The Roadside Bebasari Brings Books Closer to People

by Cindy Julia Tobing
9th October 2024
As familiar as street food tents and general stores, this unassuming bookstore in Pancoran is putting books right into the mix of everyday life.

What makes an ideal bookstore?

Is it the conceptual—almost sculptural—spaces where books are arranged like art pieces? Perhaps it’s the ones with airy reading rooms or an attached café? Or could it be the hole-in-the-wall shop that feels like a claustrophobic nook but houses rare, elusive titles with no way of knowing where they have travelled to?

Just four months of age, the small roadside bookstore Taman Buku Bebasari is a fresh face in the city’s bookstore scene experimenting with the criteria, at a time when the online era is compelling brick-and-mortar book retailers to redefine themselves. 

Located at Gudang Sarinah Ekosistem in Pancoran, the small shop sits beside a warmindo (a streetside kiosk selling simple fare including instant noodles), with an open storefront that immediately exposes rows of books to the street view. Visible even from passing cars, Bebasari feels purposely present, drawing attention from everyone who passes by. This is because founders and avid football fans, Zen RS and Adi Sucipto, believe that bookstores should have the same sense of commonality and line of sight as streetside food tents, bike shops, general stores—places with no barriers between people and what they need. 

“If books are to be accessible and regarded as important, they need to stand alongside things that people universally consider essential,” said Zen, also editor-in-chief at Narasi. “Such as food. Whether it’s staples from general stores or simple dishes served at a warmindo, books should be nearby these everyday necessities, making them as common and significant.” 

“If books are to be accessible and regarded as important, they need to stand alongside things that people universally consider essential,” Zen RS, co-founder of Bebasari.

Around 5000 books—currently 60% fiction and 40% non-fiction—are stored in ceiling-to-floor metal shelves, tightly cramped based on their genres; still in the process of cataloguing them all, Bebasari stores a mix of Zen and Adi’s collection, and drop-offs from colleagues, customers and other indie bookstores like Toko Balzac in Pasar Gembrong Baru.  

A 1994 paperback of Anne Brontë’s Agnes Grey and Thomas Hardy’s The Woodlanders sit alongside the Bahasa Indonesia translation of The Jakarta Method by Vincent Bevins; nearby is a rare first and second edition of Ir. Sukarno’s Dibawah Bendera Revolusi as well as Pramoedya Ananta Toer’s seminal Bumi Manusia and Rumah Kaca, books that were once banned from circulation during the New Order regime. But there’s also an unexpected mix of Japanese manga series Bleach by Tite Kubo, in addition to books about football culture and tactics (much to the founders’ affinity for the sport) and poetry books from the renowned H.B. Jassin to more current Indonesian writers like Eka Kurniawan.

If scouring here feels like a disarray on its own—a mish mesh of genres with a slight leaning on history and socio-political subjects—consider it one of Bebasari’s bookstore charms where the joy is in what you can find in the randomness of it all, one that Ahmad Makki, the founders’ close friend and regular visitor, likens to a famous scene from Forrest Gump (1994). “It’s like that line about a box of chocolates,” he said. “You never know what books you’re going to get here, but it’s exciting when you do find something that you don’t expect.”

This also means getting a little bit of everything and finding a sense of freedom into what kind of new information, stories, and ideas one could get from the shelves. It ties back to the inspiration behind the name, Bebasari, which was drawn from a theatre play of the same name by Roestam Effendi; the play itself was banned from being performed, as it imbued critiques of the Dutch East Indies government at the time. “We avoid curation because we don’t want to dictate what people should read. Here, everyone has the freedom to explore and enjoy whatever they find,” said co-founder Adi.

“I remember back in my hometown in Serang, you would have to travel for at least an hour to find a bookstore,” – Adi Sucipto, co-founder of Bebasari.

Adi, who works part-time as a football coach, also adds, “The problem isn’t about the lack of interest in reading books, it’s about having little access to it. I remember back in my hometown in Serang, you would have to travel for at least an hour to find a bookstore.”

This parallels Zen’s goals to make bookstores near to the people, and how the exposure and proximity to books can help reach an audience that isn’t necessarily boxed to bibliophiles. It welcomes office workers, lecturers, Gojek drivers waiting for food orders. Students, security guards around the office area, comic book buffs. “My understanding of access is as simple as if you don’t see books, then you will never touch, read, or come to love them. [With Bebasari], we aspire to bring books closer and expose them to all segments of society.”

One can browse and buy, or sink into the simple wooden seats at the entrance and enjoy reading with the backdrop of busy streets. If you’re in luck, with Adi brewing coffee using beans that he had just picked up from nearby shops. The experience extends to the neighbouring warmindo, where they schedule author appearances—most recently, author Harlan Boer on tour for his newly-launched short story Deydo Meydo—and hold discussion gatherings at the kiosk’s back area. One of their recent events brought together football pundits to discuss the aftermath of the 2022 Kanjuruhan stadium disaster and the discourse of reclaiming football as the people’s sport.

“I’m unsure of what the political landscape will look like in the next five years. But I feel we need a room or space of our own where people can freely voice out their worries and concerns, and express their ideas. This is also one goal of mine,” shared Zen. “If I can point out a main challenge in running [Bebasari], it’s time. How do we nurture this place alongside our own professional commitments?”

Zen closed. “Because we believe spaces like Bebasari only work if they are personal. To reach its full potential, we need to be present—talking to people, recommending books, and sharing our stories. This is how we envision Bebasari to grow in the future.”