Yu Miao smiles with quiet satisfaction as he stands amidst 10,000 books on bamboo shelves at his newly reopened bookstore, JF Books, located in the vibrant Dupont Circle neighborhood. Far removed from his original Shanghai location, Yu now operates without fear of harassment from authorities.
“There is no pressure from the authorities here,” Yu says. “I want to live without fear.”
The freedom Yu experiences in Washington contrasts sharply with the growing restrictions faced by booksellers in China, where an increasingly tight grip on dissent and free expression has made independent bookstores a target.
In recent months, at least a dozen independent bookstores in China have closed or faced government crackdowns, according to an Associated Press investigation. Bookstore owners have been fined, interrogated, or even arrested. Yuan Di, also known as Yanyou, the founder of Jiazazhi bookstore in Shanghai and Ningbo, was detained in June. His case remains under investigation, with authorities tight-lipped about charges.
The Chinese government denies any systematic targeting of bookstores. However, the pattern of closures and increased inspections reflects Beijing’s broader effort to stifle spaces that foster free thought and independent dialogue.
Independent bookstores in China operate in a precarious environment governed by complex regulations. These businesses, often seen as cultural hubs, must navigate a labyrinth of government oversight while competing against digital media trends that are drawing younger audiences away from physical books.
“The government might be feeling that this is a time to be more cautious,” said Michael Berry, director of UCLA’s Center for Chinese Studies. “Controlling discourse and curbing dissent through tighter controls on reading material aligns with their efforts to prevent unrest.”
Many bookstores fall victim to the National Office Against Pornography and Illegal Publication’s strict inspections. The office recently intensified oversight, targeting not only bookstores but also printing shops and street vendors. In Shanghai, government officials have scrutinized businesses for handling “illegal publications” and demanded compliance with vague and ever-changing requirements.
For sellers like Wang Yingxing, owner of the now-closed Fatty Wang’s Bookstore in Ningbo, the crackdown feels unjust. Despite nearly 20 years in business, Wang was told he lacked a publication license. His secondhand shop was shuttered in August.
“We’re promoting culture,” Wang laments. “I’m not doing anything wrong, right? Then why won’t you leave me alone?”
Wang’s books, once proudly displayed, are now being packed away for coffee shops and bars, or sent to recycling plants for destruction.
Faced with impossible conditions, many Chinese booksellers are leaving the country and setting up shop abroad. In recent years, bookstores catering to Chinese communities have sprung up in Japan, France, the Netherlands, and the United States. These businesses not only preserve Chinese literature but also provide cultural spaces where critical thinking and open discussions flourish—something increasingly rare in mainland China.
Zhang Jieping, founder of the Nowhere bookstores in Taiwan and Thailand, notes a growing demand from Chinese expatriates who long for cultural spaces. “They want cultural autonomy,” Zhang explains. “Not necessarily a bookstore, but in any format—a gallery, or a restaurant.”
Yu Miao’s JF Books in Washington exemplifies this trend. Stocked with books from Hong Kong, Taiwan, and mainland China, as well as locally published titles, JF Books is more than a retail space; it’s a bridge between cultures.
For Li Yijia, a 22-year-old student from Beijing, the bookstore offers a sense of home and intellectual freedom. “A Chinese bookstore feels like another world in a bubble,” she says, “allowing me to think critically while also relieving homesickness.”
China’s crackdown extends beyond booksellers. The government is also targeting printing shops, internet bars, gaming rooms, and street vendors. In one instance, authorities in Shaoyang, in southern China, announced they were “cracking down on harmful publications in accordance with the law.”
Books without a China Standard Book Number (ISBN) are deemed illegal, including self-published works and unlicensed imports. Even books initially approved can be retroactively banned if deemed controversial. These measures have a chilling effect on writers, editors, and publishers who fear reprisals.
Zhou Youlieguo, a former bookstore owner in Shanghai, endured years of harassment before closing his shop and emigrating to Los Angeles. His bookstore, which specialized in art books and self-published works, was fined thousands of dollars, and Zhou himself was interrogated more than a dozen times.
“It felt like smuggling drugs instead of selling books,” Zhou recalls. He watched as colleagues were jailed, and artists and editors he collaborated with asked him to remove their works from his shelves to avoid government scrutiny.
Despite the challenges, independent bookstores continue to open in China. A 2020 survey by Bookdao, a book industry media company, revealed that more than twice as many bookstores opened as closed that year.
“There are many idealists in this industry,” says Liu Suli, who has operated All Sages Books in Beijing for over three decades. “Everyone who reads has a dream of having a bookstore.”
However, Liu acknowledges the precarious position of these dreamers. A single misstep—an unlicensed book, an untimely political discussion—can lead to closure or worse.
For those like Zhou and Yu who have found new opportunities abroad, the decision to leave China marks a bittersweet turning point. Zhou is unsure of his next step in Los Angeles but feels a deep sense of relief being free from constant harassment.
“I still love books,” Zhou says. “But I need to figure out a way to love them without fear.”
The growing diaspora of Chinese booksellers reflects not only a flight from censorship but also a commitment to preserving Chinese culture and fostering intellectual freedom.
These bookstores serve as sanctuaries for critical thinking, places where readers like Li can explore ideas without fear. For the owners, they represent resilience and a refusal to let authoritarianism silence them completely.
As Yu Miao organizes his shelves in Washington, he reflects on his journey. “Books are meant to open minds,” he says. “I hope my store can help people think freely, wherever they are.”
From the bustling streets of Shanghai to the quiet corners of Dupont Circle, the fight for free expression continues—one book, one reader, and one bookstore at a time.
