한국국제교류재단

In his small shop of 40 years, Jeong Byung-ho weaves among towering stacks of used books to fill handfuls of orders, weathering a reading trend that has pushed aside printed books — and many of his cohorts.

Jeong Byung-ho inspects books at Seomun Seojeom, the secondhand bookstore he has run for the last 40 years in Seoul’s Pyeonghwa Market.

Beside the Cheonggye Stream, which flows through the heart of Seoul, sits the aged Pyeonghwa Sijang (Peace Market). In the 1950s, secondhand bookstores sprang up here and thrived into the 1980s. Many of the customers were students who could not afford brand new textbooks or those who had failed their university entrance exam and perhaps sought solace in writings of philosophers.

At the time, some 200 to 300 vendors occupied the book haven. But by the 1990s, their ranks began to dwindle. Now, only 18 remain. Jeong Byung-ho is one of them, the owner of the Seomun Seojeom bookstore for the past 40 years.

“The biggest reason the used bookstores fell into decline was the overhaul of the middle and high school curriculum and textbooks,” Jeong says. “Before that, there was only one textbook for each subject, and they were designed and printed centrally by the Ministry of Education. Back then, students who couldn’t get ahold of the textbooks in the provinces would come here to the used bookstores, but in the 1990s the policy changed so that many different publishers could come out with textbooks and reference books. From that point, the number of secondhand bookstores began to shrink, and I’m sure it’ll keep going down. Even now, there are people here who have put their stores up for sale.”

Small, independent bookstores also have become casualties of a major change in leisure activities and highly competitive discounts at internet bookstores. Korea is the most rapidly digitizing society in the world. With smartphone ownership at 95 percent, the highest in the world, and countless videos and written articles on the internet to browse, book reading has lost its appeal. According to the 2017 National Reading Survey by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism, only 60 percent of adults read one or more books, either fiction or non-fiction. That means that four in 10 Korean adults did not read a single book during the entire year. The main explanations were “being too busy” and “using smartphones and the internet” instead.

There used to be some 200 to 300 secondhand bookstores in Pyeonghwa Market, but no more than 20 remain now.

Changed Reading Habits
Jeong goes on to explain, “Large-scale internet bookstores deal directly with the publishers, so they can sell their books a little cheaper, but small and medium-scale bookstores have to buy through a distributor, so their profit margins are smaller. There’s no way to compete with the big internet bookstores. There are used bookstores that operate on a large scale too, but fortunately, the competition isn’t quite so fierce.”

Jeong heads the Cheonggye Stream Used Book Merchants’ Association, but there’s not much he can do about the situation. He says that there’s no way to stop the changing of the world, so all he can do is try to do his best.

“In the mid-1990s, my friends tried to get me to go into a steel plate business with them. They said I could earn in a month what the bookstore earned in a year,” Jeong recalls. “But when I considered it carefully, I came to the conclusion that, since I knew nothing about steel plates and had no interest in them but loved books, I should just keep doing what I enjoyed.”

A few years later, in an attempt to get through an economic rough patch, he added “Design and Interior Design Book Specialist” to his store sign. His interest in the arts had led to a stockpile of art books, and it seemed as though there was a growing buzz around art. These days, however, regular books make up a much larger proportion of what gets sold in his store. Even so, he still likes books about art and paintings.

After selling books for another 10 years or so, Jeong would like to try his hand at painting. His wife, Yu Seol-ae, also likes books and art. The couple have one daughter and one son. Their daughter is in Germany studying pipe organ and conducting. Their son went to university to major in animation but quit to pursue other studies. Jeong believes his son probably would do well as the owner of a bookstore but is not trying to persuade him.

“I have no intention of forcing him, but if he decides to take it on, I’ll gladly give him everything,” he says.

That would involve the store plus all of the books. Jeong sells his books on the first floor of his store. The second and third floors are for storage. Combined, the three floors cover about 200 square feet. Not much. In the heart of Seoul, though, a standalone retail space of that scale is no small deal.

If Jeong’s son replaces him, Seomun Seojeom could end up being like the storied Strand Bookstore in New York, a family business run for 92 years so far. “I took over this bookstore from a distant relative, and in the early days it was really difficult. We had to pay the rent but didn’t have any money, so we even took the small gold rings that were gifted to our babies on their first birthdays and sold them at jewelry shops,” Jeong says. “But no matter how hard things got, I always paid the rent on time. If the landlord didn’t come to my store to collect it, I’d stop by to deliver it on my way to work.”

With a floor space of around 200 square feet covering three levels, Seomun Seojeom is chock-a-block with books inside and out.

Remembrance
Then, in the mid-1990s, the landlord suggested that Jeong buy the store. Jeong lacked sufficient funds but the landlord served as his guarantor for a 30 million won loan. Jeong still feels indebted to his landlord’s generosity.

To fill orders, Jeong must leave his first-floor sales counter and go to the upper floors, where books are stacked. He leaves a note on a pile of books with his cellphone number in case incoming customers need to contact him. In the past he had many regulars, but now he has hardly any.

He elaborates, “There used to be lots of people who would write the titles of the books they were looking for on a piece of paper and bring it in. Some would bring lists of 10 or more titles, and there were even some who would include the names of the authors and publishers. But now there are no customers like that. Occasionally, there are people who come with an image of a book cover or title on their cellphones. It’s mainly older customers who come to my bookstore, and I really feel for them when they say that they struggle to read old books because the print is so small.”

If the old adage that every person is like a book is true, Jeong must be an art book of serene ink and wash paintings. Jeong wakes up at 5 a.m. every day and goes to early morning mass at Dobongsan Catholic Church near his home. He returns around seven, eats breakfast, and then leaves for work around nine on his commute by bus or subway.

Routine on the Go
A few times a week, he checks in with the old used book vendors in the antiques quarter behind Dongmyo, a Daoist shrine near the East Gate, to buy books and catch up with his fellow booksellers. There are three used book vendors in this area. On occasion, he also stops by the Seoul Book Repository, near Jamsillaru Station on subway line two. The facility was opened in March this year by the Seoul Metropolitan Government as a way to boost reading culture. There is a space for the sale of used books and a book café, and various cultural events are also held there, such as exhibits of donated books, book talks and rare book auctions. The repository has booths for around 30 used bookstores, where books are sold with a small commission going to the facility. One of the booths is for Seomun Seojeom.

“Because there were lots of reports about this facility in the media, many people come to visit,” Jeong says. “It was even better in the early days. Now it’s not quite as busy, but it’s still better than nothing.”

Secondhand bookstores operating on a fairly large scale are able to have an employee at the repository all day, which leads to impressive sales performances. But naturally, that is not an option for those who work alone, like Jeong. He leaves books for sale at the repository and pays a 10-percent commission of the sales price to the Seoul Metropolitan Government.

After stopping by Dongmyo or the Seoul Book Repository, Jeong arrives at his store around 11 a.m. Although there aren’t many customers, he is busy all day. There is no time to read. He must select books to send to the Seoul Book Repository, and gather those to fill online orders or the needs of TV broadcasters’ entertainment divisions.

“If there’s a doctor in a drama, the bookshelves in the doctor’s office need to be full of books on medicine. So, I select books to suit the setup of the drama and send them off to the studios,” he explains. “In the past, the people in charge of props would come and choose the books they needed, but it seems it’s not so easy selecting the right books to go with a particular profession. They really like it when I put the books together for them. A small order like that goes from about 50 to 100 volumes, but bigger orders can even be in the thousands. Not long ago I sent off 2,000. A few years ago, I was even tasked with an order of 50,000 books for a coffee shop franchise. They needed around 200 books, mainly novels, every time they opened a new café.”

Seoul Book Repository, located near Jamsillaru Station, was set up by the Seoul Metropolitan Government to promote reading culture. Seomun Seojeom occupies a booth in the space for secondhand bookstores.

Intervals
A phone call from his church can stop Jeong working instantly. At the church, he is “Joseph,” leader of a team of volunteers who manage funeral arrangements and the burial or cremation when a church member passes away. About twice a month, the church calls and Jeong closes his store to set his team in motion. It has been this way for the past 10 years.

“It’s something I enjoy doing. I live by the principle that, if I enjoy something, I’ll follow it through 100 percent,” Jeong says.

If he doesn’t have to hurry off to church, Jeong usually closes up his store at around 6 or 7 p.m. and goes back home. After having a meal, he lists books for sale online on his Kyobo Bookstore seller account and checks on orders that have come in, and finally goes to bed around midnight.

“Even if the number of people reading books keeps shrinking and the online bookstores keep growing, I’ll just keep living like this,” Jeong says. “I’m doing real work, thereby making a living. Since I’m doing what I want, I’d be happy to do it till my dying day.”