Janet Evanovitch gets political. (That sentence is a David Montgomery blurb machine sentence.) The magnetic (or do I mean charismatic? both, I think) Debi Alper has written a crime caper with a sharp edge, in which sexual perversions are mashed up with a South London commune to create a mystery that zings along. I have lived a very boring life for many years now, so can’t remember if communes really exist like the idyllic and supportive group portrayed here — the couple of times I have lived that way people kept nicking the milk out of the fridge — but one can hope that in an alternative universe to the one I find myself in, young people abandoned or abused by their biological families can find this kind of home.
Social comment aside, Nirvana Bites features a witty detective story with a difference (stapled fish, anyone?), a client with a serious metal fetish, an appealing heroine and assorted bizarre London lowlife. I have my serious doubts about those south Londoners after reading this book — no wonder taxis are reluctant to go there after 11 p.m.