A book love story

By Alfreda de Silva

Second-hand book shops have surprises and treasures for those who take the time and trouble to browse in them. But rarely has an author celebrated one, as American writer Helene Hanff has done, in her book '84, Charing Cross Road.'

It became a least expected best seller and its adaptation for the theatre by James Roose Evans was a great hit on the London stage. Miss Hanff died in 1997 after her racy, inimitable style had won her a regular place on the BBC from where her letters from America were broadcast for a long time.

However, success did not come to her easily and instantly. She won a national playwriting contest when she was 21 and had visions of being a playwright for Broadway. But for the next 10 years nobody produced her plays and she turned to writing children's books.

All that time Helene Hanff continued to buy books from Marks and Co., a book shop specializing in rare old books in London. Her correspondence with Frank Doel of Marks and Co., began in 1949 and lasted till 1969. And it is these letters that have made the remarkable book and stage play, 84, Charing Cross Road.

I had the pleasure of seeing the James Roose Evans' adaptation of 84, Charing Cross Road, in London in the Eighties. Playing Miss Hanff was Rosemary Leach, whom TV audiences in Sri Lanka have seen in Life Begins at Forty. David Swift played Frank Doel.

What is most interesting about this book between writer-collector Helene Hanff and bookseller Frank Doel is its authenticity. It has been described as a real life love story involving books, people and a particular time in history which was the Second World War. It is unbelievable that a collection of letters about books between two people in different continents sharing a common love for them - could be so absorbing. As you read on you get glimpses of their separate lives and the richness of their relationship.

The play's technique and sets get strength from the lack of elaborate detail. The bookshop in London and Miss Hanff's study in New York are juxtaposed with each other, with the spotlight falling now on this set and then on that. Miss Hanff reads in her own style of talking her words, vivaciously. Frank Doel and his staff reply to the letters vocally.

One forgets that there is an ocean between the two locations.
Helene Hanff's first formal letter opens the book:
"14 East 95th St. New York City, October 5, 1949.
Marks & Co.
84, Charing Cross Road,
London W.C. 2
England.
Gentlemen,
Your ad in the Saturday Review of Literature says that you specialize in out-of-print books. The phrase 'antiquarian book sellers' scares me somewhat as I equate 'antique' with 'expensive'. I am a poor writer with an antiquarian taste in books, and all the things I want are impossible to get here except in very expensive rare editions.

I enclose a list of my most pressing problems. If you have clean secondhand copies of any of the books on the list for no more than five dollars each, will you consider this a purchase order and send them to me?
Very truly yours,
(Miss) Halen Hanff"

Back comes Frank Doel's reply from Marks & Co. London:

"Dear Madam,
'In reply to your letter of October 5th we have managed to clear up two thirds of your problem. The Hazlit essays contained in the Nonesuch Press edition of his Selected Essays and the Stevenson is found in Viginibus Puerisque.... haven't the Latin Bible you describe but we have a Latin New Testament.

Yours faithfully
F.P.D. (For Marks & Co.)'

And so the correspondence proceeds. She thanks him for the books, is delighted with them and adds: "Will you translate your prices hereafter? I don't add too well in plain American. I haven't a prayer of mastering bilingual arithmatic".

She puts in a post-script: "I hope 'madam' doesn't mean over there, what it does here?"

Frank replies: "Dear Miss Hanff, Your six dollars arrived safely, but we would feel very much easier if you would send your remittances by postal money order in future as, this would be much safer for you than entrusting dollar bills in the mail."

Occasionally we get outbursts like this from Miss Hanff:

"Well! all I have to say to you, Frank Doel is that we live in depraved destructive and degenerate times, when a bookshop - a Bookshop - starts tearing up beautiful old books to use as wrapping paper. You tore that book up in the middle of a major battle and I don't even know which war it was.

The Newman arrived a week ago. I never saw a book so beautiful.

P.S. Have you got Sam Pepys' diary over there? I need him for long winter evenings.

Helene Hanff."

Gradually we see a bond of friendship and a rare relationship that encompasses not only these two people but also the families of Frank Doel and the members of his staff, who are captivated by this woman, so full of life and warmth. Helene's letters change their form of addressing Marks & Co., from Gentlemen to Frankie and Frank's become dear Helene and end with the words "Love Frank".

This is wartime, and London as well as so many places caught up in it, face food shortages. One of 'Helen's letters ends with the words: "Congratulations on Churchill & Co. Hope he loosens up your rations a little."

But the two extraordinary correspondents never met. In spite of invitations from Frank and his wife and several members of the bookstore staff Miss Hanff's finances don't permit her to go to London till 1971.

But before then she gets the shattering news of Frank's death. Two years later, Helene Hanff's makes her first visit to London on an invitation from the publisher, Andre Deutsch who was responsible for the London edition of 84, Charing Cross Road. She is received by Frank's widow Nora at the airport. They had not met before but had got to know each other through the remarkable correspondence between the writer in New York and the bookseller at 84, Charing Cross Road.

Helene Hanff visited what was left of Marks & Co. And here's how she talks about the long-awaited moment, now turned into a poignant one: 'The window letters had been ripped off the window, a few of these were lying on the window sill, their white paint chipped and peeling. I put my hand on the oak railing and said to him silently: "How about it Frankie? I finally made it?" The place where the book-store existed is marked now by a circular brass plaque.

It reads:"84, Charing Cross Road, the booksellers Marks & Co. were on this site which became famous through the book by Helene Hanff."

Let's just do it

By Prof. J.B. Disanayaka

There are moments when the Sinhalese feel that they have to do something just for the sake of it, like going for a walk, drinking or eating something or doing something.

To express this desire, three kinds of words are needed.

First , verbs ending in - mu, such as ' yamu' (let's go) ' kamu' (let's eat) ' bomu' (let's drink) or ' karamu' (let's do ), second , question words such as ' kohe' (where), 'monava' (what), 'kohoma' (how), 'kavada' (when), and third, the word ' hari'

The word ' hari' will occur after the question word:

Kohe hari yamu: Let's go somewhere, it does not matter where

Kohoma hari yamu: Let's go somehow, does not matter how.

Kavada hari yamu : let's go someday, does not matter when.

Monava hari kamu: Let's eat someting , it does not matter what.

Monava hari bomu: Let's drink something , it does not matter what.

Kohoma hari karamu: Let's do it, does not matter how.

Monava hari karamu: Let's do someting , does not matter what.

Ferocious passion floats into the surreal

By Seneka Abeyratne

Exactly one year ago, the trio from Paris per- formed at the Lionel Wendt and showed us what fine pianists they are. This year's recital was even more satisfying as it included some attractive two-piano works.

The majority of pieces demanded advanced technical, aesthetic and artistic skills. The showpiece was Beethoven's Concerto No. 4 (first movement), played by Shani (solo) and Maciej (orchestral). The lovely runs and trills and recurring melody were rendered with tremendous power and elan. One could see the constant eye contact between Shani and Maciej. They were connected from the word 'go' with Shani playing the dominant role, captivating the audience with her feline touch and brilliant musicality. Maciej gave superb orchestral support and proved that he is a collaborator of the highest calibre.

Earlier in the programme, Maciej played four consecutive solo pieces and wove them together beautifully (Grieg's Nocturne No. 4, Op. 54; Rachmaninov's Etude Tableau No. 5, Op. 39 and Prelude No. 2, Op. 32; and Liszt's Paraphrase du Rigoletto). It was like a cascading stream: tranquil at times, fierce and tumultuous at other times.

Maciej is a "no nonsense" kind of pianist who simply sits down, with his back as straight as a ramrod, and dishes it out. No piece is too difficult for him. Prior to the intermission, he played Mozart's Concerto No. 27 (second and third movements) with Shani giving orchestral support. It was an unforgettable experience, to see this big, tall man with enormous hands playing Mozart with such a light and feathery touch.

Shani played three solo pieces: one by Debussy ("Isle Joyeuse") and two by Chopin (Nocturne No. 1 in C minor, Op. 48 and Ballade No. 4, Op. 52). These are all tough pieces, but how expertly they were handled.

The Debussy piece demands a noble flight of imagination, for the "Isle of Joy" is a place with no taboos. Shani played it with a lovely feline touch and to each of the two Chopin pieces she gave a different interpretation.

The two-piano works performed by Shani and Rika consisted of Bartok's Mikro-kosmos and Saint-Saens' Carnival of the Animals ("Aquarium" and "The Swan"). The sisters attacked Mikrokosmos like two ferocious cheetahs and overpowered us with their passion and technical brilliance. In Carnival of the Animals the audience was indeed transported to another world: the world of dreams and surreal imagery.

Rika played one solo piece — "Libes Lied" by Liszt, which is one of his most lyrical compositions. Her technique was fine and her interpretation, exceptionally good. She had a hand in the two encores as well, playing the two-piano piece with Shani (Hungarian Dance, No. 5 by Brahms) and the four-hands-on-one-piano piece with Maciej (Schubert's Fantasy first movement). Both were full of beauty.

Kala Korner By Dee Cee

Axe in hand, he walked in

Barebodied, axe on his left shoulder, blue checked sarong tucked up, Uruvarige Wanniayala Aththo, the Veddah chief walked into the National Library Services Board auditorium on August 9, World Day of the Indigenous People. He had been invited by his nephew Dambane Gunawardhana as chief guest at the launch of his new book, 'Vedi Gee Vimasuma' , an appreciation of Veddah songs published by Vishva Lekha. Gunawardhena was also releasing the third edition of his first award winning novel, 'Dadabimen Dadabimata', a Dayanwansa Jayakody publication.

Wanniyala Aththo took his place at the high table with environmentalist Sunil Sarath Perera (with whom he had spent the previous night) on his right and Piyasena Kahandagamage, writer of two books ('Bintenne Viththi' & 'Vana Vadule Vasanthaya') on the Veddah community, on his left. "Don't harass us. Allow us to live in peace. Give us the freedom to lead our own lives," he said. "There is lot of talking on days like this but hardly any action." Using the word 'pojja' ever so often, he pleaded we should talk less and do something more useful for his community.

Both Prof. J. B. Disanayaka and Sunil Sarath Perera stressed the need to conserve the songs of the Veddah community. They vividly portray the customs, traditions and the language of the community. Kiribandala Aththo who had also come with the party, entertained us to a couple of 'vedi gee'.

Sunil Sarath who had spent many years studying Veddah life, was convinced the oldest lullaby was sung by the Veddah mothers. Their songs spoke of nature and their ideas flowed from nature. The rivers and the waterfalls, the birdsong were very much a part of their lives.

The sole writer

Young Dambane (T.M) Gunawardhana is the only writer in his community. He is a grandson of the former Veddah chief, Uruwarige Tisahamy. His father, Tennakoon Mudiyanselage Kirbanda is a traditional villager of Bintenna.

Gunawardhana entered the Colombo campus in the early Nineties. His maiden attempt at creative writing, 'Dadabimen Dadabimata' won the first place for the best novel at the competition organised by the Colombo University Vindana Kala Kendra. Dayanwasa Jayakody published it and now the book has gone into the third edition.

He recalled the early days when as a child of two or three years he learnt the words of 'vedi gee'. Wanni Mama (referring to Wanniyala Aththo) and his 'mutta' (grandfather) Tisahamy taught him their meaning as he grew up. The chieftain of the Pollebedda area, Bingoda Mahabandaralage Gomba and schoolteachers in the area helped him to collect the songs for the book.

He paid a glowing tribute to a pioneer who helped to set up a school in Dambana - H. P. D. Jayawickrema, who had arrived in Bibile as a Rural Development Officer in 1946. (Present at the book launch, he was a quiet listener to the praise being showered on him). He had walked 25 miles to get to Dambana. He was Gunawardhana's mother's teacher. "Until he arrived, we didn't know there was something called 'akuru' (letters)," Gunawardhana said.

Gunawardhana in his first book had created a character based on Jayawickrema.

Gunawardhana is a great believer that if one is good and tries to help others, he will never fail in life. He recalled a small incident. "I was walking along the road one day when I noticed a branch from an albizzia tree fallen. I took it and threw it away. Someone noticed my action and brought me a cup of tea. He was grateful." So many people have helped him in return for small things he has done, he said.

After graduation, Gunawardhana went back to his village as a teacher. Now, at 32, unmarried, he continues to teach in a junior school at a nearby village, Talawela. His first book carries a picture of the author barebodied with bow and arrow in hand with a slight beard. That was eight years ago. The new book has a picture of him in national dress with a fairly well-grown beard and long hair.

'Oye Ojaye'

Dambane Gunawardhana, in his book 'Vedi Gee Vimasuma' has hit out at those who try to adapt Veddah songs without studying the originals. In a chapter titled 'Oye Ojaye', he says that one cannot accept some of the attempts made to present such songs in the guise of protecting the original versions.

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