I’m not exactly the type of person who loves reading. I don’t have a plan to read a certain number of books each year, nor do I feel a burning need to read them all. Sometimes I’m even too lazy to pick up a book. But when I come across a truly good book, I can’t put it down—I’ll stay up all night just to finish it. *The Bookshop on the Island* is exactly the kind of book you’ll want to devour in one sitting. It isn’t the kind of story with a roller-coaster plot, but strangely enough, most of the time as I read, I found myself reflecting on my own life. It was a subtle feeling, as if the characters in the book all carried a bit of who I “used to be,” or who I “might become in the future.”
The bookstore bears witness to the growth and transformation of a lonely soul
The novel’s protagonist, A.J. Fikry, the owner of the bookstore, is selfish and aloof, sharp-tongued and stubborn, unsympathetic, and full of criticism toward the world. He runs the only bookstore on the island, stubbornly selling only the books he likes, and he’s particularly “principled.” He says he doesn’t like postmodernism, flashy styles, books that are too long or too short, children’s books about orphans, deceased narrators, and magical realism. Reading this, I actually found myself smiling a bit. Because it’s so much like us—that way we are in our youth, swearing up and down, “I’ll never do such-and-such.” Yet later on, he adopts a little girl; the man who once claimed to hate “orphan stories” begins to earnestly learn how to be a father. He even dreams of his deceased wife turning into a vampire, and he can’t refuse her request for him to become one too.
To put it simply, people change. Just like I used to say, I didn’t like curly hair, but now I get it permed twice a year; or how I used to only eat hot pot with dry spice mix, but now I can’t live without the oily one. Maybe in a few years, I’ll have to eat my words about never getting married. So when I saw A.J.’s transformation, it didn’t feel jarring; on the contrary, I didn’t see it as a forced plot twist “for the sake of the story.” His transformation began when a specific person entered his life. It wasn’t a lesson or a slogan; it was a real, living little girl standing right in front of him, waiting for him to make a choice. When people truly change, it’s often not because they’ve figured something out, but because someone stands before them, leaving them no choice but to stop pretending.
United by books, bound by understanding,loneliness eventually finds a home
The female protagonist, Amalia, is a laid-back book saleswoman. She travels for hours carrying a list of books, yet she doesn’t come with the mindset that she absolutely must make a sale. She isn’t the kind of dramatic, larger-than-life character; she’s more like someone you might encounter in real life—doing an ordinary job, having gone on many blind dates, and appearing to take things “as they come.” But deep down, she knows exactly what she’s looking for. After meeting A.J., she didn’t hesitate for long before making her choice. It wasn’t because he was perfect, but because there was something indescribable between them—a sense that they could talk to each other and truly understand one another. Reading Amalia’s story, I suddenly felt a bit envious. Not of the romance itself, but of those moments of “being understood.” There’s also Maya in the book—this little girl acts like a thread, slowly weaving everyone together. Any dramatic buildup doesn’t precede her arrival, yet it’s what makes everything start to change. Those who were once isolated begin to form connections and develop care for one another, no longer existing as isolated islands.
While reading this book, I realized something I’d been reluctant to admit: when I said I “don’t like reading,” it wasn’t that I truly disliked it—I was simply afraid of being disappointed. Afraid of opening a book, reading for ages, and getting nothing in return. But *The Bookshop on the Island* showed me a different possibility: a book doesn’t have to change your life, it just needs to make you, on some late night, suddenly want to tell yourself, “It’s okay, take your time.”
