Midnight at the Bright Ideas Bookstore: A Novel

What a world, Sadie thought. People once made glass sculptures of decay, and they put these sculptures in museums. How strange and beautiful human beings are. And how fragile.

Where are they now? Dropping to their knees in the streets. In fields. In kitchens. Stopping halfway through a kiss or a fight. Imagine getting it all back. Your daughter’s wedding. The first time you held your son. Bluebells. An ache builds in my throat that has nothing to do with the smoke.

‘Sometimes,’ said Thomas, wiping his eyes, ‘I have the strangest feeling that things happen not one after the other, but all at once. I felt it years ago, in Lowlands House, and here it is again. I can’t explain it, only tell you that this afternoon I’m a young man in winter and someone’s handed me a baby at a funeral – but also that I’m fifty, and

“I can’t remember how long it’s been since I had two whole days in front of me with no commitments, no obligations, nothing particular to do. That’s what’s strange.” I turned to him. “You know, when I look at you grown-ups, I think you’re trapped by things you don’t actually care about. How does that happen? When does it happen?” He pulled himself