Twelve years ago, Sakamoto was abandoning his career as a piano salesman for a new adventure in sales. His idea, as good ideas so often are, was simple: establish a clean, well-lit used bookstore staffed with friendly, well-trained employees and create a pricing system designed to yield a high margin of profit.

In the service-oriented society of today, setting up shop with these ground rules might seem like a given. But in the Japan of 1990, used bookstores were dark, cramped, dusty affairs. Furthermore, an elite group of publishers, wholesalers, and bookstores had for years been cooperating closely with one another to squeeze their competitors out of the business. One of their main assets was a stipulation of the ironically named Antimonopoly Law, which prohibits the sale of books at prices other than what the publisher has fixed. This provision effectively eliminated competition among wholesalers and bookstores and raised the publisher/wholesaler/bookstore relationship to a level of prime importance.

Fortunately for the entrepreneurial Sakamoto, the Antimonopoly Law has nothing to say about used books. In less prosperous times, he reasoned, people would be forced to change their reading habits. They would be less willing to pay the exorbitant cover prices demanded by the big-title publishers. He came up with a simple but ingenious pricing system whereby his shops purchase books at 10 percent of their original cover price. They are then retailed at half the cover price. If, after three months, the books have not sold, they are then discounted to ¥100 (US .85, € .75).

Japan is a culture that prizes newness. In Tokyo it is rare to see cars older than five years on the road, buildings that have survived more than 20 years, or young people who are not immaculately dressed in the latest fashions. Still, the prospect of finding books that can retail for upwards of ¥20,000 (US $170, € 150) for a mere ¥100 is hard to resist for even the most savvy Ginza shopper. It also helps that Sakamoto’s used books are cleaned and sanded using special techniques that he developed to make them look near mint. The engaging, efficient staff on hand that handles the books and shelves them along spacious, well-organized aisles in the clean, brightly lit stores helps add to the store’s appeal as a welcoming destination.

As a result of Sakamoto’s efforts, Book-Off has grown into one of a few benchmarks for entrepreneurial brands in Japan. The bold blue and yellow signboards of the store have attracted all comers from penniless students to book collectors hoping to uncover a steal. Not only are the storefronts bright and friendly, but the stores themselves are located in major neighborhoods, unlike the obscure backstreet bookstores of the past.

The past 10 years have not been kind to the Japanese publishing industry. In spite of an alleged 99 percent literacy rate (a statistic rendered dubious by its endorsement by the Japanese government), books simply do not occupy a cushy spot on the shopping lists of consumers. Total publishing sales declined for the sixth consecutive year in 2002, though books posted a meager 0.4 percent rebound from the previous year on the strength of the children’s book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The popularity of the children’s novel underscores the paucity of “serious readers” in Japan, more so than in other parts of the world. The nationwide bestseller list is routinely topped by self-help books and primers on the Japanese language, while novels rarely crack the top ten. Comic books remain the most popular form of “literature,” with sales to adults and children accounting for 37 percent of overall sales.

For all the woes of the publishing industry and the dire state of reading in Japan, annual sales of second-hand books climbed to ¥90 billion in 2002 (US $763M, € 674M). Book-Off claimed a very healthy portion of that number with sales exceeding ¥20 billion (US $170M, € 150M), vaulting it to the position of Japan’s ninth largest bookseller. There are now 725 Book-Off stores, with branches as far-flung as New York and Los Angeles, catering to Japanese customers overseas.

But Sakamoto is not content to rest on his laurels. Turning a new page on its brand, Book-Off has expanded into other realms such as sporting goods (B-sports), clothing (Mode-Off), and technology goods (the interestingly named Hard-Off). In a recent profile in the Asian edition of Time magazine, Sakamoto even speculated that he might try his hand at a nationwide ramen chain.

In a country where the average salaryman appears content reading his manga on the daily commute, Sakamoto has succeeded with a little ingenuity and effort at building a new "used" brand.

Patrick Williamson works in marketing and corporate communications in Tokyo. He previously worked for four years at a leading global brand consultancy.