Hello, Bookstore review: Dir. A.B Zax

Hello, Bookstore in Cinemas and On Demand from 30 June

A pitch-perfect documentary, Hello, Bookstore writes a love-letter to the precarious art of bookselling in the 21st century. The Bookstore, located in Lenox, Massachusetts, sells a bohemian blend of old and new titles. Run by owner Matthew (Matt) Tannenbaum since 1976, this store is a fixture in the town: the phone rings constantly, business is good.

But as the impact of Covid-19 is felt, Matt has no option but to shut the doors, and operate through a bizarre series of rituals: customers show their credit card to him through the window; he apologises that they cannot come in to browse. The shelves are packed with books, tantalisingly out of reach. His desire to keep everyone as safe as possible, sees his till numbers plummet. The store is in serious trouble.

Directed by A.B Zax, the film takes us through this crisis point, but as a free-form, extended ‘diary’. Structurally we move from Introduction to Epilogue, each chapter announced with the turn of a page. Tannenbaum, who runs The Bookstore with his daughters, Shawnee and Sophie, not only possesses an encyclopaedic knowledge of books, he converses about them in a way that charms, educates and beguiles.

Tannenbaum is the ideal subject for a documentary: he is never lost for words, or a good story. His taste level is exquisite: Zax’s end credits list the books Tannenbaum mentions, like a soundtrack. Robert Frost, Gustave Flaubert, Jane Smiley and Philip Roth are among those featured. Tannenbaum’s enthusiasm in finding a “book for everyone” is the antithesis of the de-personalised, mass-market approach found in chain bookstores. As we watch customers of all ages welcomed into the shop, Hello, Bookstore mounts a persuasive argument as to why shops like this remain essential. A ‘search’ button can only tell you so much. Tannenbaum wears his expertise lightly: every customer is given the same degree of attention and respect.

The most intriguing part of the documentary is when Zax probes into Tannenbaum’s personal history. A chance recommendation, a friend nudging Tannenbaum towards the work of French novelist Anais Nin, led him to discover the independent book market, specifically the renowned Gotham Book Mart. Opened in 1920 by Frances Steloff, Tannenbaum secured a job there, and learned “the stock viscerally”. The anecdote comes full circle when Tannenbaum proudly mentions how Tom Stoppard visited The Bookstore and complimented him on his shelving technique.

With an emphasis on bookish details, Zax clearly understands his audience. The camera loiters on book spines of every era, long enough to spot a Zadie Smith or a Laurie Lee. There is a sense of time standing still here (only the Bernie Sanders poster dates the interior). It may not have the gloss of a Barnes & Noble, but The Bookstore has earned its place in the community.

We are pulled up sharp, as the film jolts back into shots of face masks and hand sanitiser. As the bills mount, a Go Fund Me campaign is launched to save The Bookstore. Tannenbaum is cool under pressure; entertaining a reporter by reciting passages of John Crowley’s Little, Big from memory. The question is whether it will all be too little, too late.

This romantic delve into the world of books makes Hello, Bookstore damn near irresistible to anyone with an interest in reading. Zax does the wise thing and lets Tannenbaum free-associate straight to camera; whether it’s a longer story or a brief aside. The warmth and generosity of Tannenbaum’s voice is not just experience talking, it’s a narrative on the importance of providing continuity and connection. Knowing the odds, and still choosing optimism.