Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore

Frankly, I cannot understand the slew of 3-, 4-, and 5- star reviews for Matthew Sullivan's “Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore.” What I can understand is how many people might be drawn to read this book about a woman who must solve a suicide in the upper floor of her bookstore. I am one of those fools who likes to read books about books, bookstores, libraries, authors, etc. Luckily, I picked this title up from the library and did not waste a dime on purchasing it.

Book nerds, do not be tricked!! Stay away!

The pace of the action drags and drags, which is an achievement for such a short title. Should a second star be awarded for making such a mess in a minimum of pages? I am a fan of efficiency, but not in this case! The mystery isn't all that interesting and, by the time we learn of the horrible event from Lydia's childhood, I wished the Hammerman had gotten her! The two, intertwined mysteries are forced.

Generally, the characterization is incredibly poor; I found myself not caring what happened to any of them almost immediately. The romantic relationship between Lydia and David? Bleh. Her “blossoming” relationship with Raj? Meeehhh. DON'T CARE. Dullsville.

One of the most irritating tics of Matthew Sullivan's writing is the constant use of a character's name when another character is addressing him or her. “Lydia, would you like to go to the store? I know you are hungry, Lydia. Lydia always liked lunchmeat!” The first word of the book is...you guessed it...Lydia! I cannot even provide an annoying enough quote of how Lydia's name is used OVER and OVER throughout every piece of dialogue. Even more annoying is the author's propensity for inner monologue's to use the “she, Lydia” construction. WE KNOW WHO IS SPEAKING, MATTHEW! Good gravy.

Also, if you're still thinking, “Hey, let me listen instead of reading this boring-ass book that supposed to be interesting so I can hit my annual Goodreads ,” definitely avoid the audiobook. The narrator should consider another profession and, in a very odd interpretation, voices every man at an extremely slow speed.