Little Chicks Working Up a Sweat
The old factory building that had looked shabby from the outside revealed its true character the moment we stepped through the door.
From the street it had seemed multi-storied, but the ceilings were simply high—it was a single floor after all.
The timeworn red brick walls and the tall windows between them gave the place the feel of an old cathedral. And the towering bookshelves that filled the spaces between those windows were packed with countless books.
On the wall facing the door we had just come through, the shelves rose a full two or three stories high, complete with stairs and railings so you could climb up among them.
A large fireplace on either side of the room crackled with burning logs and threw off a pleasant warmth, while lights placed thoughtfully throughout the space deepened the cozy atmosphere. If they sold coffee here, it would have been a book café in everything but name.
Was this what they called industrial interior design? It looked far better in person than it ever had in photographs. I had only seen industrial spaces a few times online after I started taking an interest in design; this was the first time I was standing in one.
While I was admiring the aesthetic of the room, Reni was impressed by something far more practical.
"Wow, there are so many books!"
This time his voice did not boom through the space the way it had a moment earlier. The wall of packed shelves, the plush sofas and armchairs filling the wide floor, the thick carpet, and the countless potted plants scattered about in a way that looked haphazard yet somehow perfectly balanced—all of it must have been soaking up the sound.
As I stood slightly spellbound taking it all in, Evan came up beside me.
"I fell for this old brick building at first sight. The natural light is excellent, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's wonderful. I never would have imagined this kind of atmosphere from the outside."
Evan smiled with quiet pride and nodded, saying he had felt the same way.
"It's old, but the building was designed with careful attention to ventilation and insulation. That was the decisive reason I chose this place. When you manage books, you have to be mindful of humidity control."
"Are all the books on those shelves up front ones you'll be selling at the bookstore?"
"No. Those are from my personal collection. Some came out of the house when I was packing, and the rest had been sitting in a rental warehouse. You can't leave books meant for sale out in the open like that—you have to be careful of sunlight as well."
Someone once said the end stage of collecting is real estate. For Evan the book lover, this place was nothing short of a dream made solid.
"The books for the store are in those boxes over there for now."
Evan pointed toward one corner. There sat several cartons of books, a wide table that looked convenient for packing orders, a computer for checking invoices, and a printer for shipping labels.
"Doesn't this seem a bit like the tail wagging the dog?"
It somehow looked more like a private library than a working bookstore. I was half joking, but Evan answered with complete seriousness and pointed to the right-hand wall. I had been so captivated by the overwhelming three-story bookshelf straight ahead that I had not noticed—every shelf along that wall was empty.
"I plan to fill these shelves exclusively with books curated for Bibliophile."
Then he gestured to the display arranged in front of them. Where you might normally expect a sculpture, the books from his first curation—Love and War—had been set out like works of art. Several volumes were stacked and leaned against one another with a careful sense of style, and beside them the calligraphy I had written and sent him had been framed small, like a title plaque for the whole arrangement.
"Oh, this is…"
"Daaad!"
Oh dear. Whatever I had been about to say vanished as I turned toward Reni's voice. When a child stretched a word out like that, it almost always meant there was something he wanted very badly. And sure enough, Reni was pointing with sparkling eyes at a rocking horse standing in front of a distant sofa.
Is something like that even appropriate for this place? Wondering that, I started walking toward it. When I glanced at Evan, he fell into step beside me.
"It is something I prepared for the children, yes. This doesn't really seem like a space where kids can have fun, so… Would you like to try riding it?"
Instead of answering at once, Reni looked up at me. When I nodded, he beamed and nodded back.
There were two rocking horses. Evan helped Reni onto the slightly larger one—a unicorn-like creature with a horn and bright, sparkling eyes painted on. Reni seemed to have ridden a rocking horse before; he settled into the motion at once, rocking happily back and forth.
Watching him, Evan asked with a pleased smile,
"Is it fun?"
"It's fun!"
I had been holding Luca while watching Reni. When I saw Luca staring fixedly at his big brother, I set him down on the floor. Then, gently patting the little shoulders of the child clinging to my leg, I asked,
"Big brother is having so much fun. Want to try the rocking horse too, Luca?"
"Uh-huh."
"Really? That's a yes?"
"Uh-huh."
Evan spoke up in a faintly skeptical tone.
"Did that child just properly understand and answer?"
"Of course. You have no idea how well our Luca talks."
"…Is that so. Remarkable. I was under the impression he was still under a year old."
"I'm kidding."
"…"
Ignoring the look of a man who had just been taken in, I gave Luca's back a gentle pat. At the same time I subtly drew the leg he was clinging to toward the other rocking horse.
"Uuhh…"
Luca eyed the horse that stood as tall as he was and eased his bottom back a little, as if slightly overwhelmed. The way both small hands clenched my pants told me a toy this size was a little frightening.
I knelt, wrapped my arms around him, and took both of his hands. Meeting the pink horse's overly bright, bulging eyes at a child's eye level, I could almost understand how he felt.
"Is our Luca scared?"
"Uh-huh."
He answered without taking his eyes off the rocking horse. I pressed a light kiss to the top of his head.
"Hmm? Is Luca's horsie scary?"
At that moment Reni, who had been riding with gusto, scrambled down from his own horse to come to his little brother's rescue.
"Luca, horsie isn't scary! It's pink. Look—so pretty."
Reni stroked the horse's head, trying to show Luca that the rocking horse was nothing to fear.
"…Heehee."
Then Reni broke into a giggle. Whatever the reason, the whole situation seemed to strike him as funny. The sound appeared to lend Luca a little courage. Perhaps seeing Reni—who was closer to him in size—looking so relaxed was more reassuring than anything I could have done.
"…Mwah."
Luca took his eyes off the rocking horse and looked at me. Seizing the moment, I lifted him and set him carefully on the saddle.
"Okay—Reni hyung is having so much fun, so should our Luca try riding too?"
The horse Luca sat on had a backrest and a stable design, all soft colors and gentle curves. Once he was settled, I knelt beside him, placed his little hands on the handles, and poured on the praise.
"Waaah, our Luca did so well. Our Luca is so brave!"
Reni giggled again. Luca, instead of answering, simply blinked his bright, shining eyes as he studied the horse's head.
"Shall our Luca ride the horse and go for a gallop?"
When I slowly rocked the horse back and forth, Luca's slightly protruding lips twitched—the cute little expression he made whenever he was concentrating hard.
"…It seems like he's more curious than finding it fun," Evan observed from the side.
"Yeah. For anything to really become fun, you seem to have to pass through the 'curious' stage and get a little more familiar with it."
When I straightened up to stand, Luca's gaze followed me the whole way. In the end I lifted him off the rocking horse.
"Our Luca did great. So well for a first time."
"Hee…"
As I patted his back with praise and pressed smacking kisses to his cheek, Reni somehow managed to latch onto my leg. He said nothing and kept his eyes fixed on the middle distance, but the message was clear: he wanted fussing over too.
I went down on one knee and opened my arms. He grinned bashfully and nestled right in.
I wish I could hold both of them in my arms like this forever.
"Our Reni is such a caring big brother. When your little brother was scared, you stayed right by his side and even showed him how."
"Of courseee! Heehee."
Evan had prepared far more for the children than just the rocking horses—a toy where you rolled a small ball through tunnels, a soft baby body pillow, puzzles, picture books, and more.
"You prepared so much."
"Picture books were easy enough to find, of course. For the toys I simply searched for the most popular ones for kids and bought those."
It looked more than enough to keep the boys from getting bored during the couple of hours we would be staying. Grateful for the thoughtfulness, I spread the toys and picture books across the wide, plush floor sofa. The children latched onto them at once. It was only natural that brand-new playthings would hold more interest than the ones I had brought from home.
Thanks to that, Evan and I were able to settle into a relatively leisurely coffee break and begin the pre-interview for the video shoot.
While Evan was brewing the coffee, I pulled a large plastic container out from under the stroller. His eyes went wide.
"What's that?"
"I felt bad coming empty-handed, so I packed a small gift."
Walnut pie that stayed good even after it cooled, and a plate-and-mug set I had made myself.
"When you open an office, you surprisingly need things like these."
Not knowing his tastes, I had deliberately kept the design plain and clean. Fortunately, Evan seemed quite pleased with what I had brought.
Over steaming coffee and sweet walnut pie, we properly began the pre-interview.
"Actually, the idea of bundling and selling books through book curation was a project that fell through at headquarters—that is, at Brown House Publishing."
"It doesn't seem like a bad idea in itself. Why did it fall through?"
"Most likely because they were concerned that the direction of curation I wanted could include personal impressions. Rather than grouping books by some objective standard, if too much of an individual's thoughts and tastes come through, you can't use it as a product representing headquarters."
The more religious coloring was involved, or socially sensitive issues, or topics that resisted clear definition, the more that held true—that was Evan's explanation.
"Of course, the most important part is separate. I didn't want to curate using only books published by our own house."
"Ah. Then that must be the biggest factor."
From a publisher's standpoint rather than a bookstore's, promoting titles from other houses simply would not make sense. I had always thought of Evan as the perfect company man, no matter the time or place—but he truly seemed to love books. Seeing this new side of him, I felt some of my preconceptions about him begin to crumble.
How to weave any of this into the interview, though, was another question. Evan was still working as an editor at Brown House Publishing, after all.
My first steps as an interviewer were not going to be easy.