Newcomer author Glenn Cooper attempts to balance three interrelated stories in Library of the Dead. There’s the modern tale of an FBI agent whose hopes of casually drifting into retirement are dashed when he’s assigned to solve a high-profile serial murder. Half a decade earlier, Winston Churchill is called out of his post-war pseudo-retirement to deal with a mysterious discovery — one that leads to the creation of Area 51 across the Atlantic. And centuries prior to both of those stories, there’s the tale of a bizarre savant — the seventh son of a seventh son, born on the seventh day of the seventh month of the 777th year, no less — who is taken in by a church on the Isle of Wight.

It was pretty much inevitable that the serial killer subgenre would attempt to integrate Da Vinci Code-style historical conspiracy stories, but in Library of the Dead’s case, at least, the results are far from pretty. In the hands of a better author, the multiple settings could provide a rich array of narrative options. For Cooper, it’s the source of a near-endless stream of clichés. Special Agent Will Piper, the contemporary lead, is less a character than an amalgamation of pulp tropes, a bitter, alcoholic, sexist womanizer (with a heart of gold, naturally). His partner is a straight-laced young woman fresh out of the training program — she scolds Will for swearing too much, but she eventually warms up to her superior’s roguish charms.

The historical figures don’t fare much better. Oversized personalities, including Churchill and Harry Truman, are more props than characters, hardly registering an impression. Granted, in-depth characterization is hardly a priority in most page-turners, but introducing genuinely rich characters only to have them mutter a few lines of dialogue and disappear reeks of laziness.

None of this would matter if the book held enough momentum to carry the plot forward, but even here it comes up short. Cooper plays his hand about 200 pages too early, laying out more than enough details to piece together everyone’s role in the eventual twist. At this point, the book shifts gears from thriller into horror territory, but despite a few genuinely eerie ideas, the constant shifting between locations and time periods kills any tension before it can start building.

If Library has one saving grace, it’s the unintentional hilarity of Cooper’s prose. Lines like “Mark smiled like the Mona Lisa, enigmatically,” or “For a guy named Will, the concept of free will is kind of important” read like rejects from the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest; and they’re only the tip of the iceberg. It’s worth the occasional chuckle, at least — a small reward, but better than nothing.