A new chapter for independent Hong Kong art bookstore Tai Yip, as long-time patron takes over
Over dim sum and tea, owner of shop dedicated to traditional Chinese art finds a saviour in journalist Tinny Cheng
Working as an independent bookseller and publisher in Hong Kong can be a dangerous business.
Nevertheless, independent bookstores seem to be thriving in Hong Kong. For instance, Stand News, an independent media company, operates more than 70 stores in Hong Kong and Macau.
Independent bookstores stock mainly Chinese-language books but some, such as Hong Kong Reader, Bleak House Books and Art and Culture Outreach, have a good selection of English titles, too. Each shop has a specific focus. Hong Kong Reader, for example, is where you’d go for academic titles in the humanities and social sciences. However, few are as specialised as Tai Yip.
The bookstore was opened in 1975 by Cheung Ying-lau, a Baptist University Chinese department graduate, who, having been unable to find books on traditional Chinese art, decided to open a store dedicated to them. During its heyday, in the 1980s and 90s, it also published titles on how to authenticate Chinese antiques, such as a now much-sought-after series on Ming and Qing dynasty ceramics, and had four branches, including a 3,000 sq ft emporium inside the Hong Kong Museum of Art, in Tsim Sha Tsui.
When the museum announced it was closing for renovation, Cheung, who is in his 70s, began to think of retiring. He shuttered his flagship store in 2013. He had no successor in mind and believed there was no future for his business in a society that was becoming ever less cultured.
Arts journalist Tinny Cheng Tin-yi emerged as Tai Yip’s unlikely saviour.
By late last year, Cheung had decided not to renew the lease on his remaining outlet, in Stanley Street, Central. Then one afternoon, Cheng, a huge fan of the bookshop, walked into Luk Yu Tea House, also on Stanley Street, to find Cheung at his regular booth. She sat down to make a last-ditch attempt to talk him out of closing the store.
Instead, over dim sum and tea, it was Cheung who did the convincing, talking the journalist into buying the business. What sealed the deal was an offer that proved irresistible to the bibliophile: as well as the books in the store, thousands of volumes stocked in a warehouse, including many that were long out of print, would be hers, too.
The challenge is intimidating, admits Cheng, who worries that she rushed into a doomed venture and risks ruining the four-decade reputation that Cheung had built.
“I wish I had taken a picture of the faces of everyone I told. They all looked shocked,” she says. “They said I am either very brave or I am suicidal.”
But Cheng is convinced there is still demand for Tai Yip’s out-of-print books, which are of great value to collectors. She also wants to invite people to come in and browse, as she herself did for many years, as a way to learn.
Cheng wants to include more books on Hong Kong art and design, and invite in local artists for book signings or to give talks.
“Interest in culture is not something you can boost with one-off campaigns and promotions. It requires long-term cultivation. And that’s what I am going to do, together with museums, galleries and art writers in Hong Kong,” she says.