The most sought-after delicacy these days is flaky mooncakes with a filling of salted egg yolk created by master baker Chen Yao-hsun (陳耀訓).
Priced at NT$980 a box, the mooncakes are snapped up in 10 seconds on the Internet. Even with scalpers jacking up the price to NT$2,500, there are still buyers willing to exchange it with a far pricier, hard to get concert ticket, just to get their hands on the pastries.
In sharp contrast, Cheng Da (政大書城) bookstore has announced that it is turning its final page. The owner made the complaint that publishers usually sell books at 45 percent off the cover price to online bookstores, but only 32 percent off to brick-and-mortar bookstores. For new arrivals, bookstores usually offer customers a 21 percent discount. In this way, brick-and-mortar bookstores actually make extremely little profit.
However, aside from book prices, there are other reasons bookstores are struggling to stay afloat.
Many people now buy from online bookstores, while others acquire knowledge or search for information from the Internet without paying a cent. They are spared from worrying about the disposal of books or not finishing them afterward.
There are also people who borrow books from libraries. Once, I thought about borrowing a classic book from the library, assuming that it was not a popular one. I was surprised to find dozens of people were on the waiting list.
Another reason people are now turning their backs on books is the prevalence of pictures and images. People no longer wish to plow through texts and words to understand what the author is trying to say. Instead, they want instant gratification and to acquire knowledge with the most direct, swift and exciting method, which makes them consider reading plain, old, bulky books an unattractive activity.
As a result, numerous bookstores have been remodeled into restaurants, supermarkets, youth hostels and the like. Once, I visited a major bookstore in Taichung, but after it was renovated into a fusion cafe, only a few books were left as decoration. There are more people seeking a nice cup of coffee than a good book. Eslite’s Ximen store is a relevant case.
A while ago, a book would become a bestseller because it had a beautiful and chic cover design. Many people would buy it because they wanted to take a picture with the book and upload it to their social media. It seems that people are not the only ones who have an existential crisis.
I believe the book industry is long past its heyday. Cheng Da, a bookstore that insists on selling only books, has been in the red by NT$40 million for over four years. Even though I hate to see the bookstore go out of business, it would be unfair if it remained open, yet kept on losing money. The public might be able to buy it more time by purchasing books from it, but this is not feasible in the long run.
The wiser solution might be to call on the government to establish guidelines and regulations on publishers and selling parties’ trade. Another aspect that the government should address is large and external digital platforms using news and magazine content for free. They should share their profits with Taiwanese media outlets.
Modern life is stressful, and people would rather buy a flaky mooncake, a scoop of ice cream or a bowl of milkfish congee than purchase a book for the same price.
It is certain that people are falling out of love with reading: They are opting for pastries over fiction.
Jimmy Hsu is a farmer.
Translated by Rita Wang
In their recent op-ed “Trump Should Rein In Taiwan” in Foreign Policy magazine, Christopher Chivvis and Stephen Wertheim argued that the US should pressure President William Lai (賴清德) to “tone it down” to de-escalate tensions in the Taiwan Strait — as if Taiwan’s words are more of a threat to peace than Beijing’s actions. It is an old argument dressed up in new concern: that Washington must rein in Taipei to avoid war. However, this narrative gets it backward. Taiwan is not the problem; China is. Calls for a so-called “grand bargain” with Beijing — where the US pressures Taiwan into concessions
The term “assassin’s mace” originates from Chinese folklore, describing a concealed weapon used by a weaker hero to defeat a stronger adversary with an unexpected strike. In more general military parlance, the concept refers to an asymmetric capability that targets a critical vulnerability of an adversary. China has found its modern equivalent of the assassin’s mace with its high-altitude electromagnetic pulse (HEMP) weapons, which are nuclear warheads detonated at a high altitude, emitting intense electromagnetic radiation capable of disabling and destroying electronics. An assassin’s mace weapon possesses two essential characteristics: strategic surprise and the ability to neutralize a core dependency.
Chinese President and Chinese Communist Party (CCP) Chairman Xi Jinping (習近平) said in a politburo speech late last month that his party must protect the “bottom line” to prevent systemic threats. The tone of his address was grave, revealing deep anxieties about China’s current state of affairs. Essentially, what he worries most about is systemic threats to China’s normal development as a country. The US-China trade war has turned white hot: China’s export orders have plummeted, Chinese firms and enterprises are shutting up shop, and local debt risks are mounting daily, causing China’s economy to flag externally and hemorrhage internally. China’s
During the “426 rally” organized by the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and the Taiwan People’s Party under the slogan “fight green communism, resist dictatorship,” leaders from the two opposition parties framed it as a battle against an allegedly authoritarian administration led by President William Lai (賴清德). While criticism of the government can be a healthy expression of a vibrant, pluralistic society, and protests are quite common in Taiwan, the discourse of the 426 rally nonetheless betrayed troubling signs of collective amnesia. Specifically, the KMT, which imposed 38 years of martial law in Taiwan from 1949 to 1987, has never fully faced its