Tenderbooks has been doing their bit for the rare book scene — for a whole ten years

A little over a year ago, we put out an article entitled 2023: The year rare books got even rarer. Let’s just say we were onto something. Let’s just say that since, a little over a year down the line, that statement is only more true. And who’s been leading the charge? For ten years, no less? Tenderbooks, helmed by founder Tamsin Clark. Nestled in Cecil Court, that bubble of old London where Mozart once bopped about and Aleister Crowley cast spells, sits Tenderbooks. For ten years, Clark has been quietly building something that shouldn’t work but absolutely does — a bookshop where rare art books and DIY zines coexist, without all the pretense. The space feels distinctly anti-algorithm. You won’t find bestsellers or corporate curation here. Instead, Clark stocks “a magazine without words” alongside pocket-sized manuals for shoplifting books (ironic, sure) and hosts events ranging from perfume launches inspired by erotica to intimate author signings.

“A good book is like an artwork you can carry in your pocket,” she says, which pretty much sums up the Tenderbooks vibe. In a city center that’s increasingly “cynical and commercial,” Clark has created what she calls a “supportive community for sharing ideas.” Now celebrating a decade, they’re dropping anniversary collabs with fashion designers and photographers — their limited-edition tee featuring work by Lina Scheynius was just featured in Vogue. Ten years might sound like a long time in independent retail, but as Clark puts it herself, “in so many ways I feel we are just beginning!”

Cecil Court feels frozen in time, yet Tenderbooks plays with contemporary culture. How does that tension work? 

Tenderbooks is part of a unique community. In the heart of central London, the bookstore sits within a whole street of independent shops selling antiques, first editions, vintage clothing and esoteric ephemera. I find much of the city centre increasingly cynical and commercial. In amongst all of that, Cecil Court is immediately distinctive — I think I would find it hard to fit in elsewhere.

Ten years is significant for an independent bookstore. What’s changed most about London’s book culture in that time? 

The art scene in London is changing in many challenging ways and I want our bookstore to be a supportive community for sharing ideas. Since the start we have hosted a busy weekly programme of signings and gatherings. It’s important for our shop to represent the diversity of what’s being published in London and beyond. For instance, just in the last few weeks we have held events for an illustrated map, a new artist monograph, a writing workshop and a collaboration with Jouissance, a new perfume brand inspired by erotic literature. Ten years sounds like a long time but in so many ways I feel we are just beginning! 

The store seems to treat books as objects of design as much as text. Was that intentional? 

I’m interested in printed matter that is thoughtful about the relationship between form and content. Treating the book as an object perhaps sounds a bit reverential — really I think it’s more about tactility and the intimacy of physical engagement with a printed work. With the type of books we like to stock, it often just comes back to how the book feels to hold in your hand. A good book for me is like an artwork that you can carry about in your pocket. 

What are your hidden gems? The zines or books people might miss but shouldn’t?

The Images of Luis Barragan presents a selection of images collected by the Mexican architect Luis Barragan as part of a reference archive that he displayed on a lectern in the living room of his home. Like an open notebook, it’s a fascinating insight into daily practice and a unique way of living with images. BILL is a magazine without words published by designer Julie Peeters. It’s a sumptuous object printed on a dozen different paper stocks. The description of the current issue reads like a poem: ‘Sand, wind, tide, bills, tulips, LA, parking lots, waves, thoughts, bagels, prints, Tokyo, orchids, horses, backs, balm, magazines, updates, shadows, Elena’s shoe, two mudbaths and a garage door…’

A favourite publication is a pocket-sized artist book by David Horvitz that announces itself as a manual for shoplifting books. — seemingly a strange one for me to endorse! But the instructions inside are definitely far from practical, with each turn of the page the instructions become more romantic and zany. For example you might “cook up some garlic in olive oil in the store. Exit with the book while everyone is caught in the ecstasy of the aroma.” This is a great example of how a modest book full of short instructional texts can become an adventure.

A favourite publication is a pocket-sized artist book by David Horvitz that announces itself as a manual for shoplifting books. — seemingly a strange one for me to endorse! But the instructions inside are definitely far from practical, with each turn of the page the instructions become more romantic and zany. For example you might “cook up some garlic in olive oil in the store. Exit with the book while everyone is caught in the ecstasy of the aroma.” This is a great example of how a modest book full of short instructional texts can become an adventure.

You’ve created this space where zines sit alongside rare art books. How do you approach that curation? 

The store is arranged quite intuitively and loosely by theme or subject. I like the idea of customers making chance encounters with material that they might not have seen before. The curation is light touch, and I’m conscious of providing a welcoming space to see lots of printed matter — from affordable handmade zines to scarce collectable editions. We have some special rare books in our cabinets and I’m always excited to share them when someone wants to take a closer look. 

Cecil Court has such literary history. Has that location shaped Tenderbooks’ identity? 

Yes, certainly. The history is not just a literary one. Our location saw the first experiments in silent cinema, Mozart lived opposite, and Aleister Crowley cast a spell in another bookstore down the street. It feels important to be surrounded by history. I also like to think of the bookstore as a kind of moving archive! The central location of Tenderbooks brings with it an incredibly diverse audience of all ages and interests. That really keeps energy and conversations flowing. 

From exhibitions to readings, how do live events extend what a bookstore can be? 

I think a good bookstore should be a relaxing space to encounter a lot of information and ideas in an informal way. There’s an important social aspect at the heart of book culture and the bookstore has a convivial role to play in bringing people together. It’s special for readers to meet writers and vice versa. Our conversation series Tenderchats, hosted live on Instagram by writer Dal Chodha, takes place every few weeks for thirty minutes at lunchtime. It’s an opportunity to listen to a publisher, artist or writer to talk more in-depth about their work and anyone can join without even visiting the shop. 

What sparked your love of books? Was it always rare and art books?

I spent a lot of time in bookstores and libraries when I was growing up. Then I studied Literature and Philosophy, so actually my love of art books came a bit later on. But I’ve always been drawn to the design and materiality of books. On my shelves at home I treasure the Peanuts comics my Grandfather gifted me, the palm-sized Hanuman books my Father collected. And I’m always seeking out the Penguin Modern Poets editions from the 1960s — they’ve got these cover designs with plants and leaves.

You can learn more about Tenderbooks here.