For anyone who's ever been to Fuchow, just mention the Nantun Field (May 1 Field) where Ching dynasty troops trained, Nanhou Street where in olden times talented young scholars and wizened old officials would congregate, or the Yushan scenic area with its Chi Chi-kuang Memorial Hall and white pagoda . . . and none of them would be un familiar. Pass these locations and take a corner, and you've come to the Nanmentou, the commercial district in the old city.

Nanmentou is a bustling area, with a department store, a friendship store, electronics shops, clothing stores, eateries, and photo studios lined up one on top of the other. Planted in the middle of this kaleidoscope of shops is one that doesn't catch your eye at first, a small bookstore of only nine square meters--the Shu Jen Bookshop. This is Fuchow's famous "individual household" (Ko-ti-hu, a code name for private ownership) bookshop. Today Shu Jen has reached the peak of its fame, and when you look inside you can see a sea of black-haired heads. Watch carefully at the door, and there are many outsider visitors as well, wiping the sweat off their heads and pointing up at the sign: "Oh, Shu Jen, this is the place."

Economic reform heats up, private bookshops fight for a place: After being led by a person met on the street, the first impression on coming to Shu Jen is that the place is too small, and there are way too many books. The narrow storefront has a path on one side and a glass book case on the other. The wall by the walkway is covered with the Wen Hui Publishing Weekly, the Fukien Daily Book Extracts, and other publishing information. And there are some reports introducing Shu Jen itself. The glass case and the shelves on the walls are covered with books. Squeezed in by the shelves, people looking for books have to bend over and lower their heads, starting from the feet up. The store can only hold four or five people, and even then you're shoulder to shoulder.

The rise and fame of Shu Jen is because it is a private, or ko-ti-hu operation.

As in other major cities in the south, the rise of private stores began only after 1980; the development of private bookstores only came after 1985. Shu Jen was established in 1986, so it passes as a senior ko-ti-hu in Fuchow.

Under the communist system, publishing and sales of books requires approval from a Xinhua branch. Even if you wanted to sell books, before liberalization there was only the "Xinhua Book store." After opening up the economy, the mainland has selectively permitted private enterprises, one which one type is private bookstores.

Shu Jen was by no means the first such book seller in Fuchow, but in the last five years it has established many "firsts," not only for Fuchow but for all of mainland China. For example: Last June Shu Jen held an essay competition on the theme, "The two sides of the Taiwan Strait, the dream of youth." In the end more than 13,000 people with more than 70,000 essays--many from Taiwan--participated. Shu Jen selected about 100 of the best and published them as a book, getting a lot of feedback.

In March of this year, Shu Jen participated in the Wen Hui Book Fair sponsored by Wen Hui Readers' Weekly in Shanghai. This book fair is held once a year, and has a critical role in the lives of the modern literati in Shanghai. Of more than 200 bookstores, Shu Jen was the one and only privately owned one.

If you run a private business, what will the child put on his housing registration? Shu Jen wants to establish another "first." That is to use the power of the bookstore to do book reviews for readers. This has its origins in the voting for "My Ten Favorite Books at Shu Jen" held a half year ago. The balloting has already finished, and Shu Jen plans to ask specialists and scholars to write reviews of the top ten books to provide to society for reference.

It seems to have been smooth going for Shu Jen to have so many firsts, but given the current stage of development in the mainland, it has really not been easy. Huang Shihong, a reporter from the Fukien Daily News, says that private bookstores--the so-called second channel--have fundamentally not been recognized and aren't very well respected. In terms of the Wen Hui Book Fair, Shu Jen applied for six years, but only received approval this year to attend.

Or there's the book reviews. The Xinhua Book store annually puts out its "Golden Key Book Reviews," but Shu Jen is the first ever private enterprise to do the same. How can Shu Jen compete with the state-run bookstore, with its financing, manpower and resources? Actually Shu Jen has no magic formula, but just relies on the two approaches of "diligently making up for short comings" and "flexible response."

Zheng Zhonggui, owner of Shu Jen, was originally a staffer at the Fukien Post and Telegram Bureau. This is one of the four most enviable "iron rice bowls" in the mainland--banks, post office, railroad, and customs--but this kind of security did not satisfy him. "Though he had memorized a volume of telegram numbers, he did not feel at ease, and wanted to find something that would let him learn his own value," is how reporter Huang, Zheng's old friend, describes him.

In 1986, Zheng undertook what to most was a startling act. He resigned from his job. This choice brought him the greatest disappointment in his life: His beloved wife took their infant son, not yet three years old, and left him. And all because, "if you run a private business, when the child grows up what is he going to write on his housing registration?"

So he did business with a Taiwanese businessman, but after a time that broke up because of an incident. What would be good to do next?

Circulating Peking, Shanghai editions: Zheng was extremely hesitant and vacillated, and stayed in his house doing almost nothing for half a year.

Later, while flipping through a book, he accidentally saw: Books are the ladder by which humans progress. This phrase really struck him--"Sell books. I can sell books!" Zheng was thrilled over this. Originally he had worked in the publications sales department of the post office (mainland publications are all sold by the postal service), so he was quite familiar with the terrain for this type of enterprise. Added to this were several relatives and close friends who loved books, so he got quite a lot of information about publications from that quarter, plus the fact that the book market had fallen apart, so that people with books couldn't sell them and people who wanted to read couldn't find books. Seeing how it would be possible to be highly successful in the book market, and that there were constantly people coming and going through the district (Nanmentou) where he lived so that it wouldn't be hard to attract customers, he made the decision and entered into the business of selling books.

Undertaking an enterprise takes capital. His 70-year-old father took out his retirement fund of only RMB 1000 or so and gave it to him: "My son, if you want to do this, then do it." So Zheng headed for Peking to buy books wholesale.

Looking for books in Peking was decisive in his success. The mainland is vast, and the most trusted versions of books, the "Peking editions" and "Shanghai editions," do not circulate easily elsewhere. "Sometimes local sales people are not very well educated, and when they buy books they pass on some good ones because they don't recognize them for what they are. Other times the publication volume is too low, and there aren't even enough copies for the place of publication, never mind the provinces," says Zheng Zhonggui. To compensate for this, he went to several provinces and relied on his two feet to carry him into the ivory towers of Peking and Shanghai to find good books for his readers.

Of course disappointments and failures were inevitable. Carrying his RMB 1000 in hand, he went through publishers and book stores in Peking. when some publishers saw the money in his hands, they simply refused to do business with him. Some book sellers rejected him with, "we don't sell wholesale to ko-ti-hu." Others just wanted him to get lost, until he was left without a shred of self-respect. "I often think that I have nothing, so why am I making a big deal about my dignity." Finally, finally, he was able to go through relatives to buy a few books. He would wrap up three or five books, and carrying them on his bike ride under the hot sun to the post office to mail them. In this way, relying on Peking for his first batch of books, the Shu Jen Book store finally opened for business.

A head for something besides business: Shu Jen's first sally forth was not bad, the reason being the books Zheng had mailed back; all had been carefully selected, moreover using the books most favored by the students of Peking University as the highest standard. In this area, his nephew studying at Peking University was of great help. For example, he suggested buying Tolerance, which was sweeping the campus in 1985 and 1986; it became the hottest selling item when Shu Jen opened up. Though popular, it was considered a banned book, so the state-run bookstores didn't dare to sell it. state-run bookstores didn't dare to sell it.

After the first wave, the number one reason why Shu Jen has been able to stay ahead has been accurate observation of trends in the market. In 1987, books by Taiwan authors like Hsi Mu-jung were very popular. He imported a large number and made quite a profit.

In the tiny bedroom upstairs over the book store, there is a small desk, covered with dozens of publication newsletters from all over, such as the Shanghai Wen Hui Weekly, China Youth News . . . . Zheng spends a great deal of time every day on them, checking out the reviews and new books introduced in the papers, and using them to bring in more books. And because of his many years of painstaking work, he now has relationships with 40 publishing houses and book stores across mainland China, and they exchange information by word of mouth. They trust the Shu Jen name, and Zheng doesn't have to go to the post office to put down a guarantee payment. "Just one phone call and the book seller will jump to get the books in the mail," says Zheng. Sometimes business worth tens of thousand of RMB is transacted on the phone.

Zheng lost his iron rice bowl, but discovered the value of life. The more he works at it, the better he gets. There are so many plans running through his mind--mail-order catalogues, using the power of Shu Jen to create a reading guidance center, finding a shop with more space, or even holding a book fair in Taiwan.

"Someone has said that the power of a book exceeds that of an atomic weapon. Then my shop is an atomic missile warehouse," laughs Zheng. Finding all the good books in the world is his life's ambition. It seems that this "individual entrepreneur" has a head for something besides business.

[Picture Caption]

The storefront at the Shu Jen bookstore looks unassuming enough, but the owner has a basketful of stories.

Besides ko-ti-hu (that is, private) bookstores, book shops in mainland China have only one name--Xinhua. This is the bookstore in a university in the south.

Besides ko-ti-hu （that is, private） bookstores, book shops in mainland China have only one name--Xinhua. This is the bookstore in a university in the south.