The Vanishing Book Culture in Myanmar

 

By Ms Monn

THERE is a Myanmar say­ing, “May The Physical Body Be Carried Along Wherever The Mind Goes”, which evokes a profound philosophical idea rooted in Myanmar’s rich literary and cultural heritage. It suggests that the mind, nourished by knowledge and imagination, can transcend physical limitations, carrying the body towards enlight­enment, progress, and fulfilment. In traditional Myanmar’s thought, influenced by Buddhist teachings, the mind is the gateway to wisdom, and books serve as the vessels that expand its horizons. Yet, in contemporary Myanmar, these ideal faces significant challeng­es. As our society grapples with rapid modernization, economic hardships, and the digital revolu­tion, the once-vibrant culture of reading is fading, leaving many minds scattered and unanchored. Here, let me explore the decline of book-hiring shops, the struggles of libraries, the critical importance of reading for our youth, and the broader implications for Myan­mar’s cultural and national iden­tity, drawing on relevant facts from our country’s context.

 

When I was young, Myan­mar’s society pulsed with a flour­ishing culture centred around book-hiring shops, often called “rental libraries” or “book stalls”. These were not grand institutions but humble, community-driven en­terprises that dotted urban streets and rural wards. In cities like Yan­gon and Mandalay, and many oth­er small towns, late afternoons saw crowds of youths and adults flocking to these shops, eagerly selecting novels, magazines, and knowledge-packed volumes. They were metaphors for “doors of the heart”, opened by passionate book enthusiasts who curated diverse collections without the rigid sys­tems of formal libraries. Regular customers formed bonds with shop owners, discovering gems in literature, history, science, and aesthetics. I recall the simple joy of sitting in a nearby teashop, sipping lahpet yay (Burmese tea) while im­mersing myself in a freshly issued magazine. That tactile comfort – turning pages under the shade of a banyan tree – far surpassed today’s digital scrolling on smart­phones under free Wi-Fi networks in the same teashops.

 

Historically, these book-hir­ing shops emerged in the late 20th century, during Myanmar’s post-independence era, when lit­eracy rates began to rise under initiatives like the mass education campaigns of the 1950s. By the 1970s and 1980s, they thrived as affordable alternatives to buying books, especially in a country, where poverty limited access to personal libraries. Streetside book­stores in Yangon, such as those along Pansodan Street, became cultural hubs, offering everything from local folklore to translated in­ternational works. Comics, novels, and weekly journals were staples, rented for a few kyats, fostering a reading habit among the masses.

 

However, over the past few decades, these book-hiring shops have vanished like dinosaurs in a mass extinction. Their disappear­ance can be attributed to multiple factors deeply intertwined with Myanmar’s socioeconomic shifts. The most prominent is the explo­sive rise of the internet. In 2015, internet penetration in Myanmar was near zero, but by 2020, it had surged to over 40 per cent, and as of 2025, it exceeds 50 per cent. This digital leapfrog, fueled by afforda­ble smartphones and data plans, has shifted reading habits toward social media platforms like Face­book and TikTok. Young people now consume bite-sized content, often laced with misinformation due to low digital literacy rates – estimated at around 30 per cent among youth. Economic pressures have compounded this: post-COV­ID-19, book publishing in Myan­mar declined by 30-50 per cent, with only about 11,000 new books published annually in recent years, down from 14,000 in 2015. Rising costs of paper, printing, and dis­tribution have forced many shops to close, replaced by internet cafes and online entertainment.

 

Who has investigated this cul­tural loss? Few, it seems, as atten­tion focuses on immediate survival amid Myanmar’s challenges. To­day, while a handful of book-hiring shops linger in places like Yan­gon’s streetside markets, they pale against the backdrop of under­funded libraries. Myanmar boasts 55,755 registered public libraries, but only about 4,868 are active, with many lacking basic resourc­es. The government, through the Information and Public Relations Department, operates around 440 of these, but the founders of com­munity libraries face insurmounta­ble hurdles: funding shortages, site acquisition, building maintenance, skyrocketing book prices, and staff salaries. Initiatives like the Na­tional Library Development Plan 2040 aim to modernize libraries, including e-libraries for higher ed­ucation, and campaigns such as “Developing Libraries and Raising Reading Habits” in states donate books and cash. I praise the resil­ient mindset of library founders, like those in monastic and private setups, who persist despite odds, echoing the spirit of projects like Beyond Access Myanmar, which equips libraries with digital tools to bridge the urban-rural divide.

 

In this context, our nationals, particularly the youth, are drifting away from books. Myanmar’s liter­acy rate stands at approximately 89 per cent as of 2025, a commend­able rise from 75 per cent in 2016, but this masks disparities: rural areas lag at 80 per cent, and female literacy is 86 per cent compared to 92 per cent for males. Besides, other difficulties have further erod­ed education, with only four per cent of children having books at home. People who shun reading resemble those with disordered, scattered minds, unable to ap­preciate masterpieces by even the most brilliant writers. John Ruskin, the English critic, warned: “If a race who are looking down on literature, science, art, life, loving-kindness, and sympathy but is desirous and chasing cash, that race cannot last long in so­ciety.” In Myanmar, still grappling with poverty – where over 40 per cent live below the poverty line – chasing economic survival often overshadows cultural pursuits. Yet, as Ruskin implies, neglecting the mind’s nourishment invites societal decay. Man requires nu­trition for the body, but books feed the soul, fostering empathy, critical thinking, and innovation essential for national progress.

 

Moreover, the words of Ludu U Hla, a revered Burmese jour­nalist and chronicler, resonate deeply: “Opening of a door of a library can make a door of a prison close.” This wisdom, inspired by global thinkers like Victor Hugo, highlights libraries’ role in preventing crime through education. In Myanmar, the lack of a thriving library culture raises alarms. How many prison doors have opened due to closed library doors? Best-selling books globally rack up sales in the millions (seven digits or more), but in Myanmar, even hits rarely surpass 10,000 copies. This stark contrast un­derscores our literary standard: while countries like Thailand boast 2,116 public libraries and robust reading programmes, Myanmar’s per capita book access remains low. Literature is the yardstick of a nation’s culture, as most assume, and ours risks falling short.

 

All in all, animals do not read books; it is literature that elevates humanity from savagery, enabling escape from hostility and fostering civilized living. Myanmar’s literary tradition has long been a beacon. Yet, as a member of my township’s library foundation, I feel a pang of shame. We must revive reading through government-backed in­itiatives, community drives, and balanced digital integration — perhaps hybrid models like the 2018 launch of Myanmar’s first national eBook store. By nurturing minds with books, we ensure the physical body follows wherever en­lightened thoughts lead, securing a brighter future for our nation.