Worst customer service imaginable!!! I came in in a hurry because I needed a gift for a birthday, and this prick of a sales assistant said he wouldn't sell me the book “if I was only going to give it away” again. He went on and on about how she wouldn't appreciate the book if she didn't indicate she wanted it. As if some namby-pamby bookseller knows my mother better than me!
I had to go and buy flowers like a tool who forgot to buy a present!

Hi! I really love this bookshop. It's my favourite! I come here way too often during thesis-time when I have to find a quiet place to calm down and stop thinking about uni. Mr. Fell is super nice (or at least he is since he realized I wasn't just some hooligan there to leave fingerprints on all his books, haha!!!) and let's me read as long as I want. There is another regular who tries to bully me into leaving, but if you're not intimidated by a bit of snark from a guy who thinks he looks imposing by wearing all black, you have nothing to worry about.

Buuuut that's not really why I'm reviewing this. I saw the review from 1800 and realized – holy shit, that's what they are, aren't they? These accounts of people visiting the bookshop through the ages are historic reviews! And I have some!

See, I work part time as a tourist guide for the city, and A.Z. Fell & Co. is a stop on one of my tours. The Historical Association of Soho provided me with contemporary witness testimonies for a bunch of locations, so I have copies of some diary entries and notes from people during WWII who were writing about the bookshop! Let me share them with you.

I'll make one review for each, since these were very different folks and I would feel bad for lumping them all together into one entity.

A note from Robert Miller, assumed to have been a deserter during WWII:

Dear Mr. Fell,

Thank you again for the immense favour you've done me. Not many a man would have, for someone in my position. You risked a lot and had nothing to gain but the gratitude of someone branded as a corner turner. Your bookshop saved my life – I wouldn't have made it with another blanket drill out while the Krauts are laying eggs.

I had a hard time falling asleep with all that on my mind, though. That's why I saw you and your late-night visitor from my window. I assume, you're a friend of Mrs. King, both of you. Don't fret, I'll give your secret the deep six. But you might want to be more careful about being seen with your G.I. friend. (Pretty one, that! Congratulations!)

I know it's hard not to hold a too rousing reception when you finally see your Popsie again, but be sure to take it inside and pull down the blackout curtains next time before you give 'im those dead nuts on-eyes.

When you're reading this, I'll be on my way home to my Daisy, because I have no way to repay you in words or money. Thank you for your kindness. If I ever reach her, my Daisy and me will keep you and your fella in our prayers! I hope he's as happy to have you as I'll be to have her in my arms again.

From the diary of Doreen Lester (I took the liberty to correct the spelling errors):

Dear Diary!
What a day it has been! For the first time since that big bomb went off and we had to run away from home, Mummy and me finally slept in a real bed again! A nice man took us in and we can live in his bookshop! It's closed, but there are so many books! He said, he'll read some to me because I'm so brave!

I was trying to choose one when another man came with a suitcase. I thought he also didn't have a home anymore, but he was really smartly dressed with a hat and a suit and a tie. He hid something from his suitcase and whispered a couple of words to Mr. Fell before he loudly thanked him for “the books” while side-eyeing me (he never even got any books!!!) and then he drove off in a really fancy looking car.

Later at night, after Mr. Fell read me Peter Pan, I sneaked into the shop and looked for what the mysterious man had left there. But it was just some papers with symbols and letters that didn't make words.

It was weird. But I went to sleep and had the best sleep I ever had! (And Mummy said so, too. Even though there were more bombs during the night. But we didn't hear them at all!)

Mr. Fell said not to worry about a thing, and then he read me a story about a bear that is the teddy bear of a boy, but also a real bear. And after that, he made a farthing disappear in his hand and appear in my ear!

I think maybe Mr. Fell is a character from a book that came to life like the teddy bear.