayou‘ or walked up to the information desk in the basement to ask about available books, or even talked with the manager to get an interview.
When I first met Manager Takano in 2016, I had been working on a project called Arts in NYC and was examining the art of Japanese literature and calligraphy. I had never had a full conversation in Japanese with anyone in Kinokuniya. After having a difficult time finding people to interview elsewhere, I was overjoyed and a bit surprised when Mr. Takano made time for our few questions despite the store being clearly busy, having never met me before, and having not made an appointment ahead of time. I was even more touched when I called months later in regards to this project, and he was more than receptive to host our pestering questions again. I held back a laugh when, after the recorder had been shut off, he asked, “So do you read manga?”, perfectly pinpointing the origins of my interest in Japanese. When I replied that I no longer did, but was currently reading an autobiography of Yuzuru Hanyu I bought from Kinokuniya, I realized, my story had not necessarily been a unique one, but my growth from that point onwards had been facilitated by this bookstore. Following the interview, I waltzed down to the all too familiar basement and got quite sentimental as I found I could read much of the Kanji. After 5 years, I know perhaps a majority of the best textbook brands, and have on occasion helped others find the appropriate studying material—as someone who had struggled only a few years ago, I think this is a beautiful way to grow.
This is the true Kinokuniya. It is a bookstore that manages to maintain the heart of a small family store in the midst of its globalizing endeavours—and as an outsider trying to see Japanese culture through the inside, Kinokuniya is all that I could ever ask for.
