84 Charing Cross Road

My neighbor Saskia gave me the book 84 Charing Cross Road for my birthday, and, as Saskia said I would, I fell in love with Helene Hanff, the author. The book is actually a very short collection of letters sent over about a 20 year span right after WWII between Hanff and the chief purchaser for a bookstore in London. It also includes a short story written after Hanff finally made it to London, years after her letter writing ended.
One, I think I loved it partially because it gave me a feel for an era that i really know very little about (I was actually quite surprised to realize how surprising it was for me that the dollar used to be so much more valuable than the pound).
Two, it made me totally fall in love with this woman who seems to embody so much of one of the versions of me that i always imagine I will grow into. She is the single, poor writer living in NYC (though i've never had a desire to live there...) who really writes just how you would imagine she speaks. very self-defacing, at the same time quite haughty and sure of herself. very comical. very sarcastic. seemingly with tons of friends but yet she seems to need quite a bit of time for herself. totally intimidating in her knowledge of literature (but then also, she admits that she just knows a little bit of literature very well). and so freaking witty (what i of course aspire to be...can you aspire to be witty? or are some people just naturally witty?)

Hmmm...this isn't a particularly great book review. nor do i really know where I want to go next with this blogpost. But, maybe I just wanted to recommend the book for anyone looking for a charming short read. that's all i have got...