LETTER | Not long ago, we found ourselves walking through a Klang Valley shopping mall on a quiet weekday evening.
As we had some time to kill, we were looking for a good book to browse. Unfortunately, we were made to realise the bookstore we were used to, MPH, had shuttered.
In fact, there wasn’t a single bookstore left in the entire mall.
It may seem like a small thing, but we can’t help but wonder if the absence of a booktore says something deeper about us. Not just about shifting retail trends, but about the society we are becoming.
Bookstores were once staples in Malaysian malls. From Times to Borders to MPH, these weren’t just shops, but cultural landmarks.
Families would stop by after lunch, students lingered between shelves, and casual shoppers often left with unexpected new reads.
This quiet, thoughtful space is vanishing. Why?
The obvious answer is commercial. Bookstores face tough competition from online platforms and e-books. Soaring mall rentals make it hard for them to survive.
From a business perspective, it makes sense for mall operators to prioritise food outlets, fashion, and lifestyle brands that promise higher foot traffic and quicker returns.
But if you scratch deeper, this isn’t just about profit margins. Our shopping malls are physical reflections of what we value.
When bookstores disappear, we are not just clearing shelf space, but instead clearing space for thought, curiousity, and ideas too.
It is not that Malaysians don’t read. According to the National Reading Decade Initiative, we now average 20-24 books a year, an increase from 15 in 2004.
The Education Ministry once set a target of 30 books a year for an ideal reading culture. On paper, it looks like we are getting closer.
But averages can be deceptive. In truth, a small group of avid readers accounts for most of those books, while many read far less. And when they do, it is often in fragmented, scrolling formats: captions, headlines, comment threads.
Not exactly the kind of reading that builds deep thought or critical reasoning.
So when bookstores vanish from our malls, we are witnessing more than a retail casualty. We are seeing a quiet erosion of public spaces for intellectual life.
Once, these were places where you could stumble upon unfamiliar ideas, discover new authors, or strike up a conversation sparked by a book cover without an algorithm deciding what you should see.
Some might argue reading has simply gone digital. It is true that e-books and online book sales are on the rise. Yet surveys still show 57.7 percent of Malaysians prefer reading in physical bookstores, with another 24.5 percent favouring cafes or quiet nooks.
Third spaces explorers like Kuala Lumpur Reads have seen resounding reception for their Saturday reads at Taman Tasik Perdana.
The appetite is there, but what’s missing is the space to support it.
Elsewhere, independent bookstores are making a comeback. In Japan, the UK, and parts of Europe, these shops are being reimagined as community hubs, co-locating with public libraries, supported by grants, or integrated int local tourism.
The concept is simple: they don’t just sell books, but keep public thought alive.
Could we do the same here? Absolutely. It would take imagination, commitment, and partnership.
Mall developers could rethink cultural anchors, not just commercial ones. The local councils might explore rent subsidies or incentives for bookstores in high-traffic areas. Public-private collaborations involving pop-up lit corners, mini-libraries, book exchange stations could weave reading back into our daily lives.
We don’t have to reinvent the wheel; existing examples, such as the Selangor Public Library Corporation, has already set up a public library at Jaya One, a mall with high traffic.
This isn’t about nostalgia. It is about deciding what kind of society we want to build.
If malls are the new town squares, then what we choose to place in them speaks volumes about our collective values. A society that prizes critical thought and reflection must consciously create space for it.
So the next time you stroll through a mall and notice there’s no bookstore, don’t just shrug it off.
Instead, ask yourself this: What kind of future are we shaping, one empty shelf at a time?
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of Malaysiakini.
