bookshopdreams
By James Disley
20 April 2007
Books are always something like dreams, fragments of another world. Although we can touch and hold them, its just a shell. Their real life is inside our head, an intangible vision of a place not quite like the ones we know.
Japanese books are no different in this respect, especially not to Japanese people, not expecting roman text behind the cover. But Japanese books are different, nonetheless, to those that originate elsewhere. Its clear that the attraction isn`t just what is inside them, strong as that may be. Seductively difficult script, inpenetrable at first, but gradually yielding with the hours; this might be the reason the book exists but the camera-wielding self that stalks the shelves of Kinokuniya is pulled there by something else. Its a visual attraction, sensual and over-whelming. Its in the colours; spines so vivid your eyes might bleed. Its in the flimsiness; so transient you could write a haiku about them. Its in the covers; so varied its impossible to be pithy about them.
So, this is bookshopdreams. 本屋の夢. It is my tribute to the beauty of Japanese books and Japanese bookshops. If you ever get the chance, visit one and dream.
