Whether it’s handwritten medieval manuscripts or kisvei yad from gedolei Yisrael, Israel Mizrahi's bookstore is a virtual paradise

Photos: Itzik Roytman, Personal archives

The white decal on the door of 3114 Quentin Road in the Marine Park section of Brooklyn, New York, reads “Lifschitz Realty.” Should you want visual confirmation of that fact, you’re out of luck; plastered to the locked glass door is an Israeli flag so sun-bleached, its blue stripes are pink, and the view through the full-length glass windows alongside it is obscured by tall, almost-empty bookcases.

If you ring the bell and are let in, the security measures up front make a little more sense as you find yourself standing in a modern-day Cairo Geniza. Its proper name is Mizrahi Bookstore, and to be fair, if you take another look at the front door, you might notice a small paper affixed to it with Scotch tape making that claim.

This is no place for the claustrophobe: The space is a warren of books, many on shelves but thousands more in tall stacks sprouting from the floor. There is barely enough aisle width to put one foot in front of the other as you try to navigate your way through.

Proprietor Israel Mizrahi is quite familiar with the shocked look on your face.

“Don’t worry, the chaos in here is controlled,” he greets you.

If you’re surefooted enough to make it to the back, you will be treated to the Kodesh Hakodoshim: Mizrahi’s office, home to the rarest and most valuable books, manuscripts, and documents in his collection. It is a literal sea of bound publications, leaving little room to stand. Don’t bother bringing your coffee cup with you; there will be nowhere to put it down.

While technically a bookstore, the moniker is just the humblest hint of Mizrahi’s enterprise. Handwritten medieval manuscripts, first-edition seforim from the earliest days of printing, correspondence, chiddushim, and kisvei yad of gedolei Yisrael spanning hundreds of years and every corner of the Jewish globe are bought and sold here daily.

“I’m not the bookstore for your kids’ school seforim lists,” he says with a small smile.

The 36-year-old father of five has lived all his life within the same few blocks in Flatbush. His father, Shlomo, immigrated to the US from Syria in the 1960s; his mother, Batsheva, came from Morocco in the 80s. At home, Hebrew was the language of choice.

“I’ve always been a huge reader,” Mizrahi says. “I’ve been reading books in Hebrew since my earliest childhood, which turned out to be a huge advantage in my work.”

By the time he married his Jerusalem-born wife Rivka Bensaadon at age 20, Mizrahi had amassed quite a collection of books. He was in kollel at the time, and would spend about an hour a day selling his used books online.

“Then a friend told me his grandfather’s personal library was for sale, and I bought the entire lot to sell,” he remembers. “One library led to another, and of course books require space, so here we are — even if I wanted to retire today, I truly don’t see a way out,” he says in all seriousness.

That’s it. For all the history contained within its walls, the history of the store itself is rather sparse.

But the diehards don’t mind. They come for the resources, the camaraderie, the company of like-minded people — and the proprietor.