SBR: A Crime in the Neighborhood has a story that promises revelations, but ends up being the tale of a young girl strangely unapologetic about destroying an innocent man’s life. There is some charm in the description of a quiet, middle-class neighborhood, everything ordinary, petty and pointless about the life there on display. But it becomes too much pretty quickly. Beyond a point, I wasn’t sure why I was reading the book.
To read or not to read: I don’t see the point of it unless you are nostalgic about life in a Washington DC suburb in the 1970s.