84 Charing Cross Road
This review will serve to illuminate the wonders and the failings/dangers of the internet. I bought this book from an independent bookseller in Hastings yesterday, but can’t for the life of me, remember its name. No amount of Googling has turned up the goods, even though I know its whereabouts. So, if you walk down George Street, and the bookshop in question is open, look out for their signposts and follow them down a little backstreet (West Street?) and there you will find it. I always try to support independent booksellers and this is a charming little place with a man bookbinding out the back.
It’s a good job we don’t all rely on Google for all our information, or where would be? All visiting the same chain stores and buying the same things…. *ahem*
However, by the wonders of Google I was able to drop the little yellow Google Maps man on the pavement right outside 84 Charing Cross Road. I tell a lie. I wasn’t. I can’t get to grips with the bloody thing and so have no idea if there is still a bookseller there.
Anyway, if you’re feeling slightly jaded after reading three Jean Rhys novels on the trot, then this is the perfect antidote. It is a story of friendship and generosity, delightfully told through the medium of epistles – you know, letters.
I love letters, but never get any. I used to be a prolific letter writer, but now it’s all emails and twitter. What a shame.