84 Charing Cross Road: A Book Review

“I remember years ago a guy I knew told me that people going to England find exactly what they are looking for. I said I’d go looking for the England of English literature, and he nodded and said: it’s there. Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t. Looking around the rug one thing’s for sure: it’s here.”

Last week I read a beautiful little book. I ordered it from the library, saw to my delight that it was a collection of letters, and found myself thirty pages deep before I got home. Within one week I had finished it. I am a bit late to the game in reading 84 Charing Cross Road. Bookstagram has been raving about it for a couple of years now, and I know its popularity began long before then. But that’s one of the wonderful things about books. Whenever you discover them they are completely new to you, regardless of how long they have been out. A book can sit around for years on the market and then one day, it gets to be a “new release” all over again because it found its way to your shelf.

This particular book delighted me for a few reasons. First, for its simplicity. 84 Charing Cross Road is a collection of letters written from an American writer to a used book seller in London. The correspondence spans the course of 20 years and while their conversations center primarily around the sorts of books Miss Helene Hanff likes to read, there is something endearing about the letters themselves.

Their charm lies in their simplicity. This book made me long for the time when you could write a letter to an unknown bookshop and have one of its employees write you back addressing you as “Miss.” It made me long for a time when people wrote letters in general. Correspondence is a lost art, and while I would hesitate to call Helene’s letters “art” in the traditional sense (the buffer of an entire ocean probably gave her the courage to write with more freedom than she otherwise would have, had her receiver lived around the corner), her letters revealed another sort of art: the art of friendship.

Humanity, warmth, humor, and love: all of these were able to steep like a warm cup of tea in the time it took Helene and Frank Doel to write their letters, and to wait for a response. Writing letters takes commitment, thoughtfulness, and patience. These virtues are essential to deep friendship. It is no wonder, then, that their communication eventually blossomed from one of utility into one of genuine friendship.

I also loved seeing how the letters between Helene and Frank were not exclusive to them. It was not as if they took joy in writing only to each other. There was an unselfish amiability and openness to their letters, and a joy in reaching other people through them. This allowed the warmth of their correspondence to spread like a blanket over everyone in their lives. More people than just Helene and Frank were blessed by these letters.

When Helene heard that the Londoners were still subject to post-war rationing, she began sending packages of food to Frank and his coworkers. This became a sort of tradition. On holidays and other occasions, Helene took care to pick out items she thought would be fun or useful to them. She even sent stockings to Frank’s wife and daughters. In thanks the Doels asked their Irish neighbor, Mrs. Mary Boulton, to sew a table linen for Helene, which they mailed to her as a gift. From that day on, Mrs. Boulton was included in Helene’s thoughts and in her care packages. The circle of friendship widened.

By the end of the book, Helene was not only writing to Frank; she was corresponding with his coworkers, his wife, his daughters, and Mrs. Boulton. These were not temporary relationships. What began as a mere transaction evolved into numerous real friendships between people who were committed to caring about each other, even though they had never met in person.

In our digital age, it is hard to imagine this kind of correspondence. Sure, we comment on each other’s articles here on Substack. We like each other’s photos on Instagram. We send emojis off into the abyss of story reactions. These interactions may make us feel like we have really connected with one another. But I personally believe something great has been lost in the transition from physical to digital correspondence. When we engage digitally, the commitment level is low. No one expects more than a simple “like” acknowledging their comment. There is no genuine interaction happening, no true relationship.

Letters (in any form, but especially handwritten) stand out to me as a sign of commitment to relationships. They are a sort of rebellion against the low-risk and low-commitment era of instant communication. My heart aches for friendships like the ones Helene Hanff formed. Even though they were transatlantic, they were real. I think that is one of the reasons this book has touched the hearts of so many. I have not been to 84 Charing Cross Road, but Helene’s letters made me feel like I was a part of the life that went on there. The friendship between Frank and Helene reaches beyond the pages of their letters and invites us to return to simple but authentic communication with one another. If you are in need of a good read this year, I recommend picking up 84 Charing Cross Road. It is a little beacon of light and warmth in a world that is constantly plugged in, yet increasingly alone.