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Japan's book scene is moving from bookstores to libraries

Recorded: Sept. 17, 2026, 12:28 a.m.

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Japan's book scene is quietly moving from bookstores to libraries

Untranslated JapanSubscribeSign inJapan's book scene is quietly moving from bookstores to librariesSmall local libraries are now becoming travel destinationsAsami SaishoAug 26, 2026721216ShareAre you a book lover?If you are, I suspect you already do this: when you travel abroad, you find yourself walking into a local bookstore.I do it everywhere, not only in Japan but also abroad. My shelves hold some Chinese and Russian books even though I cannot read a word of them. A bookstore is one of the best places to understand the local culture: what people there are curious about, what they worry about, what they love.But lately I’ve become obsessed with another kind of book place: local libraries.I know that reading books is a trend among young people all over the world, and here in Japan, a big trend is emerging from libraries.The book that changed my point of view for librariesI recently read a Japanese book called 『都市のような図書館をつくる』—Building a library like a city. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been translated into English yet, but it captures precisely what libraries in Japan are trying to become a core of local community.Building a library like a cityUntil recently, oh, maybe still now… libraries have been boring and uncool place for most Japanese people.That changed in 2013, when Tsutaya—a famous Japanese bookstore chain, known for its popular Daikanyama store in Tokyo— opened an innovative public library in Takeo, a small city in Kyushu area.Tsutaya was the first place in Japan to put a Starbucks inside a bookstore in Japan, turning shops into a place where people linger. They did the same in Takeo’s public library: a Starbucks inside. In addition, they put a bookstore inside the library, so visitors could not only borrow books but also buy them. The bookstore sells some stationery and goods too, so the library made even people who had never been interested in books want to visit.When the library became famous, visitors started arriving not just from the neighborhood bur from far away. Then, the city has changed little by little. Residents found themselves around books more often, and communities started forming there. It turned out that a library could reshape an entire town, and unique libraries began appearing all over Japan, one after another.The most important point is: a library is a public place unlike a bookstore.That is exactly why all kinds of people can gather there casually, without needing to buy anything. Now, libraries are becoming each region’s hub of knowledge and people.A library with 100,000 visitors in a town of only 9,000 peopleThe other day I visited the library of Nankan, a small town in Kumamoto, in Kyushu—far from Tokyo, Osaka, its population just 9,000.Nankan library entranceAlthough it’s such a small town, its library, renovated last year, was extraordinary. At the entrance, the first shelves you meet hold local historical materials and books about the town’s notable figures. This library welcomes you by sharing about what Nankan is. I have long wished for a culture in which travelers’ first destination in a new city become the local library to get to know the area deeply, and here it was, already built.After you enjoy the Nankan shelves, as you walk deeper, the shelves widen outward: books about Kumamoto prefecture, then books about Japanese culture. This layout was designed deliberately—from the small town of Nankan, toward the wider world, step by step.The kuma (熊) in Kumamoto means “bear” in Japanese, so a bear character is the icon of Kumamoto Prefecture.Most Japanese libraries arrange their books by standard library classification, optimized for searchability. But this library is small, and precisely because of that, it refuses to be “correct.” Its shelves are designed instead for unexpected encounters with books you weren’t looking for.I also found a lot of interesting books I’d never seen there, so I’d like to visit again and stay for days just to read good books.Good libraries are built on soft powerThe library that make the news in Japan are usually the ones with striking architecture. But a beautiful building, I’ve come to believe, means little without substance inside.I felt this most clearly in Yahiko, a small shrine town in Niigata. It opened recently with modest building which has an event space and café on the ground floor, reading and study rooms above. You can read its detail on my blog: Good Libraries Are Built by Soft PowerThe entrance of Yahiko LibraryIt is a small and ordinary library in terms of architecture, but what stopped me was its book selection. I felt that every shelf carried the trace of someone’s judgment — not bestseller lists, not novelty, but a quiet editorial intelligence deciding what the people of this town might need to encounter. Standing there, I realized that what makes a library good is not the building at all. It is the invisible work: who chooses the books, how the space is tended, whether the local people keep visiting regularlySoft power, not concrete.A great building can be bought. A great shelf has to be grown.The most interesting Japan lives in small local placesThis is what I keep learning, town after town: the depth of Japan is not concentrated in Tokyo’s famous spots. It hides in small local places like Naknan and Yahiko.These places are not easy for travelers to research, especially for foreigners. They never show up in web searches or AI recommendations; they are places you learn about only through personal connections, from someone who knows. And that is part of what keeps them genuine.Someday I want to guide people who truly respect Japanese culture to places like these — to travel not to the Japan that was built for visitors, but to the Japan that stayed home. If you’d like to join me on that journey, even just on the page for now, subscribe and travel with me, letter by letter.Subscribe721216ShareDiscussion about this postCommentsRestacksCassandreSep 1Liked by Asami SaishoThank you for this delightful read! Places like these are why I love to meander in smaller streets instead of big touristy spots (not just in Japan). You always stumble upon something new and learn so much more about the culture!ReplyShare1 reply by Asami SaishoJack GreenbergSep 1Liked by Asami SaishoThanks for your post! It is great to know a bit more about the concept and context of these libraries. Earlier this year I visited Ōzushima and on my way back I stopped by the Tsutaya Shunan City Tokuyama Station Library. It is directly connected to the JR Station, and had bookstore and Starbucks just like the other branches you mentioned. It certainly seemed highly trafficked and that they made good use of every inch of the space.ReplyShare10 more comments...TopLatestDiscussionsNo postsReady for more?Subscribe© 2026 Asami Saisho · Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice Start your SubstackGet the appSubstack is the home for great culture

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Japan's book scene is undergoing a subtle but significant transition, moving focus from traditional bookstores toward local libraries, which are increasingly evolving into essential hubs for community engagement. The author notes that while bookstores serve as windows into local culture regarding public curiosity and concerns, libraries represent a different kind of public space, offering a venue for gathering without the necessity of purchase.

This shift is rooted in the concept of libraries as community anchors. The author references a work titled "Building a library like a city," which captures the ambition for libraries in Japan to function as a core component of the local community. This evolution was catalyzed by innovative retail approaches, exemplified by Tsutaya, a major Japanese bookstore chain. Tsutaya pioneered the integration of public amenities, such as placing Starbucks within bookstores and subsequently incorporating these features into public libraries. This approach transformed libraries from static repositories into dynamic destinations by creating environments where people linger, leading to increased visitation and the formation of local communities around these shared spaces.

Libraries are distinguished from bookstores by their function as public, accessible spaces where diverse people can congregate casually. The author illustrates this principle by examining specific library examples. For instance, the library in Nankan, a small town of only 9,000 people, was intentionally designed to serve as a cultural guide. Its entrance displayed local historical materials, leading visitors through books about Kumamoto prefecture and Japanese culture, structuring the experience to move the visitor from the immediate local context outward to the wider world. This layout demonstrates a deliberate strategy to make the local library the primary point of entry for understanding the region.

Furthermore, the quality of a library is determined less by its architectural presentation and more by its intangible content and management, which the author frames as "soft power, not concrete." The author argues that a beautiful building alone is insufficient; the true value resides in the invisible work of editorial intelligence—the selection of books and the tending of the space—deciding what the local populace needs to encounter. This is exemplified by the library in Yahiko, where the focus was placed on the selection of books rather than striking architecture.

Ultimately, the author suggests that the most profound aspects of Japan are found in its smaller, local settings, arguing that the depth of the country is not concentrated solely in major tourist spots but resides in places like Nankan and Yahiko. These smaller locales remain genuine because they are less visible to mass tourism and automated recommendations, existing primarily through personal connections. The author expresses a desire to guide travelers toward these hidden, authentic places, suggesting a journey not to the Japan built for visitors, but to the Japan that remained rooted in its local communities.