Photo by Rhonwyn Hagedorn I’ve been fascinated with the book trade since I was a child. Ah Bak, Elder Uncle, worked for a schoolbook distributor in Ipoh. Ah Ba, my father, visited him at least once a week and he often took me along. We would first be seated in Ah Bak’s manager office, a room full of boks. The Ah Bak would have his clerk bring us some soda drinks. While the two men talked, Ah Bak’s staff would come in to ask for his signatures on invoices, inventories and purchase lists. Everyone in the shop – from the labourer who carried the books in from the lorries to the accountant—were men. Knowing that I loved books, Ah Bak asked me, “Do you want to work in a bookshop?” When I looked shyly at the floor, in deference to an elder, Ah Bak laughed, “You’re a girl – you should never work in a bookshop. Bookshops are for men. It’s hard work!” This was why I always associated the book trade with men. Then, one day, a woman named Yvonne Chau from MPH called, inquiring about m...