84 Charing Cross Road by Helen Hanff
84 Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff
I admit, I’m not a letter writer, but I love the idea of it. And I love reading other people’s letter. So 84 Charing Cross Road is a natural for me. This book of correspondence runs from 1949-1969 between Helen Hanff, a brash writer in New York City, and an antiquarian bookstore in London. The letters start out very business-like: “Would you have a copy of this book?” is answered with “Yes, here it is and here is what you owe.” The letters get a little more friendly, until Hanff breaks loose with this:
“Frank Doel, what are you DOING over there, you are not doing ANYthing, you are just sitting AROUND.”
She goes on to excoriate the everlastingly patient Frank for not finding her books in a timely fashion, and then tells him she’s sent some eggs for Easter. (Did you know the British were on war rationing into the 50s? I didn’t!) She finished with this,
“Well, don’t just sit there! Go find it! i swear i dont know how that shop keeps going.”
She never does puncture that proper British reserve, but the affection that grows between Hanff and all of the shop members is touching indeed. This is a short book, a quick read, but one that I re-read every few years just for the chuckles I get from Hanff, for the intimate look it gives me into the life of Londoners right after the war, and the nostalgia of a day gone by wherein we would write our letters on heavy, creamy paper, and a bookstore would immediately respond by sending the book with an invoice and not require payment up front.
If you like this, take a look a Hanff’s The Duckess of Bloomsbury Street. Also, I got some of the same feel from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer. It also is letters between book lovers, and is also set in post-war England, a lovely little book that I also thoroughly enjoyed.
Tags: letters, Nonfiction