Serendipity Books

Was it a dream or a nightmare? I wandered from room to room with shelves from floor to ceiling and often so close together that I had to turn sideways to make my way between them. I climbed stairs and found more rooms with books arranged alphabetically by author, but with no other signs to show categories or any other sort of organization.
As I wandered, I found desks with computers between the rows where it appears someone must work, but I saw no staff beyond the front room and I was not greeted or even acknowledged during my journey. As I reached what appears to be the back of the store, I found rows of shelves that I couldn’t enter because they were filled with hundreds and hundreds of books still in grocery bags.
During my journey, I found cabinets with drawers full of illustrations, magazine articles, postcards and other assorted artwork, but again no outward indication of what each cabinet contained.
As I pulled books from the shelves to check pricing, the dream turned into a nightmare when I realized that most books in which I was interested seemed to be marked anywhere from $ 75 to $ 250.
I began to fear that if I stayed too long I could be locked in the store overnight and eventually I would claim one of the desks and join the ghosts that seem to work in the store and while the thought was not unappealing, I followed the example of Odysseus and pulled myself away from the siren song of the used and collectible books that was singing out to me from the shelves.
As I exited the store, the rain washed me clean of the dust of centuries of bound volumes.

Serendipity Books– I’d passed over this place many times intending to go in, but one peek through the window (upon the sprawling cavern of books piled high to the ceiling) usually discouraged me– combing through books is hard work! I finally worked up the courage to step in and it was like no «bookstore» I’d ever been to before.
To call Serendipity Books a bookstore seems to do it a disservice. Your experience is foreshadowed by the mossy, creeping vine that sprawls & covers every entrance to the hushed & hallowed interior. This fantastical labrynth is easily overlooked on the bustling-​busy University Avenue; likewise, if you’re in a hurry, this is not the place to stop by. You’ll want (and need) lots of time to sift and search and browse through the 38-​room maze of dusty books, stacked wall-​to-​wall, floor to ceiling.
Serendipity Books probably has every classic/​coveted book out there, in no discernible order. There are out-​of-​print books, books with no print date, old scroll cases, large art frames, esoteric graphic novels, etc. Authors’ books are stacked together when possible, but out of alphabetical order. Henry James sits next to Normal Mailer sits next to Vladimir Nabokov. It feels more like an old bibliophile’s library collection than a bookstore. You think you’re well-​read ’til you walk in– and realize you’ve hardly begun to read at all.
I picked out three books and queried the prices, all of which the storekeeper said could be modestly discounted, as noted below:
99 Novels by Anthony Burgess– $ 150, discounted to $ 100
The Barbary Plague: The Black Death in Victorian San Francisco by Marilyn Chase– $ 26 (retail price)
The Piano Players by Anthony Burgess– $ 35, discounted to $ 30
Now, I won’t give you the prices that these books are going for on Amazon (I don’t want to be turned away from Serendipity the next time I visit) but well… there’s a definitive price difference. I couldn’t fathom the reason for the exorbitant prices & neither could the shopkeeper, but he upheld that «there probably was a reason» for the pricing. Convincing…
Serendipity gets a 3 because any given day of searching could merit a disappointing one or a glowing five (!) depending on what you find. You could find something you absolutely need to have, something you never even knew existed… or you could find absolutely nothing. I don’t think it’s actually possible to find anything by yourself, except through luck. But is it worth the experience? Totally. Serendipity is a gem. A rough-​hewn one, sure, but a rarity nonetheless.
Bottom Line: If there were ever an earthquake, it would totally be death-​by-​books in here.

To call this a bookstore is like calling Neiman-​Marcus a variety store. It’s a treasure trove of books and printed matter, an Aladdin’s cave of wonder and surprise, a book-lover’s bookstore. Take the time to browse and delight in the wonders filling every available space. To those who want a quick-​in-​and-​out, the latest best seller, orderly, labeled stacks – go to Borders. To everyone else who love books and spending hours poking around, this is the place for you. I haunt bookstores the world over, and this is one of my favorites.

While their are many wonderful books in the store, the nasty owner tried to take advantage of me regarding my books, and when he discovered I wasn’t a «mark» he was insulting and very rude. My advice is if you are an ameteur seller, don’t bring your books there or you will get cheated.

This isn’t really a bookstore. If your standards for a bookstore is a place that simply has books to buy, then a garage sale or second hand store could be labeled as a bookstore. My standards for a «bookstore» are a wee bit higher. Perhaps a clear floor to for walking would be nice. And signage to show which categories are where. Maybe employees who don’t go out of their way to avoid you even though you’ve clearly made eye contact with them.
It feels like there are some treasures to be found in this dusty closet bet it’s such an inconvenience to do so.

It could be that there are two kinds of stores in this word: We-​want-​to-​sell [whatever it is] stores and Only-​if-​you-​know-​pretty-​much-​exactly-​what-​you-​want stores. This place is the demented flagship of the latter, for books and related items.
This is one of the oddest cultural institutions in the U.S. It’s like a psychotic, literary Xanadu where one wanders through the cluttered mind of a cranky, highly literate old man where it’s perpetually 1978, wondering whether this is actually a bookstore or an epically vast warehouse/​museum of books where everything is for sale.
Many stars for the inventory, which could be 500,000 (1,000,000?) books, but no stars for the fact that as far as I could tell there is no map for the store and not ONE sign on ANY shelf indicating what or where ANYTHING is. Is that by choice? To make it an adventure? A game? I think this place is for browsers only because NOTHING is marked. Why I have no idea. Do they actually want to sell books? You really begin to wonder that. I lived in Berkeley and drove past this place for something like six months before I realized it was, as least in theory, a book store. I certainly never did when I lived in the city.
You are practically assaulted by the seemingly total lack of regard for the potential book buyer the minute you walk through the door. The misanthropic, wheat-​from-​the-​chaff-​separating feng shui of the main room says «Are you *sure* you want to come in here? Are you *really* sure? Well, then, brave book and/​or poetry lover, enter and… good luck!» followed by crusty laughter, which echoes through the 38 rooms and hallways of this cryptic yet surprisingly undusty warehouse (and I mean warehouse) of books and printed stuff.
There are books all the way up to the ceiling, so absurdly far up (like 27 feet or something) that they are almost guaranteed to never come down. In addition to the shelves, both fixed and (apparently) movable, there are piles of books. Everywhere. There are paper bags and paper bags and paper bags filled with books, on the floor and in the aisles, and there are cabinets filled with prints and folios and ephemera and beetles and god knows what else.
I don’t know if anybody works here. There were some people in front of a computer mumbling in a tongue I did not recognize, and a guy who went into the shipping area (I guess they ship books), but I’m not sure what you do if you find a book you want to buy. I guess you ask somebody and hopefully somebody can tell you.
Must win the prize for the highest ratio of book inventory to sales anywhere. That being said, it’s an orgasmic paradise for the book browser. You could –live– in there for an entire month or more and no one would notice. Something for everybody, to be sure, but how do you find it?
No shortage of books, premises probably haunted, and absolutely bonkers. I appreciate the inventory, probably not as much as others, but what really makes my head spin is its sheer labyrinthine irreverence. All that’s missing are dozens of cats and a skeleton with a copy of «For The Love of God Will Someone Help Me» by M. «Scuttles» Quibbith (first [and only] edition, 1928) in its hands.

First, a small caveat: I haven’t been to Serendipity for a couple of years (too menacing to the bank account, which is already endangered by frequent trips to Amoeba… and I’m not nearly as much of a print junkie as I used to be), so I’ve no idea whether it’s still as good as it was back in the day.
Last time I was there, it was blindingly clear that this is the best bookstore in the Bay Area, and quite likely the best in the known universe. Especially if you’re looking for literary first editions. Where else could you find every novel and story collection by Arturo Vivante? Or Mavis Gallant’s loooooong out of print GREEN WATER, GREEN SKY?
I used to live in a college town (Cambridge, Mass) that has a couple of decent schools, and there used to be a bookstore on every corner. None of them was as good as Serendipity. In the entire county, I doubt there’s a used bookstore that compares with Serendipity. Powell’s? I’ve checked them out on-​line: not even close. Ditto for the Strand, with its storied «18 miles of books».
(I’m planning to make another trip to Serendipity in a couple of months; I’ll let y’all know if it’s still as amazing as ever.)

Since I found this place a couple of months ago I’ve been making the drive up from San Jose every Saturday morning just to peruse the vast wonders of this store for hours at a time. I’ve found at least half-​a-​dozen books I ‘needed’ each visit, which is expensive but gratifying.
Peter (the owner) is really quite nice. He cares a lot about his treasures and has interesting anecdotes about most of them. The prices of some titles are excessive, but I’ve received some great deals too, for which I’m grateful. He works tirelessly on grading and organizing the ever-​growing collection, so I hesitate to needlessly bother him with questions. I feel like a privileged guest to be allowed to browse the stacks in silence. I prefer it to the overly social attendants of some other establishments.
There /​is/​order the the madness, but don’t expect to be handed the book you’re looking for on a silver platter. The instructions will be more like «find it in the far corner of the room with a ‘Beware of the leopard’ sign». But you are virtually guaranteed to find something just as interesting while searching for it.
There is an extensive sci-​fi section, lots and lots of modern first editions, piles of poetry, rare non-​fiction, fine art prints, art books, limited editions, and ancient manuscripts.

Undoubtedly this bookstore boasts some treasures but with twice as many books as shelf space and a chaotic organizational scheme, the treasures tend to be buried and overpriced for their condition. Imagine paper bags stuffed with unshelved books lining narrow walkways and the sounds of a cranky, querulous old man barking orders to his assistant. That’s what you’ll find here, and you ‘ll likely also be reminded of those occasional news stories where the authorities are called to an apartment whose occupants were incapable of throwing anything out. On the other hand, if you need 50 dusty copies of Humboldt’s Gift right now, this is where to get them.

The people who run this place have traditionally not been very nice to me, but the bookstore itself is heaven on earth. One could easily spend months locked away in here and not see everything they had to offer… actually, I’m not sure one would eve notice the passage of time. There’s so much in the piles and on the floor-​to-​ceiling shelves! The not-​quite-​organized bit is part of the charm.

I’m agnostic, but if there is a heaven, I imagine it’s just like Serendipity books: huge, expansive rooms, high ceilings, books from wall to wall and spilled in piles along the floor. There is everything from Homer to Camus to Douglas Coupland. I could spend weeks in here and never get bored. I wish there was a place like this in Phoenix.

This is where some books go after their owners die. Entire collections from eccentric, hotshot geezers from ye olde days of yore. The books are sucked into the black hole of Serendipity which has become a densely-​packed cave of printed matter and pulp. And that’s only part of it. If you have the time and skills to dig around, you’ll find wonderful collections of paintings, prints, old letters, vintage postcards & photographs, private scribbles and rare ephemera. You can lock me in here for a year and I’ll be thoroughly entertained every single day.
Best if you know what you’re looking for before you go, and have some knowledge on price range. This place isn’t cheap, but if you buy more, the owner might be in the mood to give you a good deal. He also has a lot of great stories and additional sidebars that enlighten.
Do not utter the words «amazon dot com» here. I’m also not sure what comes first with the Serendipity experience. The vertigo or hairline fractures from stumbles & falls.

I can hardly believe this place exists, much less that it’s in the Bay Area. It’s the only bookstore I’ve ever seen with movable stacks — I thought they only put those in university libraries, as they’re not exactly cheap.
It’s virtually impossible to find your way around the first time — the maps at the door help you somewhat, but they don’t really explain how the different rooms connect to each other. There are mezzanines on top of mezzanines, and some of the shelves go 25 feet up the wall. And to boot, you’re tripping over shopping bags of uncatalogued loot on the floor.
Some of the stock is listed on the Internet (about 20,000 volumes) but there must be ten times that in the shop. But even with 200,000 plus books to look at, you’re still hard-​pressed to find real bargains, which is (I suppose) a triumph in itself.
P. S. If there’s going to be an earthquake the day you go, you should probably stay home.

This used bookstore is enormous. I can’t believe how many books there are packed into one space. The people there were very nice and helped me find a very rare copy of a book I wanted for a decent price. This is definitley not a bargain store. You will most likely find what you are looking for in the stacks of books. Not the most organized. Plan on doing some sleuthing.

This is the single most amazing place I have ever been! When I dream about getting lost in a maze of forgotten books… this is what it looks like.
There are piles of books everywhere, and bookcases that run to the top of the high ceiling, and secret passageways lined with books, and spiral staircases leading upstaris to more books, and hidden back areas, and a secret map, and a man who knows everything who talks to you about everything, and important people like the head of the NEA, who come in to by archives of esoteric subjects, and many shelves of books on topics like the life of Pushkin, or the travels of 2 victorian ladies in the desert, or flora and fauna of Albania, and discounts if you ask nicely, and its quiet and you are left alone if you want. It smells like books, and feels like books, and you can’t walk without tripping over stacks of books, and its all confusing and overwhelming and marvelous all at once.
James is right… you don’t really go there for service unless you REALLY know what you are talking about, but I think the owner is perfectly curmudgeonly and almost intimidating, as any antiquarian book owner should be. However, when you buy an interesting book, he lights up with questions for you about why you selected it and what you think, and it turns out he is quite nice!