Falling Down the Rabbit Hole at Rhino Booksellers

“If you get turned around, follow Charlotte,” many first-time patrons of Rhino Booksellers are advised.

Charlotte knows the twists and turns of the 5,000 square foot store, easily leading customers from glass cases of leatherbound first editions to a dark backroom filled, floor to ceiling, with pocket sized paperbacks.

Anyone who feels particularly grateful for her guidance can reward her with a scratch behind the ears or maybe a tummy rub, if she likes you enough.

She won’t meow, though; almost as if she knows this place means peace and quiet for the people who come here.

“You’d never see that in a Barnes and Noble,” one customer notes, smiling down at the smoke-colored cat, already winding her way through the store again.

And that’s sort of the point.

Rhino Booksellers is one of many independent bookstores weathering the storm of Amazon’s world domination and, armed with unique books and an eccentric store atmosphere, their success seems assured.

Sandwiched between a Chinese restaurant and a yoga studio, a passerby might easily miss Rhino Booksellers, if not for the large hand painted sign out front.

“BOOKS,” it proclaims in big red and white letters, with the words “75,000 TITLES” crammed into the space on top.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” laughs employee Reid Barber. “Once you get the organizational system down, though, it’s easier to find specific books.”

A claim that seems impossible when faced with the towering shelves that take up every inch of the store. The aisles press so close together, two people can’t pass each other comfortably.

Most customers keep up a steady refrain of “Excuse me, pardon me” as they peruse the shelves.

And, despite news reports and online articles bemoaning the end of bookstores as we know it, there are customers.

“We have people we see here pretty regularly,” says Barber, a longtime customer himself before landing the job two years ago. “On a good day, there’s about 50 people coming through here.”

All paying customers?

“Oh yeah,” he grins. “It’s pretty rare that someone walks out of here without buying something.”

The store stock doesn’t limit itself to literature, however.

“The record section is sort of an unexpected draw for people,” says Cora Wingate, another employee who started out as a customer. “They come in, not looking for vinyl, and then find something they listened to in high school and pick it up.”

The records may bring in some people, but the books remain the main attraction.

They sit on shelves that reach the ceiling and range from a practically perfect first edition copy of “The Age of Innocence” to a beat-up movie novelization of “Lara Croft: Tomb Raider.”

The genre sections vary just as wildly. A shelf of cookbooks faces a wall full of dimestore paperback mysteries. A small section of sex books, banished to a shelf at floor level, sit under an assortment of books written by the Beat poets — for some reason, a whole aisle separates them from the other poetry books.

“We’ve got a little of everything,” Barber shrugs.

Every book at Rhino arrives second hand, coming to the store through sale or barter.

“People call up and say ‘I’ve got this collection, can I bring them in?’ and we look through them,” explains Wingate. “If we like what we see, we’ll set a price.”

Other local independent bookstores do not run on the chance acquisitions of used books, but they still share the underdog mentality of the employees at Rhino Booksellers.

“Amazon is something we’re very conscious of,” says Courtney Stevens, a Parnassus Books employee and author in her own right. “I mean, sure, it’s convenient, but it’s impersonal. We provide a service that Amazon never could by making recommendations and knowing our customers the same way your barista might know your coffee order.”

Amazon has taken down chain bookstores like Borders, who shut their doors permanently in 2011, and Barnes and Noble, who continue to combat their own decline in business by expanding their music sections and offering a selection of toys, puzzles and movie and TV show memorabilia.

However, independent bookstores seem ready to fight back.

The number of independent bookstores in the United States grew by 35% between 2009 and 2015, according to NPR.

“People love rising up and buying local,” says Stevens. “It’s sort of a personal pride thing.”

Parnassus Books, opened in 2011, prides itself on its reputation as a place where people can find unique books.

“A big draw of Parnassus is the diversity of the books we stock,” says Stevens. “We have books you can’t find at the big box stores.”

Barber agrees.

“People like finding unexpected things,” he gestures vaguely at the shelves in front of him, a handful of customers perusing the stacks. “It’s rare that you go into a Barnes and Noble and find something surprising.”

And while some customers enjoy stumbling across hidden gems, others come with clear goals in mind.

“Do you have any more from this collection?” a woman holds up a blue hardback that wouldn’t look out of place in a period piece.

Wingate hustles off to find said books and returns in just shy of a minute, all without a map — an impossibility for anyone but a seasoned pro.

“Oh, I was really looking for books from just American authors,” the woman frowns.

“Ah, and this guy is Danish,” Wingate sighs, studying the cover. “I’ll look again. I might have missed some. After being here awhile, you kind of stop noticing them.”

A lot of things start to escape notice here after a bit of time.

“How long have I worked here?” Wingate mused earlier, elbows on the counter. “Three years? Three and a half?”

“Two,” Barber chimes in, not looking up from the book in his hands.

“Huh,” Wingate smiles. “Feels like longer.”

Time seems more elastic here, a few minutes browsing the shelves turning into an hour and a half of repeatedly circling the store in an attempt to not miss any overlooked treasures.

However, losing track of time doesn’t top the list of things that give the patrons of Rhino Booksellers the feeling they’re fallen down the rabbit hole.

How about the labyrinth of shelves, some with mirrors behind them that spook customers when they catch an unexpected glimpse of their own movements?

Or maybe the sound of doors opening and closing — though no one seems to come or go from the store.

Or maybe even the step stools cluttering up aisles, step stools no one ever seems to use — perhaps customers fear pulling out a book too vigorously and causing the shelves to topple like dominos.

And, of course, Charlotte.

“The more books you buy, the more likely it is she’ll let you pet her,” Wingate says conspiratorially to a woman as she rings up her purchases.

They both laugh as they watch Charlotte, who in turn watches them from a stack of books by the front window.

As the woman turns to leave, Charlotte leaps from her perch to the counter and looks expectantly at her.

“See?” Wingate laughs. “I told you!”

Eat your heart out, Amazon.