Saying Goodbye to Hong Kong: An Unexpected End for an Independent English Bookstore

Following tearful embraces and goodbyes, Albert ushers everyone from the bookstore at 7:45 p.m., closes the door and hangs a sign on it that reads, “Hong Kong is my home.”


by Lok-Kei SUM 沈諾基*; translated from the Chinese by Mary King BRADLEY**; cover photo by Chun-Tung LAM 林振東/ reprinted with the permission of Initium Media 端傳媒 (25 October 2021 | Hong Kong)

Every three months, Reena receives three or four books selected for her by bookshop owner Albert Wan. She belongs to the Bleak House Books subscription readers’ club. Last Christmas, Reena’s boss gave one-year memberships to five employees, including Reena.

She happened to be in the office when the first package arrived several days later, delivering what felt like all the excitement of another Christmas. “Everyone had a box, individualized [for him or her. You could see that] a lot of thought went into it,” she says.

Like the name Bleak House Books, the name for the store’s mail-order subscription service, Pickwick Club, was inspired by the works of English author Charles Dickens. 

Pickwick Club offered just three genres: mystery and suspense, general fiction, and young adult. But Reena, who works in writing and publishing, is especially fond of fiction for 8- to 12-year-olds, and so she emailed Bleak House Books to request that type of book. “I’m not very good at following the rules, so I changed them,” says Reena with a laugh.

Reena received one book from Bleak House Books, The Wild Robot, that particularly appealed to her. In this highly imaginative fantasy, a robot is shipwrecked on a remote island and becomes the adoptive mother of a goose.

Reena is full of praise for the subscription boxes from Bleak House Books, which have always contained at least one book that hit the bullseye and often included unknown titles by authors she hadn’t heard of. Even if she had gone to the bookstore herself, she says, she might not have been as equally successful at finding so many books that she enjoys.

It was almost a year before Reena first set foot in the San Po Kong bookstore, her reason for doing so its imminent closure. Albert’s decision to return to the United States with his family after the abrupt changes in Hong Kong’s political environment had left him no choice: he would have to close Hong Kong’s only remaining independent English bookstore.

“I wanted to ask them, what’s your secret? How do you know which books I want to read? Can you teach me to do the same thing for myself?” says Reena. She is losing not only books she would never otherwise encounter, but a bookseller who understands her.

Four Chances to Get It Right

Albert says that if only one person experienced a new book or author through Pickwick Club, he considers it a success. “Please keep reading, my friends,” he tells them.

Albert’s parents are Hongkongers, but he was born in the United States after they emigrated there in the 1970s. Originally a literature major, he transferred to the business college of another university, where he switched to studying finance. He realized the financial industry didn’t suit him only after he began working in the field, and it was then that he began his law studies. Afterwards, he became a defense lawyer, living, working, and adding to his family in cities such as New York and Atlanta.

When his wife, Jenny, found a teaching position in Hong Kong in 2017, Albert brought their two children to the city and started Bleak House Books as an online bookstore. After months of lugging books to markets of all sizes, Albert and his wife decided they had enough capital saved to open a brick-and-mortar store. It didn’t take long for them to find a unit on the 27th floor of an industrial building in San Po Kong.

Albert says that from the moment he saw the place, he liked both its looks and its light, and that he immediately decided to rent it—that was in October 2018. “San Po Kong … seems spacious, compared to many other places in Hong Kong,” he comments.

In good weather, summer sunlight does indeed penetrate the somewhat dirty air of this industrial neighborhood to seep into Bleak House Books, where the new and used books arranged on more than twenty bookcases exude a soothing smell. A piece of Chinese calligraphy that translates as “fine prospects” is tacked up in a corner of the window. All of these details form a magical moment in which reality and a world of books are inseparable.

It was a deliberate choice not to let the book shop become a “hoarder’s paradise,” says Albert. He hoped that readers who came to browse could sit in comfort for a while, without having to worry that a tower of books might topple onto their heads at any moment. A reading corner inside the store, designed especially for kids, features a rug and bean bag chairs.

When Reena is mentioned, store owner Albert laughs and refers to her as a “tough customer,” one who not only demands the unusual, but who also sends a message to tell him when the store has sent her books she doesn’t like. He says that there’s no real trick to selecting books for other people. It just requires a bit of time and taking note of how the other person reacts. “I figure, you have four chances to get it right, so … [laughs] if you fuck it up the first two times, you know, you’ll hear from them and you can tweak it,” he says.

Before Bleak House Books closed, Pickwick Club had approximately 20 members, which means Albert selected several hundred books for them over the course of a year. Busy at work, he had time to read only one book each month, so he saw making the selections as an opportunity to engage with new books and authors. This month he will send out this year’s fourth—and final—installment of Pickwick Club books ahead of schedule.

Tucked into the boxes is Albert’s farewell message to readers, thanking them for their faith in Bleak House Books and love of reading. In his message, he says that if only one person experienced a new book or author through Pickwick Club, he considers it a success. “Please keep reading, my friends,” he tells them.

Albert says the saddest part of leaving is that he can no longer maintain the same sincere, close relationship with his readers. For Albert, his wife, and kids, the book store is an extension of their family. It’s not uncommon to see his kids at the store, and his wife Jenny, an associate professor of humanities, also visits the store from time to time. With the addition of employees and regular customers, they are all one big family.

“I can’t say our relationship is being severed, but it is going to be more attenuated.”

Running a Bookstore Is Asking for Trouble…

“Even though we were just a stupid bookstore, [I wanted] people to come into this space and have them feel safe and at peace.”

An independent Hong Kong bookstore closing is nothing new, although Bleak House Books is a rare example of one that is closing for reasons other than financial problems. On August 29, Bleak House Books posted “The Last Memo” on social media, announcing it was about to close. “Given the state of politics in Hong Kong, Jenny and I can no longer see a life for ourselves and our children in this city,” wrote Albert.

Later, he adds that the family’s main struggle in regard to leaving Hong Kong has been choosing when, not “if.” Just as Jenny has responsibilities to her university community, Albert must ensure that the bookstore’s staff has enough time to deal with Bleak House Books closing. “It’s not any one thing, it’s everything, really, and most of it has to do with politics,” he says. 

Albert acknowledges that the United States, where they will shortly return, also has serious problems. “But at the end of the day, despite all the limitations and false fronts, there’s a type of freedom there that doesn’t exist in Hong Kong anymore.”

Although nothing the family does on a daily basis has any direct relation to politics, in “The Last Memo” Albert writes: “As George Orwell once remarked, ‘In our age there is no such thing as “keeping out of politics.” All issues are political issues.’” The bookstore hasn’t stopped doing business as a result of this, however. In its final days, box after box of new books has been delivered.

Asked if anyone had offered to take over the bookstore, Albert says, “Who the fuck wants to run a bookshop now? I mean, you’re just asking for trouble, right?” He simply hopes that one day he can hang up the Bleak House Books sign again in the United States.

Even so, he says that running Bleak House Books has been the perfect combination of physical and mental labor. From pulling a cart piled high with packages to the post office in summertime heat, to sitting at his desk and pondering how to market a book, it has all given this bookseller immeasurable satisfaction.

“I don’t regret anything, I would think that this was probably the best thing to have happened to me,” Albert says. “The bookshop has kept me going. During the toughest times during the past few years, it has given me hope.”

Bleak House Books was a clear supporter of the 2019 anti-extradition movement, stocking numerous titles on democratic movements and human rights during that period. “It felt like we had an important job to do, even though we are just a stupid bookshop, to have this space for people to come to and feel like they’re safe and at peace,” Albert says. “You felt like everything mattered a little more, even if it didn’t matter in the end, you just felt like you had to do something.”

Later, during the pandemic, Albert closed the bookstore twice. Fortunately, the mail order sales established online in the bookstore’s early days picked up at the same time, which kept Bleak House Books going. Albert describes Bleak House Books as a financially healthy and happy bookstore right up to the end. “I never thought it would be politics that would drive us to leave [Hong Kong],” says Albert. “The bookshop is more a casualty of our decision [to go].”

Sending a Book “Inside”

“This isn’t just about a book. The truth is that no one in Hong Kong is immune to what’s going on here.” Even if no one you know has gone to prison, those who have aren’t so far removed from us.

Two weeks after Bleak House Books announced it was closing, the store received a letter from a Hong Kong prison. This was when Albert first learned that a book from his personal collection, given to a reader, had made its way into the hands of Jane, serving a prison sentence for a case related to the anti-extradition movement.

That reader was Jane’s former tutor; the book, the tutor’s favorite novel, Beloved by Toni Morrison. He had given Albert’s old copy to Jane after her arrest. But because the pages contained Albert’s handwritten notes, Jane couldn’t take the book into the prison with her, to keep her company during her three-year sentence.

“I was very sad knowing that I won’t be able to visit Bleak House Books even after I got out in 2024. I wonder what Hong Kong will become after three years, better or worse,” Jane wrote in her letter. “Maybe one day, I will be able to walk into your bookshop again, in somewhere else, in another time.”

This is how a book connects Albert, who once took a college literature course in the United States, with a Hong Kong girl he has never met, who was imprisoned for a 2019 social movement. The same paperback novel touched several lives before returning to Bleak House Books as a letter.

After sharing the story, Albert repeats again and again that this is “very sad.” “It’s not just about a book. The truth is that no one in Hong Kong is immune to what’s going on here.” Even if no one you personally know has gone to prison, those who have aren’t so far removed from us.

Albert never thought he would receive a letter like this after he became a bookseller: “I used to get letters from people in jail because I was a lawyer, they needed my help.” Albert says what he could do was to write back to Jane and arrange to send her a clean copy of Beloved that would pass the prison inspection.

Recalling his days as a defense lawyer, Albert says the job taught him the power of stories and the written word. He discovered that telling a persuasive story during a trial had the power more or less to shape a person’s future. But over time, he also came to see that the American legal system was dictated by money and had an undemocratic aspect.

Albert chose to give his bookstore the same name as the book by Dickens because what the author says about the law in Bleak House agrees in many respects with Albert’s experiences. “The legal system has issues in general that make it a less than ideal vehicle for social change,” he says, and gives the example of abortion rights. U.S. law has already weighed in, but that hasn’t ended the longstanding “culture war” or attempts to restrict women’s access to abortion in many states.

“There are lots of ways to instigate social revolution. This bookshop is one of them … it’s a small store, but what we do changes this community,” says Albert.

A Safe Space Away from a Pandemic and Politics

Both women think it’s very difficult to find a good English bookstore in Hong Kong. For a city that has branded itself as a “World City,” this is truly incredible.

During Bleak House Book’s final days, many people heard the news that it was closing and came to the store for the first time. An 82-year-old retired engineer, for example, made a special trip in search of a book about Marx. Unfortunately, he was unable to find one. There were also customers like Mrs. Hui, who first discovered that Hong Kong had a book store like Bleak House Books when she read in the newspaper that it was about to close. Several people chose not to buy books, and instead left the store with old maps of Hong Kong and post cards. 

“Latecomers” included the Indian ladies Schoanna and Vedika. As kids they would frequently spend an entire afternoon together at an English bookstore, sitting on the floor to read. “So it feels really odd that we have to rack our brains to find an English bookstore, we’re really at a loss,” says Vedika. The pair finally found Bleak House Books through a friend’s recommendation. 

The large English-language bookstore chains in Hong Kong, such as Page One, have closed down one by one, leaving only the bookstores and book fairs focused primarily on Chinese books for the mainstream market. These places don’t suit Schoanna and Vedika’s needs. Schoanna, however, has always refused to buy books online or switch to e-books. “I need to see it and smell it,” she said. Only when she has it in her hands can she feel if a book is right for her.

Now, every time Schoanna returns to India or travels outside the city, she brings back a pile of English books. Vedika agrees that buying books online is more of a “procedure” and that it’s easy to be swayed by reviews. Hong Kong’s brick-and-mortar bookstores carry only the more popular English books, however, with no shelf space for new or smaller authors. Both women think it’s very difficult to find a good English bookstore in Hong Kong. For a city that has branded itself as a World City, this is truly incredible.

There are also regular customers like Major, who stop by the store every few weeks. Major, who lives in the area, describes Albert as “quite the character” and admires the storeowner’s attention to current affairs and his outspoken style on social media. “Nowadays there aren’t as many opportunities to disengage and browse through such a sea of books.”

In the past, Major has scavenged for treasure in the boxes labeled “Name Your Own Price,” unearthing masterpieces like Fahrenheit 451 and Catcher in the Rye. For him, Bleak House Books is a safe space where the pandemic and politics can’t find him for a while.

A Common Devotion

“If you’re looking for inspiration and hope for a brighter future though I have just the thing for you.”

After several weekends of the store having been crowded to capacity, the last night for Bleak House Books finally arrived on October 15th. Readers had “looted” the store over the past several days, leaving gaping holes in the store’s twenty-plus bookcases taller than a person. Second-hand paperback books usually kept in crates were moved to the shelves to fill in the gaps. “If I’d known it was going to be like this, I wouldn’t have said we’d donate whatever books were left. All the books are gone,” Albert says afterwards.

The roughly 900-square-foot space was packed with readers. Some obviously didn’t find what they had in mind, but still took a book to the counter to make one last purchase. Albert’s entire family and four shop assistants were all there. They had booked a table at a nearby restaurant, to share a meal with friends after Albert wrapped up the store closing.

Although the bookstore would no longer be in business at Halloween, the store still managed to sneak in this annual tradition. On the last day, its interior was decorated with skeletons, pumpkins, and bats. Custom candy boxes inscribed with “Bleak House Books” sat next to the counter.

When the hour set for the doors to close came at last, several dozen people remained, quietly watching the store’s owner and employees, unwilling to leave. Albert told them he had nothing else to say, and asked with a wry smile, “Why are you still here? Go home.”

No one said anything, but their answer was loud and clear.

Following a round of tearful embraces and goodbyes, Albert ushered everyone from the bookstore at 7:45, closed the door and hung a sign on it that read, “Hong Kong is my home.”

Albert and the others sat down to eat at last, an hour late.

During the interview, Albert mentions several times that he loves to write. He personally managed all of the Bleak House Books social media posts, which often took the form of diary entries about the day-to-day running of the store, or which reflected his thoughts on recent events.

If you want to find the roots of Bleak House Books, however, you might have to dig a little deeper.

On November 8, 2016, Albert posted a final article to his personal blog Invisible Man. He wrote that he would be moving abroad and closing down his law practice, and would therefore no longer be updating his blog about criminal defense and civil rights.

On the day of the U.S. presidential election, before any of the results had been released, he wrote, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned writing for this blog over the past seven years it’s that change—in perspectives, in policies, and in humanity—comes slowly if at all. Worse yet not all of that change is of the positive sort.”

It’s possible that after Albert wrote that post, he, like many others, experienced profound heartbreak over the final election results, then soon to come. But before any of that happened, he offered this piece of advice to the reader of his blog:

If you’re looking for inspiration and hope for a brighter future though I have just the thing for you. It’s the text of a speech given [at Central Park in 1944] by one of the greatest jurists to have graced the bench of the federal courts. His name is Learned Hand, and this is [how Judge Hand began his] speech, entitled ‘The Spirit of Liberty’:

‘We have gathered here to affirm a faith, a faith in a common purpose, a common conviction, a common devotion.’

It’s possible that even now, another idea is starting to take shape in Albert’s mind: an idea that involves another bookstore. A bookstore that is independent, with an edge, and awash in a good, soothing light.

***

* Sum Lok-kei is an independent journalist in Hong Kong. He is interested in politics and culture, particularly where they intersect.

** Mary King Bradley is a freelance editor and translator. Her recent translations include essays for the Hong Kong bilingual anthology Writing in Difficult Times and a series of diary essays by Law Lok-man in the Mekong Review. A personal essay is forthcoming in an English anthology, Making Space: A Collection of Writing and Art. She lives in Hong Kong.

The Last Memo

The Bleak House Books family (L to R) Albert, Aggie, Ysabelle, Angel, Maylene, Jenny, Ida, Charlie (miss you, Rachel)

How does one go about shuttering a happy, thriving and successful bookshop? This is a question that has been plaguing me for some time now. 

From the very beginning, my goal for Bleak House Books has been a modest one: to build a viable, self-sustaining, community-oriented bookshop on my terms. Four years later I can say that I have achieved that goal, thanks in part to the persistence and efforts of my wonderful bookshop family and also to the support of our readers and the community. 

So it is with great sadness that I need to announce that Bleak House Books will be closing. The last day the bookshop will be open to the public will be Friday, 15 October 2021, and the last day we will fulfill online orders placed with us will be Friday, 1 October 2021

The decision to close the bookshop follows another equally painful and sad decision, which is that my family and I will be leaving Hong Kong in the near future. As much as I would prefer not to have to disclose this in a public announcement, I believe I have a responsibility to the people who support the work that we do here at Bleak House Books to be honest and transparent about the reason for why I need to close the bookshop. 

The backdrop to these developments is, of course, politics. To be sure, what my wife Jenny, my kids, and I do in our daily lives is not overtly political. Jenny is a university professor, I sell books, and the kids are primary school students. But as George Orwell once remarked, ‘[i]n our age there is no such thing as “keeping out of politics”. All issues are political issues.’ This observation is as true today as it was in 1940 when Orwell first made it. And given the state of politics in Hong Kong, Jenny and I can no longer see a life for ourselves and our children in this city, at least in the near future. 

Some of you might be wondering why I decided to close the bookshop rather than sell or find someone else to run it. There’s no single answer to that question. Bleak House Books is an independent bookshop. And like any other independent bookshop, it has its own unique character, voice and mission. It is my preference to keep it that way. Also, to hand the reins over now after only four years of bookselling seems a bit premature to me. There are many things I still want to do and say, and of course, many more books I’d still like to share with everyone. 

My immediate concern for the next month-and-a-half will be keeping Bleak House Books open until the very last minute of the very last day for our readers, our community and Hong Kong. We have some fun stuff planned, so it’s not all doom and gloom from here on out. 

I recently put in a large order for new books — our last — that has brought to the bookshop some old favorites, special selections from our resident and far-flung bookworms, and also the random selection from Ye Olde Bookseller for which Angel, my trusty shop manager, will invariably tell me: ‘but no one’s going to buy that, boss!’ We will also have one last poetry reading with our good friends at Cha literary journal, the theme for which is ‘LOVE’.  And maybe I’ll finally break down and buy a beer fridge so I can have the proverbial ‘last beer’ with anyone who wants to have one with me at the bookshop before it closes. 

There will, however, be no farewell party, and no clearance sale. For those books we have left at the bookshop and in storage after the last day we will donate most of them to any independent bookshop or local institution that wants them. We will make sure our Pickwick Club subscribers and readers who have placed special orders with us get the books they are supposed to get. And we will return all the books given to us for sale on consignment back to their rightful owners.  

Having started this announcement with a question, it is perhaps fitting to end it with one as well, which is: what will happen to Bleak House Books after this? And my answer is: ‘I don’t know exactly’. We are living in uncertain, even dangerous times and for those reasons it is very hard to plan ahead. What I can promise everyone is that this is not the end. It is not the end of Bleak House Books. It is not the end of our journey. It is not the end of anything really. 

I was asked by a friend what I will miss most about Hong Kong when I leave. Strangely I couldn’t articulate to her what those things might be even though I knew I would miss a lot of things about this city. The truth is I don’t have the mental energy to ‘miss’ anything about Hong Kong yet because my focus is what I can do for the city here and now. Maybe there will come a time when I can spend a lazy afternoon thinking and reminiscing about what life was like in Hong Kong during this 大時代. But that time is not now. There is still a lot of work to be done and I intend to do as much of it as I can before my time here is up. 香港人,加油!

Coming Up For Air: Sometimes You Want to Go Where Everybody Knows Your Name

by Albert Wan

Originally published in Ming Pao on 12 April 2019 and reprinted here in full with the permission of the publisher

I know about a magical bookshop in Hong Kong. It’s on the island-side, so you can get there easily by your preferred mode of public transportation, but the best part of the journey there is the part that takes place on foot.

If you’re going by MTR, your first instinct when you exit the station may be to melt into the crowds. Don’t do that. There is a lot to see and you’ll miss it if you play it cool and join the herd.


Once you get your bearings, find a safe spot to plant yourself so you don’t get run over and stop to look around. You will catch glimpses of both old and new Hong Kong. On one street you might see traditional Hong Kong-style cafes serving familiar Cantonese fare adjacent to their newer, sleeker cousins of varying cuisines. On another, you might find a range of specialty shops — think handkerchiefs and plastic tarps — opened in an age when it was neither hip nor optional to operate such establishments.


The streets are narrow enough so that you know they weren’t designed with the automobile age in mind. Traffic signals are few and far between. Pedestrian crossings exist by way of subtle negotiations between the driver and walker rather than by marked signs.


I hope you’re in decent shape because you’ll have to negotiate a few steep stairways to get to the bookshop. Walking is serious, often sweaty business here in Hong Kong.


Once you get past the steep climbs, you will discover that the crowds and cars and bustle have all magically disappeared. Stretching in front of you will be one of several streets, almost certainly deserted and so quiet you will be able to hear yourself think again. Rather than busy storefronts and stalls you will see street art of the edgy and not-so-edgy variety.


You are close now. Walking down these eerily quiet streets you will feel like you’re floating down a jetway to a plane that is about to take you to your favourite vacation destination.


The bookshop is nestled at the end of a dead-end pedestrian side street, tucked away in an airy but cozy corner with chairs and tables arranged nicely in front. The corner is formed by a large stone and cement wall painted in a shade of pink. The wall shores up a large park that looms over the bookshop and gives it a kind of sanctuary effect one is more likely to find in a temple or a church than at a retail space.


When you step inside the bookshop you feel like you’ve stepped inside a home and not a store. It is the home of a person who not only loves books but also loves all the little things in life; ones that we take for granted all the time.


Look straight ahead and you’ll see a nicely appointed kitchen — coffee is made fresh to order — complete with a full size refrigerator in powder blue. Look to your right and you’ll see what might best be described as the ultimate picnic spread, not of food, but books, all personally curated by the owner and carefully set out. If you’re lucky the owner might be around but even if she isn’t you will find yourself in good hands with one of the bookshop’s many readers-turned-managers.


At first glance the shop might seem small. But there’s a pocket staircase leading up to a second floor. Mount it and you will find yourself in another room lined with more books and also a sunny seating area that overlooks the street below. An idyllic spot for reading, people watching, or both.


If you haven’t already guessed, I am describing the bookshop that is Mount Zero Books in Sheung Wan. It is the kind of bookshop that perhaps Ye Olde Bookseller would have opened up had he sold books in his past life. More importantly, however, it is the kind of bookshop that makes life worth living.


Today the resident bookworms at Bleak House Books will be “taking over” Mount Zero Books for the day so that we can finally experience the magic of Mount Zero Books for ourselves. And you, Dear Reader, are cordially invited to join us so that you too can see what the fuss is all about. We promise you won’t be disappointed.

Bookstore Owner ‘Murdered’ (New York Magazine; July 9-16, 1979)

by Carol Brener

I have just made my debut as a cover corpse. I did once have a death mask made, but that was small potatoes. Now, on bookshelves across the country, I lie with a large kitchen knife sticking up out of my blood-drenched blouse. I am smartly dressed, befitting the model murdered in Octagon House, one of three classic Cape Cod mysteries of the thirties by Phoebe Atwood Taylor being reissued in paperback by Foul Play Press ($4.50 each). When I asked who killed her/me, I was told, “Many people had reason.” I have since read the book, and I/she deserved it.

“Brener: Foul Play gives Murder Ink. owner a taste of death.

The other two corpses in the series are artist Edward Gorey and Dilys Winn, founder of Murder Ink. (the bookstore that I now own) and Edgar winner for the best-selling Murder Ink, the Mystery Reader’s Companion.

Gorey was “stabbed” with an elegant silver dagger while in a rocking chair. Dilys has tumbled to the bottom of the cellar steps, a neat puddle of blood beside her head. I repose on a level garage floor. (I was fairly comfortable: A heater was nearby, and I sleep on an extra-firm mattress.)

Photo courtesy of www.ernstreichl.org

Lew Merrim, our cheerfully macabre photographer, made “my” murder weapon by sawing a kitchen knife off at an angle and soldering it to a flat metal plate, which was taped in place on my chest. My genuine 1930s blouse was then slit to fit and slipped over the knife and the area bloodied up with paint artfully splattered to cover any sign of the gray tape. In the interest of authenticity, I wore a bra and full slip, garments consigned to the back of a drawer some years ago; an innocuous gray skirt; period seamed stockings bought specially for the shooting; and my pet black pumps. I was not pleased to hear Dilys chirp, “Where did you get those dreadful shoes?”

The three Taylor books, with their cover corpses, are lined up smack at eye level in my store, but no one recognizes me or my cohorts. Elma Lipscomb, however, who cleans my apartment, knew me the instant she saw the cover. I am told she carries the book on all her jobs. No one messes with Elma these days.

BHB’s copy of Octagon House with Carol Brener as ‘murder victim’

Coming Up For Air: First Kill All the Lawyers (January 2019)

Below is our January 2019 edition of ‘Coming Up For Air’, a monthly column we write for Ming Pao’s English language section, reprinted here in its entirety with the permission of the folks at Ming Pao.

【明報專訊】A few months ago I received a letter at the bookshop. It had all the trappings of an important document: London return address, personalised stationery, heavy stock paper. As I opened it I joked to Rachel our shop manager that it was probably a lawsuit. Luckily, I was wrong, but not by much.

The letter came from a large law firm and warned us not to sell a certain book. The book at issue was a newly released biography about a very rich and prominent individual who had at one point in time dated the likes of Paris Hilton but who is now considered a fugitive from justice.

The letter claimed that the biography was defamatory and full of lies. It did not mention of course that the biography had passed the vetting process of one of the world’s largest publishers, or that, at the time the letter was written, the book was already the subject of several talks that were scheduled to take place at prominent venues around Hong Kong, including the Hong Kong International Literary Festival and the University of Hong Kong.

The letter called on us to do two things: to avoid the book as if it were the plague — that meant we couldn’t stock it, sell it, distribute it, write about it, etc., — and to reply in writing with a pledge that we would avoid the book as if it were the plague. If we failed to do either of those things we would be sued.

My first reaction upon receiving this letter was to toss it in the trash. There was zero chance the book would end up on our shelves. Biographies about shady moguls are not the kinds of titles we stock at our bookshop, no matter how salacious or explosive their content.

Writing and sending threatening letters is also common practice among lawyers and I knew from past experience that not all such letters warrant a response, either because their claims have no merit or because it would never ripen into a full-blown lawsuit.

Nor did I want to start down the slippery slope of self-censorship. Even though I had no plans and never would have plans to sell this biography that was causing all this stir I wanted to leave the door open to the prospect of changing my mind. The last thing I wanted was to over-react to what may very well have been empty threats and box myself in to the point of no-return.

Lastly, I didn’t want to give the lawyer whose job it was to track down and threaten fledgling, indie booksellers like ourselves the satisfaction of a reply. Granted, my reply (if I sent one) probably wouldn’t have gone to the lawyer whose name appeared at the end of the letter but to one of his lowly, debt-ridden, nameless associates who did most of his dirty work.

But then I started thinking about our bookshop and all the time and effort everyone here has spent to make it into the special place we think it is today. It would be the height of irresponsibility if I put all that at risk just because I couldn’t get over my own feelings of anger and disbelief at having been singled out by this law firm.

And then my thoughts turned to the time I was a lawyer, all the demand letters I’ve sent or received during that time, and how important it was for me to receive a response to or follow up on these letters — mostly because it was the responsible thing to do, even if the end result was more litigation. So if the lawyer who handled this case was worth his salt he would make us feel the pain for not replying to his letter.

So at the end I decided to write him the response he wanted but on my terms. Here it is in full:

We are in receipt of the attached letter. We have no interest in your client, his life or any books that have been or will be written about him, including the one referenced in your letter. That means we will not waste our time or money to order or stock the book referenced in your letter or sell or distribute it in any way. Nor do we have any pre-sale orders for the book since we don’t sell it at our bookshop and have no plans to sell it. Hope that gives your client the peace of mind he is trying to buy.

So who won when all was said and done? The lawyer and his client received the commitment they demanded and the book hasn’t reared its ugly head in our bookshop. But they’ve also left us alone since then. No more threats. And thank god no lawsuits.

It is hard though not to think about what might have happened had we never received the letter. Was the threat of litigation all it took to scare regular folks like ourselves into submission? Would the book have made its way into the bookshop had it not been for the letter, even as a used book (not that anyone has tried to sell or give it to us)? Hard to tell. But one thing’s for certain: another book will be published, someone will be unhappy with it, and there will be no shortage of lawyers for this person to hire who will do their best to make this book disappear.

Available from Ming Pao via direct link here.