Crammed thoughts on a bookshop

Usually when settling down to write a bookshop blog I'll take a little time to think about my visit before I start typing, but there are so many different random thoughts crammed into my head in relation to this week's destination that instead I'm winging it. The words will appear however they land and hopefully something will make sense between now and whenever I finish writing.

Which is rather appropriate, because this week I'm writing about the most crammed bookshop I have ever visited, and if you take a look at the index of this blog you'll know I've visited more than a few.

Hurlingham Books is a relatively small secondhand bookshop found on a slightly out of the way road in Fulham. It's one of many of what I think of as my early blog years bookshops, places I first heard of back in 2013 but struggled to manage to visit. Instead I'd looked it up on maps, visited its website, seen it on social media, and read countless random comments by people who had visited both it and its nearby book warehouse. Having been on countless bookshop crawls around London, I almost got there a few times but could never quite make it work with geography or the navigation of buses and trains.

Which is a roundabout way of saying this was a bookshop that had been on my mind a lot over the last decade plus.

I'm therefore rather ashamed to admit the bookshop hadn't even crossed my mind when eventually, in early 2025, I found myself spending two nights in a cheap hotel in Fulham. I was only there because The Boy bribed me to join him at a concert by promising me we wouldn't have to get the last train home from London; we would get to take part in Fulham Palace parkrun; and we'd be staying near Putney Bridge (bridges are fascinating). The fact he didn't attempt to bribe me with a bookshop and I didn't remember such a memorable one on my must-visit list is incomprehensible. But there we are.

Fortunately, us accidentally turning the wrong way out of Putney Bridge tube station meant we quickly found ourselves walking past a short row of windows filled with the spines of books. We only had small suitcases but it was the perfect opportunity to stop and stare, fascinated by the display in front of us.

At this time, I was so busy staring at the books I didn't notice the small lightbox to the right of one window, all I saw was the sign above, for 91 Fulham High Street. I had no clue what we were looking at but vowed we would be returning the next morning to take a look inside this bookshop with no name. Yes, I know the sign's pretty obvious in the photo, but I was tired at the end of our journey, keen to check into our hotel (I can't be the only one who won't believe they've booked their hotel until they're actually in the room?) and – knowing me – I was probably also distracted by the need to find dinner.

We headed off, confirmed we really had got a hotel to stay in (barely two minutes' walk from the bookshop) and found somewhere to eat in a nearby pub (almost next door to the bookshop). In case you're not getting it, our entire stay in Fulham ended up being confined to a very small area and we loved it. Why venture further if you're after a short break and are lucky enough to be staying in just the right spot?

The next day we returned to find the front door open and I finally spotted the name "Hurlingham Books" in the window, the penny dropped and I remembered all those years of bookshop longing. I couldn't believe I was finally here and I couldn't wait to step inside.

As you can see, stepping inside is pretty restricted. This is a very full bookshop. I've seen piles of floor to ceiling books before, but Hurlingham really does bear no comparison to the next fullest bookshop I can think of. The above picture is the view from the doorstep, and while it may look spacious, it was only just possible for the two of us to pass each other once we were in. Which made things all the more interesting when you take into account the other customer and allow space for the bookseller, who could be found almost at the end of what is best described as a swirl of footpath between the books. Even that's misleading, the whole walkway can't have been more than four metres in length and I'm wary I could be over-exaggerating.

The bookshop itself is probably standard-sized for a small shop space. The volume of books it contains means walk space is probably even less that that of the smallest bookshop I've ever visited. And yet not once did I feel hemmed in or overwhelmed, such was the treasure trove on offer. Somehow despite the fullness of the bookshop titles kept grabbing my attention.

It was in this way that I spotted my purchase, which was also the very first title I saw when I stood on that above bit of floor and turned to my right. There at exactly head height (for me) was The Quincunx by Charles Palliser. Yes, it is a big book so it did have more chance than most of standing out, but it's also got a dark spine and the gold of the lettering can appear quite dark depending on the angle of light – I know this because I often miss it on my bookshelf when looking for my next read. See Exhibit A (which is admittedly a little staged):

I was excited to spot the book because it had been on my must-buy list since a rather random Teams call I had with a distant bookish contact during the pandemic. I'd enjoyed the chat about work and I'd been fascinated by the recommendation, so the memory stuck with me until such time as I could stumble across it (I try not to order books if I can help it, this blog means I'll eventually find what I'm looking for and I've learned to be patient). The fact the book keeps hiding in plain sight on my bookcase means I've still not read it, but ownership is a good start and for £3 it's not an expensive delay. Having now taken it from the shelf to photograph, I'm leaving it on the dining table ready to catch my attention next time I need a new start.

But back to the bookshop. Finding my purchase so quickly left me at leisure to explore the rest of the stock, which feels like it includes everything you could possibly imagine. Fiction was extensively varied, non-fiction appeared to cover all the usual topics and more, and at the very end of my short, enclosed walk I found a wonderful collection of slightly old science fiction. Had I not been travelling by train and already chosen a book larger than a brick, a few of those would definitely have been added to my suitcase.

There being another customer who chose the same time as me to want to pay, I didn't spend long chatting to the bookseller and I didn't have time to ask about visiting the legendary book warehouse that's apparently located just 10 minutes away. This could be considered yet another oversight on my part, I see it as an excuse to return.

Hurlingham Books
91 Fulham High Street, London, England, SW6 3JS