84, Charing Crossroad by Helen Hanff

 

Unit xx-xx, Street by the Big Field

Home overlooking the waters, Singapore

13 March, 2022

Dear Readers,

Sorry for the hiatus and the silence. I have been pre-occupied lately. Tons of things running inside my head and finding no immediate solution.

I don't exactly know what to say about the book that was recommended by a dear reader friend. I do love epistolary books. I love handwritten letters. I love the effort that goes behind writing letters. Finding the appropriate writing pad, the colour of the ink pen. The various thoughts that cross one's mind while writing the letter. [When I have many things to mention, I usually write down the points on a separate sheet, in case I forget to include them in the letter.]

Let's get back to the book. So 84 is a sweet, sweet book. How well informed, well read and yet so simple, warm and loving. Helen Hanff, for the love of British Literature, who lived in New York started writing "I-want-this-book" letters to a used-book store/dealer Marks & Co. in London. What started off as excited enquiries of the having a good copy of Blake or Chaucer or Donne or the likes, turned into a string of letters between people who did not know each other, but learned of each other over the years.

Helen took the liberty to keep sending various requests of the books she wanted and kept mentioning that she could not afford a high-priced one and if they would be kind enough to send her a neat copy anyhow. The library in New York did not always allow her to take the books back home, read them at leisure and bring them back when she was done. So, she would rather buy her copy and read them as and when she liked. [Sounds quite like me! The buying books, part!]

The books would be searched up for, by hook or by crook and be posted to her in a jiffy. Either she owed the bookstore people some money or they kept an account for anything extra she may have paid for. What comes across of these exchanges is the trust. A trust that is rare of the new world. Soon, Helen started sending gifts and food items for the staff of the bookstore. Christmas, New Year's or births of various staff member's children often saw a box of goodies reaching London from New York. Who else would be sending it but a person who was beyond family. A friendship that was so kind and so generous.

Many times, a staff member would write back to Helen stating that she was too kind to be spending her hard earned money towards these thoughtful gifts. I am sure she rubbished them all in her mind and sent them more!  This correspondence continued mostly between Frank and some of the members of the store. Formal letters turned into friendly, funny ones. I was almost choking on some letters and laughing over some correspondence. Amongst the many beautiful lines, one of course seems to have touched the hearts of many - "If you happen to pass by 84 Charing Cross Road, kiss it for me? I owe it so much.”

I loved one episode in particular. Hanff's friends were vacationing in London and they wrote back to her stating that there were in for a fright when they entered the bookstore and announced they were friends of hers! Each one wanted to feed them or gift them with something or the other. These friends wrote back saying, it was tough to escape alive as they all wanted to be with them who were Helen's friends    How sweet was that! And then of course, this one - “I'll have mine [The Book-Lovers' Anthology] till the day I die - and die happy in the knowledge that I'm leaving it behind for someone else to love. I shall sprinkle pale pencil marks through it pointing out the best passages to some book-lover yet unborn.”

I wish Helen had the means to go and visit the bookstore and their employees in their lifetimes. They kept mentioning that they would surely have a bed ready for her, if she chose to travel and visit them. Something or the other kept Helen from going. It would have been a wonderful friendship, which it was anyways. I was so, so sad in the end. I mean, some things are inevitable, but...

“I tell you, life is extraordinary. A few years ago, I couldn't write anything or sell anything, I'd passed the age where you know all the returns are in, I'd had my chance and done my best and failed. And how was I to know the miracle waiting to happen around the corner in middle age? 84, Charing Cross Road was no best-seller, you understand; it didn't make me rich or famous. It just got me hundreds of letters and phone calls from people I never knew existed; it got me wonderful reviews; it restored a self-confidence and self-esteem I'd lost somewhere along the way, God knows how many years ago. It brought me to England. It changed my life.”

Anyone with a mind block - read 84. It is lovely.

Shall write to you soon.

Love and warm wishes from my Island