Imagine a bookstore where you don’t need to buy a book to enjoy it—a place where browsing is not just allowed but encouraged, and where a cup of coffee comes with the price of admission. Sounds too good to be true? Well, it’s happening right now in Singapore’s bustling Chinatown Complex, thanks to one woman’s bold and, by her own admission, irrational vision. But here’s where it gets controversial: Can a tiny, hybrid bookstore-library model survive—let alone thrive—in a world dominated by e-commerce giants and skyrocketing rents? Let’s dive in.
When former business journalist May Lin Au Yong, 48, announced her plan to open a shop in the aging Chinatown Complex, her family had questions—and plenty of them. ‘Are you sure, sis? Do you even plan to sell anything?’ her sister asked, echoing the skepticism many would feel. After all, the space she won in November 2024 was a mere 2.4m by 2.4m—smaller than a room in a typical three-bedroom HDB flat. Yet, Au Yong was determined to bring her dream to life: a hybrid model combining a bookstore and a pay-as-you-read library. And this is the part most people miss: It’s not just about selling books; it’s about creating a space where people can connect with stories, art, and each other.
Chinatown Complex, a 42-year-old mixed-use development famous for its hawker center, isn’t exactly the first place you’d expect to find a bookstore. Yet, nestled among its labyrinthine corridors is Eliko Picture Books & Collectibles, possibly one of Singapore’s smallest bookshops. Named after her nephew Eli and her brothers (blending ‘Eli’ with ‘ko’ from their names), Eliko opened its doors in April 2024. For just $8, visitors get a cup of coffee and the freedom to browse over 600 books in a cozy corner furnished with a leather lounge chair, child-sized stools, and a storage chest that doubles as seating.
Here’s the twist: Not all books are for sale. Newer titles are displayed outside at steep discounts (some as low as $10), while inside, Au Yong’s prized collection of rare, vintage picture books takes center stage. These aren’t your typical children’s books—they’re works of art, with words and images that don’t always align, leaving room for the reader’s imagination. ‘I often have to explain that,’ Au Yong admits, part curator, part storyteller. Customers don’t just leave with a book; they leave with a deeper appreciation for the craft behind it.
But let’s be real—running a niche bookstore in a cutthroat market is no fairy tale. Au Yong pays $1,000 a month in rent, a bargain by commercial standards but a hefty burden for a venture yet to turn a profit. ‘I’m only now just meeting rent,’ she shares. ‘From April to November, I haven’t made money.’ She’s tapped into her retirement savings and juggles freelance work, including lecturing at Lasalle College of the Arts and producing documentaries, to keep the lights on. Is this sustainable? Or is it a labor of love destined to burn out?
Au Yong’s daily routine is a testament to her dedication. Each morning begins with a 45-minute setup—arranging boxes, pulling out a 12kg table, and ensuring every book and visitor has breathing room. The monotony of retail has been a surprise, she admits. ‘My sister told me business is about making hundreds of small decisions. She’s right. Even finding bookends that won’t topple took forever.’
Despite the challenges, Au Yong remains hopeful. She dreams of expanding within Chinatown Complex, though units rarely change hands. For now, she’s focused on staying afloat, designing postcards, stickers, and collectibles to complement her books. ‘Book profit margins are poor,’ she explains. ‘I need to be sustainable.’
But here’s the bigger question: In an era of digital dominance, does a space like Eliko still matter? Au Yong believes it does. ‘Picture books take 10 minutes to read, but they open worlds,’ she says. ‘If I can share that with even a few people, maybe this irrational idea is worth trying a little longer.’
Eliko is open Thursday to Saturday from 1:30 pm to 8:30 pm, and Sundays from 12:30 pm to 4:30 pm. So, the next time you’re in Chinatown, why not stop by? Grab a coffee, pick up a book, and decide for yourself: Is this the future of bookstores, or a beautiful experiment destined to fade away? Let us know in the comments—we’d love to hear your thoughts!
