Murder on the Beach: A Beloved Bookstore Says Goodbye
A small piece of me died today.
It was expected. Hell, it was planned.
But sadness, wistfulness and a little bit of grief is with the family.
In this case, the family is the owners, managers, employees and patrons of Murder on the Beach, a nationally regarded bookstore in Delray Beach, Florida, one that dealt exclusively in thrillers, mysteries and novels of suspense. I humbly suggest the family also includes readers far and wide and an untold number of authors—published and unpublished—who visited the bookstore as buyers, students, mentors, teachers and speakers.
Friday was the final day of operation for the store, which closed after 27 years of bolstering the written word and those to penned/typed them.
Bookstores Everywhere Are Struggling
Now, the death of a beloved bookstore is hardly surprising. Since the reading public accepted e-books as a satisfying way to consumer paragraphs and chapters of any genre, bookstores around the country (world?) have seen sales drop.
There are more closings every year, and there are few replacements in sight. They’re all in an intensive care unit.
For Murder on the Beach, the COVID-19 pandemic was the knife that sliced open the IV bag.
“People are not coming to buy books. My business is down two-thirds since COVID,” Joanne Sinchuk, the bookstore’s manager and former owner, told the Palm Beach Post when the impending closing was announced in February.
But Murder on the Beach was not just a bookstore. It was a community.
Teaching Writers to Become Authors
Led by Sinchuk, who must have been a cheerleader in her youth, the bookstore held countless book signings and author events.
If you’ve read either of John Grisham’s Camino Island books, in which the protagonist is a bookstore owner whose mission in life is to hold multitudes of events at his workplace, it gives you the picture. For those of us near South Florida and for those of us in the mystery game, Murder on the Beach was, simply, a destination. At some point, you had to go.
For many years, it sponsored a summertime series — the Florida Authors Academy — about writing and craft, scheduling authors and subject matter experts to deliver 90- and 120-minute presentations and tutorials.
From some three-and-a-half hours away in Orlando, I’d find classes of interest (they were all good) and make an up-and-back trip to Delray Beach to learn what I did not know. I saw familiar faces, listened diligently and, yes, always bought a few books.
I still have notes from a session taught by the late Steven Brown, a former FBI agent and former private investigator turned author who revealed some very cool tips and tricks of the PI trade.
I remember M.C.V. Egan asking many questions of everyone, soaking up everything as she took the journey from unpublished writer to published author. It was glorious to witness.
In short, Murder on the Beach had an impact. It mattered.
Those who shopped and attended events there felt as if they were part of something bigger. In a world of words where so much gets done in isolation and without consistent feedback or help, having a second-home like that meant something important.
And, yes, I confess: I may only be talking to the niche group of people who, like me, cannot be trusted to have a healthy credit card and to be dropped off at a library or bookstore just to kill some time.
Murder on the Beach was one of six bookstores in American that the Murder & Mahem blog considered to be on the bucket list of any lover of mystery, suspense and thriller fiction. (The others: Murder by the Book in Houston, Once Upon a Crime in Minneapolis, The Cloak and Dagger in Princeton, N.J., Mystery to Me in Madison, Wisc., and Centuries and Sleuths in Forest Park, Ill.)
Murder on the Beach: Since 1996
Sinchuk opened Murder on the Beach in Sunny Isles (North Miami Beach) in 1996 and moved it to Delray Beach six years later. The bookstore changed locations again in 2019, taking a smaller square footage in the Delray Beach Public Library.
And although it was a key part of the South Florida writing community, especially for local members of Mystery Writers of America, Murder on the Beach was a national bookstore.
It was common to stroll into a mystery-themed author or reader conference somewhere and find a makeshift meeting room or two converted into a weekend bookstore. Sinchuk usually ran them, opening early, closing late and tracking everything. Her team helped run conference raffles, then helped drink some wine at night.
Then it was back to South Florida, where another event at the bookstore loomed. She had longtime employers who loved stories and books and authors as much as she did.
Among the authors who came for book launches, book-signings, readings and presentations: James Patterson, Edna Buchanan, Carl Hiaasen, Michael Connelly, Stuart Woods, Tim Dorsey, James Hall, Andrew Gross, Charles Todd, Caroline Todd, Randy Wayne White, Hank Phillip Ryan, Elaine Viets, Victoria Landis, Nancy J. Cohen, Jane Cleland, M.E. Browning and Les Standiford.
The complete list would fill, well, a book.
COVID Killed the Bookstore
But as it did for so many other people and businesses, the pandemic changed everything. Florida Author Academy continued via Zoom, but it wasn’t the same.
After all, in-person events gave the bookstore in-house customers, not viewers on a screen. Customers book books. They couldn’t, or didn’t, buy them over Zoom.
Customers got used to not visiting. When the pandemic lifted, not everyone returned.
Maybe if the bookstore had been able to hold on a bit longer, it would have survived long-term. Who really knows?
What I do know is that the genres that Sinchuk and Murder on the Beach promoted were among the most popular in the reading community falling behind those of romance (and its subgenres) and alongside Sci-Fi/Fantasy (and its subs) and Young Adult.
I also know that those of us who enjoy reading and writing crime, be it fiction or real, have a little hole in our hearts with the passing of this unique piece of our culture.
Alas, the story of Murder on the Beach is written. Unfortunately, it’s not a mystery. It’s history.
But it’s a shame. And it feels a bit criminal.
And as they pose in B-level crime movies, we ask: Who do we see about that?