Book club magic

…diving into 84, Charing Cross Road

Wednesday was a magical day. The sun was finally shining. I got to spend time with my 14 year old. We ate delicious food and played cribbage.

Then I went to have a chat with my friend at the gallery. And there was a tiny dog. A 3 month old chihuahua that I was allowed to hold, until she fell asleep on me.

I wrote about it yesterday, I think. It was a big beautiful day.

…and I had to take a nap mid-afternoon so I could prepare myself for our first book discussion at book club.

I have belonged to a few book clubs in my time. The people have always been lovely. But oddly I’ve often felt out of my element. Talking about books is something I adore!

…but this book club, it’s right up my alley. My friend Audra Williams conceived of it. It’s called Signed, Sealed & Delivered..and we read epistolary (isn’t that a beautiful word?! I think I’m pronouncing it wrong, but I love it!)) books.

(Possible pronunciations of epistolary)

The Wikipedia article on the matter is fascinating.

The epistolary novel (you can click this link and learn all about them too!)

I love that I got to be a part of the initial forming of this club. That Audra texted me with a list of amazing sounding book clubs, and asked which one I might prefer.

I had to admit I was drawn to the Signed, Sealed & Delivered concept because I have been writing letters since I was young…and I have not stopped.

My first great love story happened in letters.

I married my first husband after writing emails back and forth.

My current spouse and I wrote 72 messages back and forth in the first five days before we met. Lengthy gorgeous walls of texts. And we’ve been enravelled (I may be making that word up, it means entwined) since the day we met.

I have been journaling daily since I was 6. That’s 40 years now.

I have pen pals in five different countries.

I write here.

…and I’ve always been enamoured of the post office. I came from a place up north where the post office was a grand adventure. It was my connection to the outside world. Before the internet, and emails going to the post brought me words from elsewhere.

So I was a bit biased towards the concept.

…and that was the one Audra chose!

We gathered in the dark of February and went through a list of possibilities, and we were tasked with pitching the books we might most want to read and discuss.

I pitched 84, Charing Cross Road.

I had read it 20 years ago, at dire recommendation by my friend to be Mr. Lee. I had just started working at The Miller’s Tale, a small independent and brilliant bookshop in Almonte, Ontario run by a man whom I adore, and who made me feel right at home when I moved there. I won’t tag him here because he’s not terribly fond of praise or the limelight. But his bookstore was one of my very favourite places in the world.

It had a couch. And you could sit and chat with him while customers came in, and where the choosing of books was a communal act. Anyone in the store an expert. It was a social place. And I LOVED it.

I’d always dreamed of working in a bookstore. I’d worked at a library in my small town, but we didn’t have a bookshop.

…and in my first week at The Miller’s Tale, Mr. Lee came in. I had been reading since I was three, ravenously. But I was no match for Mr. Lee.

“Do you have a copy of 84, Charing Cross Road?” he asked me. I’m not sure he even said hello.

I had never heard of it. Looked it up on ye olde Book Manager and I admitted we did not.

“Would you like me to order it?” I asked.

“Have you read it?” He responded.

“I have not.” The look on his face. It approached crestfallen…but also hopeful.

“Then you should order it. I’ve for yourself, and one for the shop. You can’t be a proper bookseller until you’ve read 84, Charing Cross Road.”

…and then he added.

“Once you have read it, and if you enjoy it, I’ll have something for you.”

…a challenge and a mystery.

I ordered two copies immediately.

…and read it I did. It was life changing. A very real set of letters between a brash New York tv writer and book lover, Helene Hanff and a very prim (at first) and slightly stodgy bookseller in London. The book has letters, real letters, and it documents this gorgeous friendship across two decades through letters alone.

My 26 year old self was enamoured.

When Mr. Lee returned I was bubbling over with gratitude. We talked books and he became one of my truest customers. I could rely on his recommendations and I became a better bookseller because of his kindness.

The next time he visited he brought me a gift.

The Duchess of Bloomsbury

It turns out that not only was Mr. Lee an avid reader, he was also a publisher. He mostly published books on the art of carpentry, and crafting. But he loved Helene’s book of letters so much…that when he realized there was a book in which she visited London to go to the bookshop and it was out of print…he bought the rights and published it himself.

It is among one of my most prized possessions.

Mr. Lee passed away after I moved to Seattle, and I never did get to thank him properly for being the guide he was. The friend I didn’t know I needed.

…so pitching 84, Charing Cross Road to this beautiful book club was a tribute to him, and our friendship. Much like Helene and Frank. Mr. Lee and I built a friendship on books, and getting to reread those letters in that book two decades later was like time traveling back to a time where I was a young hopeful bookseller, poet and aspiring weirdo.

I know both Mr. Lee and my young self would be impressed by the adventures I’ve been on since.

…and he would have loved that our book club chose 84, Charing Cross Road as our first book.

Oof.

I just took us on a memory journey. I meant to talk about book club.

Because yesterday I asked my eldest son, who is perhaps an even more ravenous reader than myself if he would like to come to the book club with me.

“I haven’t read the book.” He responded.

So I handed it to him before I went to the gallery to snuggle a dog.

…and he was in the muddy of it when I got back, and nearly done when I awoke from my nap, and he finished it on the 45 minutes drive to Pot Medway where the magical The Rosefinch Post sits.

He came in and we were first to enter and he and I grabbed some beverages (raspberry cordial tea for me, and a 7-Up for him)…and two red velvet cake pops lovingly made.

We sat down with our cake pops.

But we were in the middle of the table and the hustle and bustle of an excited group of book club members overwhelmed him.

So I asked if he’d like to sit less central, and he asked if he’d had to sit at all.

If this had been me, with my parents, they would have made me be polite and civil. I have chosen to parent differently. We explained that he was overwhelmed. And everyone at the table understood.

…and so instead of joining our magical conversation he pulled The Little Prince of the shelves of the shop (my very favourite book in the whole wide world…which is read to him several times as a child, of which I have a line tattooed on my back)…and he sat far away, reading.

…and I joined the lively discussion which began with wondering if Helene and Frank had a romantic subplot (no! Says I!) and moved on to discuss the audio book version and the text, and our different experiences of the book.

Half way through, just as one of our guides had begun some beautiful exploratory sacred text traditions she’d learned at her weekly book club (they read a chapter a week), my kiddo came up to me and told me he’d finished reading The Little Prince…his eyes were teary (it’s such a touching book) and he asked if he could buy the Little Prince Tarot. That he’d been searching for a tarot deck that spoke to his heart for years. (He and his friends love tarot). This was the one, he said.

So I bought him The Little Prince, the book and the tarot deck, and then Audra’s wondrous partner came down to see me punching in the items on the cash register (I used to work there, and still have the key, and like to think of myself as an “always employee” of the Rosefinch)…

…and my kiddo remembered that I’d mentioned cats. He LOVES cats.

So Haritha offered to let my kiddo see my faerie god kitten, Tristan Potato. And for ten minutes my child was in cat heaven. Snuggling a sweet cat, who has never had the ability to see, and watching my 17 year old make that sweet cat feel safe and loved…it assured me that I had made the right choice bringing him last night.

I returned to the group for a moment to hear them telling tales of their favourite penpals, and was almost sad…but I realized that everything had gone just as it was meant to.

That the space had created an indelible memory for my child, of a magical cafe with books, and tea, and people who love reading as much as he.

That last night was one of those nights we will be carrying with us forever. Because it was genuinely magic.

Thank you Audra Williams…for making it possible. For accepting me and my family, just as we are, and for making beautiful things happen.

I know how much work it is, truly, and I see the care and heart you put into that space each and every day.

Thank you for the book club, the memories…and the magic.

Heart,

Wake

The tiny book will be below! But I have to get dressed, take my kid to sushi, and open Curious & Kind for today’s Creative Club.

📚📚📚#78

Tickets, Please

Tiny #78