Around 2005, a young kid named Cassius tried to steal a graphic novel from Dog Eared Books in San Francisco’s Mission District. He slipped the book under his jacket and headed for the door, but a bookseller caught him. The kid burst into tears. Ryan, who has worked at the store for more than twenty years, still remembers the moment. They scolded the kid. They made it clear he couldn’t do that. And then they gave him the book.
These days Cassius is grown—“a tall, handsome adult,” Ryan told me—but he still drops by the shop when he visits his mom. It’s a small story, but it says a lot about Dog Eared Books, a small store, packed tightly into a corner of Valencia Street. It’s warm, human, a little chaotic, and inseparable from its neighborhood. That reflection of the neighborhood is why they always seem to have exactly the right book.
For a few years, I took part in a monthly book club devoted to NYRB Classics, hosted by Dog Eared. They always had a dedicated shelf to the Classics series, but more than that, the shelves always held unexpected delights: European novellas, lost modernists, odd little translations that felt unlikely to be found anywhere else. Ryan explained the secret: “The books we have on the shelves reflect the community.”
Most of Dog Eared’s used inventory comes directly from the Mission’s readers, people bringing in the books they’ve finished or no longer have room for. The result is a kind of literary ecosystem. The neighborhood supplies the raw material. The booksellers shape it. Dog Eared has always leaned into that treasure-hunting culture. From the beginning, the store blended used books with new titles and remainders—publisher overstock discovered through the kinds of scavenger hunts booksellers love. “You have to enjoy looking for treasure if you work at a used bookstore,” Ryan said.
But the real work is curation. With such a small footprint, nearly every book has to earn its place. “Ninety percent of the job is picking the right books,” Ryan told me. Luckily, San Francisco gives them the freedom to take risks. “It’s a literate city. Thank goodness.” Just as important, the store avoids the trap that sinks many used bookstores: snobbery. “We’ve done a pretty good job not being jerks,” Ryan said with a laugh.
The result is a place that’s tidy enough to browse, adventurous enough to surprise you, and welcoming enough that even a kid caught stealing comes back, year after year after year. Our NYRB Classics book club has since gone online as members moved to other locales, and the store has changed owners, but whenever I’m in San Francisco, Dog Eared is still the first place I go. It’ll no doubt have exactly the book I didn’t know I was looking for.
Scott Lambridis is a novelist based in Bellingham, Washington. A former indie press founder, performance series organizer, olive farmer, and progressive rocker, he studied neurobiology at the University of Virginia, earned an MFA from San Francisco State University, and read a book from every country in the world. His debut novel, St. Ulphia’s Dead, is forthcoming from Regal House Publishing on July 7, 2026. Learn more at scottlambridis.com
