Brunswick Street Blues, by Sally Bothroyd

Brick Brown (yes really) is working in the PR department of an inner city Melbourne council (despite having no qualifications or experience). She aims to find out who is behind the endless series of complaints about her uncle Baz’s dive jazz bar in Fitzroy. When her investigations turn up the sleazy mayor’s decaying body in the archives, she reports it via an anonymous message on her boss’s phone. Then the body and her uncle both go missing. What follows is a fast-paced and sometimes confused mishmash of political corruption, underworld heavies, dodgy developers, media rivalry and determinedly colourful characters who make very questionable decisions. Set in 2007, the novel has a vibe more of the 1990s. Its depiction of a council PR department is ridiculous, but not in an amusing way. The wry tone takes too many cheap shots at easy targets. This seems to be intended as a romp in the vein of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books, but it falls short on every level.