The bookstore in Ginza (Japan)
In the 2000s, I used to loiter around Sichuan University. I was a yóu xué shēng—a wayfaring student—someone who enjoyed joining classes without formally enrolling. We would hang out late into the night, discussing physics, minority policies, or some new programming technique. These days, when I see campuses closing their doors to the public, it disappoints me. I feel like sending them a copy of O. Henry’s The Selfish Giant.
I recently came across the term again in an article about Chinese immigrants in Japan who are keeping the yóu xué shēng spirit alive through bookshops.
In the early two-thousands, universities were open to the public, and classrooms were frequented by what the media called youxuesheng (“wayfaring students”). Zhang fondly recalled biking through the vortex of street vendors at the university’s south gate and paging through lecture posters on the campus bulletins. “Back then, we used to go to Peking University for everything,” Zhang told me. “We ate there, showered there, and played basketball there.”
I visited one such shop in Ginza—One Way Street—which hosts talks on a wide range of topics. I may host one there soon.
