Midnight at the Bright Ideas bookstore A novel

Matthew Sullivan, 1970-

Book - 2017

"When a bookshop patron commits suicide, his favorite store clerk must unravel the puzzle he left behind in this fiendishly clever debut novel from an award-winning short story writer. Lydia Smith lives her life hiding in plain sight. A clerk at the Bright Ideas bookstore, she keeps a meticulously crafted existence among her beloved books, eccentric colleagues, and the BookFrogs--the lost and lonely regulars who spend every day marauding the store's overwhelmed shelves. But when Joey Molina, a young, beguiling BookFrog, kills himself in the bookstore's upper room, Lydia's life comes unglued. Always Joey's favorite bookseller, Lydia has been bequeathed his meager worldly possessions. Trinkets and books; the detritus... of a lonely, uncared for man. But when Lydia flips through his books she finds them defaced in ways both disturbing and inexplicable. They reveal the psyche of a young man on the verge of an emotional reckoning. And they seem to contain a hidden message. What did Joey know? And what does it have to do with Lydia? As Lydia untangles the mystery of Joey's suicide, she unearths a long buried memory from her own violent childhood. Details from that one bloody night begin to circle back. Her distant father returns to the fold, along with an obsessive local cop, and the Hammerman, a murderer who came into Lydia's life long ago and, as she soon discovers, never completely left."--

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Subjects
Genres
Mystery fiction
Published
New York : Scribner 2017.
Language
English
Main Author
Matthew Sullivan, 1970- (author)
Edition
First Scribner hardcover edition
Physical Description
328 pages ; 24 cm
ISBN
9781501116841
Contents unavailable.
Review by New York Times Review

EVERY 16th-century savant and scholar and crackpot aspired to study in Prague under great minds like the astronomer Johannes Kepler and the court mathematician, Tycho Brahe. As a novice in the occult arts, Christian Stern, the young narrator of Benjamin Black's WOLF ON A STRING (Holt, $28), is desperate to extend his studies in that "capital of magic." But no sooner does he arrive in the city, in the winter of 1599, than he comes upon the corpse of a well-dressed woman, savagely murdered and dumped in the snow. Her grieving father warns Christian to travel on to Dresden or some other center of learning. "Prague is no place for you," he's told. "Here everything is tainted and sick." Because of his name, which, in the view of the learned if eccentric Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II, marks him as a messenger sent by Christ, Christian is invited to court and is even housed in the same room once used by Dr. John Dee, a master alchemist "steeped in the mysteries of the kabbalah." There's not much magic in this tale and Christian never gets a chance to study the occult arts, but he encounters plenty of intrigue, enough to convince this naive hero that he's landed at "the center of an intricately devised, immensely subtle and cruelly malicious game." He's introduced to Turkish coffee (which hits him like "a bolt of lightning") by the papal nuncio, seduced by the emperor's concubine and charged by the emperor with finding the murderer. John Banville's novel "Kepler" was published in 1981. Now, using the pen name he has adopted for his mystery novels, he returns to this exciting era when science and superstition were battling for supremacy He even gives the emperor and Christian an opportunity to discuss the "living, harmonious continuum" that connects "the countless parts of creation." The ornate style of Christian's narrative suits both this rich historical period and the courtly language of Prague, this "city of masks and make-believe." DON WINSLOW'S New York cop novel THE FORCE (Morrow/HarperCollins, $27.99) is a scorcher, and if his sources are on the level it's time for another Knapp Commission. Winslow's charismatic hero, who is also the chief villain, is Detective First Grade Dennis John Malone, proud leader of the Manhattan North Special Task Force, which has recently made the biggest heroin bust in memory They own the city these roughnecks whose minds are deep in the gutter and whose language is as ripe as rotten fruit. But they're also crooked, having taken 50 kilos of heroin and close to $2 million in cash from that same haul. Just because these detectives are crooks doesn't mean they can't police their turf. In fact, the task force handles quotidian misdeeds like regular gentlemen, and the way Malone deflects an all-out gang war is genius. Like so much else in the story (the Christmas envelopes of cash, the payoffs to the wiseguys, even the turkey giveaway), Malone's methods are thoughtful and inventive. They just aren't entirely lawful. ST. denis, the picturesque town in the French countryside where Martin Walker sets his enchanting mysteries, is blessed, and occasionally burdened, with a history that dates back to the early cave dwellers. In THE TEMPLARS' LAST SECRET (Knopf, $25.95), an unknown woman falls to her death while scaling the cliff to Commarque, a medieval fortress that was once a stronghold of the Knights Templar. Bruno Courreges, the chief of police, learns that the last master of this very rich order was burned at the stake in Paris in 1314, and legend has it that there's buried treasure at this local landmark. Meanwhile, excavations in search of prehistoric caves continue at the base of the cliff, and a medieval mystery will gum up the works at the dig, where a Venus fertility figurine has recently been found. It's Bruno's firm belief that food is "a village policeman's secret weapon," but with so much going on, he's hard-pressed for time to cook one of his fabulous feasts. As the current owner of Commarque observes, "Sometimes I wonder if we don't have too much history here in France." if you can pass up a mystery with a bookstore in the title, you have great willpower. Personally, I couldn't resist Matthew Sullivan's MIDNIGHT AT THE BRIGHT IDEAS BOOKSTORE (Scribner, $26), an appealing first novel featuring Lydia Smith, a kindhearted Denver bookseller with a soft spot for the homeless men who haunt the aisles. (BookFrogs, she calls them, since to her they resemble Jeremy Fisher, Beatrix Potter's lanky frog.) But Lydia's favorite, a "shattered young man," hangs himself in an alcove and leaves her all his earthly possessions, including a crate of books defaced in a way that sends her a message about himself - and her own horrid history The oddball characters and layered plot make this puzzle mystery both charming and challenging. Keep an eye out for a childhood friend of Lydia's who went to their fourth-grade Halloween party in a red dress with a fake knife in her chest, declaring that she was "Annie, only stabbed." Marilyn STASIO has covered, crime fiction for the Book Review since 1988. Her column appears twice a month.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 25, 2017]
Review by Booklist Review

As Denver's Bright Ideas Bookstore is closing for the day, bookseller Lydia Smith finds Joey Molina, a favorite customer, hanging in the third-floor history section with a photo of Lydia as a child in his pocket. The narrative has two avenues to explore: Joey's past and motivation for suicide, and Lydia's childhood trauma caused by a still-unsolved crime. (Twenty years earlier, when she was 10 and on a sleepover at a friend's house, Lydia was the sole survivor when a killer who became known as Hammerman bludgeoned to death Lydia's friend and her friend's parents.) Lydia discovers that Joey left an intricate set of clues for her in books, which have always provided her comfort and solace; her librarian father raised her alone after her mother died in childbirth, moving her away and changing their last name after the crime. Lydia finds that answers go back years and swirl around her best childhood friend, Raj Patel, whose parents run a combination gas station and donut shop. This quirky debut novel will have particular appeal for puzzle solvers and booklovers.--Leber, Michele Copyright 2017 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Sullivan's solid first novel opens with 30-year-old bookseller Lydia Smith finding the corpse of Joseph Molina hanging from a beam in Denver's Bright Ideas Bookstore. The lonely 20-something ex-con spent countless hours wandering the shop, but Lydia can't fathom why he chose to commit suicide there-or why he died with a photograph of Lydia's 10th birthday party in his pocket. Her confusion grows when she inherits Joey's belongings and discovers coded messages addressed to her hidden inside his books. Lydia's efforts to answer the questions surrounding Joey's death uncover clues to a cold case from her own past-a household massacre that only Lydia survived. Flashbacks to Lydia's childhood told from her father's perspective help build the tension. Quirky characters and a keen sense of place distinguish this multigenerational tale of abandonment, desperation, and betrayal. Sullivan's writing occasionally calls too much attention to itself and a surfeit of coincidence strains credulity, but this inventive and intricately plotted mystery still largely satisfies. Agent: Kirby Kim, Janklow & Nesbit. (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

DEBUT Sullivan, a former bookseller, sets his first novel at a fictional independent bookstore in Denver. Lydia loves to recommend titles and is patient with the sometimes difficult regulars who frequent the store. When one of her favorites, a disturbed young man named Joey, commits suicide during her closing shift, she is devastated; she is also confused by the personal library he left her. Lydia, herself a survivor of a violent childhood crime, has spent her life running from her past. As she tracks down the clues Joey left for her in his books, she discovers a connection between her nightmarish attack years before and Joey's troubled youth. Not only must she face the secrets she has buried, but the murderer who almost killed her is still out there. VERDICT Though darker than other beloved novels set in bookstores, this story will appeal to fans of Gabrielle Zevin's The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry and Katarina Bivald's The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend. Mystery readers will also appreciate the clever connections between the characters and the crimes. [See Prepub Alert, 1/3/17.]-Catherine Lantz, Univ. of Illinois at Chicago Lib. © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

A woman must revisit a 20-year-old tragedy after a young man commits suicide in the bookstore where she works.Lydia Smith loves her job at the Bright Ideas bookstore in Denver, puttering among the shelves and hovering over her gentle BookFrogs, the wanderers and dreamers who spend their days among the stacks. When one of her BookFrogs, Joey Molina, hangs himself in the store, she's devastated and then shocked when she learns he's bequeathed his meager possessions to her. When she discovers that he's left messages to her in the pages of his books, she's puzzled and begins trying to piece together his last days with the help of his friend Lyle. The reappearance of her childhood friend Raj Patel soon puts Joey on the back burner, however, as questions about her estranged father come to light. It all points back to the Hammerman, who, while Lydia was on a sleepover as a child, brutally killed her friend and her friend's family with a hammer, leaving Lydia alive, hiding under the sink. The Hammerman was never caught, and Lydia seeks answers from the now-retired detective who handled the case, but she may not want to hear what he has to say. Turns out he always suspected her father was the killer but was stopped from pursuing that path, even in the face of some compelling evidence, and he's never let go of his suspicion. After all, why did the killer let Lydia live after killing a 10-year-old girl and her parents, and could Joey somehow be connected? Debut author Sullivan presents a nicely paced tale about a horrifying incident with a woman at its core who must put aside her ordered life to find out what really happened all those years ago, where the truth, in the end, may be stranger than fiction. An intriguingly dark, twisty story and eccentric characters make this book a standout. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore CHAPTER ONE Lydia heard the distant flap of paper wings as the first book fell from its shelf. She glanced up from the register, head tilted, and imagined that a sparrow had flown through an open window again and was circling the store's airy upper floors, trying to find its way out. A few seconds later another book fell. This time it thudded more than flapped, and she was sure it wasn't a bird. It was just past midnight, the bookstore was closing, and the final customers were checking out. Lydia was alone at the register, scanning a stack of paperback parenting books being bought by a teenage girl with pitted cheeks and peeling lips. The girl paid in cash and Lydia smiled at her but didn't say anything, didn't ask what the girl was doing alone at a bookstore this late on a Friday night, didn't ask when she was due. When the girl got her change, she met Lydia's eyes for a moment, then rushed out without any bookmarks. Another book fell, definitely somewhere upstairs. One of Lydia's comrades, a balding guy named Ernest who walked like a Muppet but always looked sad, was standing by the front door, guiding the night's final customers into Lower Downtown. "Are you hearing that?" Lydia said from across the store, but her voice was too quiet and anyway Ernest was occupied. She watched him unlock the door he'd just locked to let in a clubbing couple who looked drunk. "They need to pee," Ernest said, shrugging in Lydia's direction. Outside, a few scruffy BookFrogs lingered on the flagstone sidewalk, zipping up backpacks and duffels, drinking from gallon jugs of water they'd refilled in the bathroom. One had a pulp crime paperback crammed in his back pocket. Another had a pencil on a string tied to his belt loop. They stood together but none of them spoke, and one by one they slumped separately into the city, off to sleep in a run-down basement in Capitol Hill, or on a bench in Union Station, or in the sticky cold of Denver's alleys. Lydia heard another faint flapping. Definitely a falling book, followed by a few more in rapid succession: flap-flap-flap. The store was otherwise quiet. "Upstairs empty?" she said to Ernest. "Just Joey," Ernest said, but his eyes were fixed on the corner of zines and pamphlets that flanked the bathrooms where the drunk couple had just disappeared. "Do you think they're screwing in there?" "He knows we're closed?" "Joey?" he said. "You never know what Joey knows. He asked after you earlier, by the way. It may have been the longest conversation we've ever had. 'Seen Lydia?' I was touched." Most days Lydia made a point of tracking Joey down wherever he'd settled into the store--a corner table in the coffee shop, or the former church pew in the Spirituality section, or even under the Story Tree in Kids--to see what he was reading and how he was feeling and whether any odd jobs had come his way. She had a soft spot for the guy. But tonight she'd gotten caught in the store's after-dinner rush and never tracked him down. "Lyle is with him, right?" Lydia said. Though decades apart in age, Joey and Lyle were all but inseparable, like two halves of one smart and awkward beast. "No Lyle. Not tonight. Last I saw, Joey was all alone in History. He had masking tape on his fingers." "On his fingers?" "I think he must've cut himself or burned himself. Made bandages with Kleenex and tape." He looked at his watch. "He's not a crackhead, is he? They're always burning fingers." Lydia heard another fluttering book. The store occupied three cavernous floors, and when it was quiet like this, sound traveled between them as if through an atrium. She imagined Joey all alone lobbing books up there, some kind of bibliomancy or I Ching toss. She'd be the one to stay late and reshelve them. "Count the drawer for me?" "Goddamned couple," Ernest said, coming around to the register without unpeeling his eyes from the bathrooms. "They've gotta be screwing in there." Lydia crossed the store's gritty floors and headed up the wide, tiered staircase that reached through the building like a fattened spine. Ernest had gone through earlier and turned off most of the overhead lights upstairs, so she felt as if she were climbing into an attic. "Joey?" The second floor was quiet, shelf upon shelf of books standing still. She continued to the third. "Joey?" Joey was the youngest of the BookFrogs, and by far Lydia's favorite. This wouldn't be the first time that she or one of her bookselling comrades had done a final sweep at closing and found Joey knocking books off the shelves, searching for a title that may or may not have actually existed. His glossy hair would be draped over his eyes, and he'd be wearing black jeans and a black knit sweater with the collar just low enough to see the top of his tattooed chest. The wooden floors around his feet would be spread with books about subjects as far-reaching as his thoughts: Sasquatch sightings and the Federal Reserve, Masonic rites and chaos theory. He was a shattered young man, Lydia often thought, haunted but harmless--a dust bunny blowing through the corners of the store. She liked having him around. "Joey?" The third floor was dim and peaceful. Lydia stepped into a familiar warren of tall wooden shelves and followed their angles and branches into different alcoves and sections, each holding a chair or a couch, a table or a bench: Psychology, Self-Help, Religion, Travel, History. Something squeaked. "Last call, Joey." When she stepped into the Western History alcove, she could feel her eyes trying to shut out what she was seeing: Joey, hovering in the air, swinging like a pendulum. A long ratcheted strap was threaded over a ceiling beam and looped around his neck. Lydia's body sprung with terror, but instead of running away she was suddenly running toward him, toward Joey, and hugging his lanky legs and trying to hoist him up. She heard someone's scream curdle through the store and realized it was her own. Lydia's cheek pressed into Joey's thigh and his jeans were warm with urine. A lump in his pocket smelled of chocolate and she assumed it was a knot of melted Kisses, swiped from the bowl on the coffee shop counter. His hands were clenched into quiet fists and she could see the masking-tape bandages on three or four of his fingertips, but she wouldn't look up again at the popped purple sockets of his eyes, nor the foamy saliva rolling down his chin, nor the blue swelling of his lips. She could see the cemetery of books that had flapped to the floor as Joey had climbed the shelves, and the others he'd shoved aside to create footholds as he threaded the strap through the ceiling, and still others that had dropped as he'd tried to kick his feet back to stop himself from dying. By now she'd locked her hands together on the far side of his thighs and was trying to lift him up, but her sneakers kept slipping on the wooden floor, and each time she slipped the ratcheted strap cinched tighter around his neck. She must have stopped screaming because a ringing silence suddenly swallowed everything when she saw, a few inches from her face, poking up from Joey's front pocket, a folded photograph of her. Lydia. As a child. Excerpted from Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore by Matthew Sullivan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.