In good Company

The Pleasure Of My Company by Steve Martin (Phoenix, £6.99)

This svelte and wickedly funny novel is set in sunny Santa Monica, 'a perfect town for invalids, homosexuals, show people and all formerly peripheral members of society'. Its protagonist, Daniel Pecan Cambridge, is another peripheral type. Aged 30, 35, 38 or 27 depending on his mood, Daniel rarely leaves his apartment, which is just as well since he has so many obsessions that navigating a few blocks can take well over half an hour.

For instance, he refuses to cross the road when it involves stepping off an 8in-high curb, he needs all the lightbulbs in a home to total exactly 1,125 watts when lit, and as for crowds of four or more - only if he can create 'a matrix that links one individual to another by connecting similar shirt patterns'.

But it's not as if his life lacks excitement: there's the 15 minutes of media glare that resulted from his being a murder suspect; there's Philipa, the perky young actress who swings by for wheatgrass shakes with, unbeknown to her, secret ingredients; and there's his entry to the 'Most Average American' essay contest. Daniel is clearly a very strange young man but he's blessed with the beamy charm of the borderline insane.