At a time of food rationing, blackouts and privations of all kinds, The Ritz, The Savoy, The Dorchester and Claridge's (The Connaught, of course, was spared), were rife with political intrigue, deposed royals and scandal of the first order at the height of  the Second World War, as indeed was the West End in general; but it has taken all this time to produce a book portraying those crazy years from the hotels' point of view.

Matthew Sweet has rectified this with a vengeance. In a thoroughly entertaining tome, written with panache and considerable glee, The West End Front portrays an indelible period for guests and hosts alike, in which the outrageous mixed with the improbable as a matter of routine. From Dylan Thomas, who licked the gravy browning off the legs of the girl from MI5, to the stateless prince born in a suite at Claridge's declared Yugoslavian territory solely for that purpose, this colourful collection of high-end reminiscence and anecdote, much of it first-hand, is not merely fascinating social history, but an accurate reflection of just what it was like to snatch fleeting breaks from the teeth of battle.

Frothy, but fascinating  - and very soundly researched.

The Mitfords rise again (not that they've ever subsided, God bless 'em).

Nancy Mitford met the love of her life, the glamorous Free French commander, Gaston Palewski  - he an accomplished politician, she an equally accomplished author - in Paris, immediately after the Second World War. 

The hopelessly impractical love affair that followed, conducted back and forth between London and France, forms the bones of this delightful biography, which finally fills in the gaps attached to Nancy's closely manicured life in Paris. Palewski, immortalised as Fabrice de Sauveterre in The Pursuit of Love, and himself an inveterate philanderer, was the guiding force behind that classic; while she, in turn, influenced his turbulent political career.   

Nancy's own pursuit of love (and taste in men) was notably less successful than in her novel, but Lisa Hilton's dual biography turns this to advantage. In a cleverly disguised plea for a more Gallic approach to such Anglo-French alliances, she has exposed a long-known, but rarely explored side to her famous heroine, which was ever reflected in her work and haunted her for life.

Perfect for Mitford freaks, but a most enjoyable read in its own right.

Readers of a certain age will recall with affection the golden years of Gourmet, where its much respected wine editor, Gerald Asher, held sway for thirty years straight.

They will also recall the reason why: a monthly procession of essays on wine as remarkable for their range as their content. 

A Vineyard in My Glass is a splendid anthology of the best of these. Hand-picked by the man himself, and covering twenty-seven wine regions, dotted about Europe and California, they comprise a durable, cross-sectional view of wines new, old and developing at a time of immense growth and change, all written with the author's typical humour and bonhomie.

Published appropriately by the University of California Press, whose expertise in such matters is well known, this book is as delicious as its subject and a dabbler's delight.

It's not every day one encounters a cookbook written by a Cambridge graduate, still less one endowed with an engaging sense of humour. Here we have both.

In an era of celebrity chefs who take both their food and their egos far too seriously, Jacob Kenedy comes as a breath of fresh air. So does his celebrated restaurant, Bocca di Lupo, which lurks on a tiny Soho side street in London and specialises in first-rate Italian fare, much of it unusual, almost all of it home-made.

In his Bocca Cookbook, this well-travelled author, who lived in Italy himself before returning to London to open a trattoria of his own, travels the length and breadth of that gastronomic paradise to collect the makings of his menus. From Piedmont to Tuscany, Lazio to Sicily, and, of course, Veneto, the remarkably do-able results of his journeys - oh, joy! with North American measurements - are now enshrined for all to share.

With credit given where credit is due, and origins attached to each dish (e.g. that splendid Lombardy soporific, Drunken Baby, p. 447), this delightful book is a monument to its author, a pleasure to cook from, and a delight to behold.     

British television is famous for its programmes in series, but rarely does it capture the international imagination more than when it depicts the follies and foibles of the aristocracy. From Upstairs Downstairs to Brideshead Revisited and The Forsyte Saga, the audience is huge.

When Julian Fellowes' inspired creation, Downton Abbey, was first mooted and still at the production stage, we were fortunate in negotiating so-called "long-lead" local sponsorship with PBS through our old friends at VPT; and are honoured to be doing the same again with Season Two.

Every bit as fine as the first, the second series heralds a handsome book by Jessica Fellowes of that ilk - a former Deputy Editor of Country Life and an accomplished author in her own right - in which the two series are celebrated and unmasked as only an insider can. Packed with film stills and shots behind the scenes, and accompanied by a surprisingly rich history of social and military life at the time, The World of Downton Abbey is much more than the usual film fare, and an accomplished social history in itself.     

It is not every day that an "official companion" becomes a stand-alone work. Downton may well seem an aristocratic soap opera to the uninitiated, but its ingenious use as a springboard to a history of the period as a whole (for serious buffs, the list of "Further Reading" is worth the price of the book on its own) results in a surprisingly literary work of which both creator and author should be proud.

One of the more improbable tales of the Second World War concerns that of the Fuhrer's infamous number two, Rudolf Hess, whose misguided flight to Scotland, ostensibly to negotiate peace with Britain with Group Captain the Duke of Hamilton, combined comedy with farce.

Landing by parachute on a field in deepest Renfrewshire, where he was promptly captured by a startled farmer, and subsequently incarcerated in a private house converted for the purpose, there to languish until the Nuremberg trials, this schizoid, yet canny figure triggered a psychological war with his equally determined inquisitors, whose new, Freudian techniques were uniquely deployed against him. 

Featuring the unsung lead interrogator, Major Frank Foley, and a string of revelations hitherto concealed, this intriguing book is the work of Stephen McGinty, whose track record with The Scotsman is very well known.

Camp Z effectively closes the book on this fool's errand, shedding fascinating light and unusual detail on a highly secret mission at the time. Not a dull page from start to finish.     

The danger of putting a collection like this in the loo is that visitors will unaccountably disappear - but not the wonders of nature to perform.

In Paris Was Ours, 30-odd writers reflect on their personal ups and downs in the romantic City of Light. Much the same can be said for the ups and downs of its editor, Penelope Rowlands, whose taste, if not uniformly tops, is nonetheless consistently enjoyable.

Including the likes of David Sedaris, Diane Johnson and Judith Thurman, Parisian experts all,  these are writerly impressions of a noble city - some sad, some savoury; some new, some old - in a most evocative package.

The inexhaustible Norman Davies, whose works remain both consistently enjoyable and definitive (e.g. The Isles: a History), has now capped his impeccable career as a historian with a study of such stature it is almost impossible to do justice to it in a couple of paragraphs.

But this book lives up to its sub-title. The European landscape is strewn with kingdoms, countries and duchies that have long disappeared, but once held sway; and from King Arthur right up to the very different Russia of today, the romance of lost civilisations remains unquestioned.

Vanished Kingdoms covers fourteen such countries and the vacuum they created; and despite its obvious girth, does so in typically Davies-digestible style.

This is history for the layman. As such, it is not only a sweeping, colourful narrative, but clearly a labour of love.

The work of a master. Hats off all round.

Queen Elizabeth I assumed the throne at a time of intense upheaval.

Surrounded by Catholics on every side, she led a Protestant island beset with enemies, particularly the Spanish, whose potential invasion demanded not merely diplomacy, but an intricate intelligence network.

The Queen's Agent is the singular tale of Francis Walsingham, England's first great spymaster, whose unquestioned allegiance to the Queen, and defense of the realm as he saw it, extended to the "turning" of agents, cryptic coding, the infiltration of plots and the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots.

John Cooper has written an admirable study of an overlooked figure that is long overdue.

Altogether enjoyable.

It's all been done before, of course, but rarely so well; and the combination of two authors with a sixty-year track record between them (including the immortal Chicka Chicka Boom Boom) makes it all seem new.

Ten Little Caterpillars, which matches Bill Martin's rhythms to Lois Ehlert 's collages, is a typically spectacular confection; but unlike Eric Carle's classic, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, in which our hero simply chews his way to butterflydom, this one identifies flowers, shrubs and the insects themselves along the way.

Cabbage Loopers, Woolly Bears and Mourning Cloaks munch their way through these glorious pages, encountering apple trees, foxgloves and even winter squash en route.

An eye-popper, if ever there was one. And absolutely made for Christmas.

For the first time in its 125-year existence, the Arthur Conan Doyle Estate has officially authorised a Sherlock Holmes pastiche.

It was certainly well worth the wait.

Fans of PBS 's Foyle's War, also written by Anthony Horowitz, will recall with affection both his ear for the period and his imperturbable World War II detective. Here, however, he goes one better. In a book simply begging to be filmed, Holmes and Watson find themselves embroiled in a labyrinthine plot involving a fine art dealer, a career criminal, and the seedy side of 1890s London. Through gaslit streets, opium dens, a railway robbery and a prison escape, our two heroes (Watson is very much involved here) pursue a labyrinthine connection to the mysterious House of Silk, culminating in a hair-raising chase by horse and carriage.

Readers disillusioned by legions of lacklustre "sequels" (Daphne du Maurier, Jane Austen et al) will find little to complain of here. Au contraire. This is clearly the work of a pro; and the fact that the author is a much respected scriptwriter on the side merely helps, rather than hinders, the flow.

Baker Street at its best. A top notch, stand-alone thriller for Sherlockians of every stripe, and thoroughly recommended.

We are constantly asked for "good, clean fare" for girls, the more fanciful the better. Enter Wisdom's Kiss.

Princess Wisdom, otherwise known as Dizzy, is betrothed to one Duke of Farina, but makes her way to her nuptials only to fall in love en route with a circus acrobat. He, however, has other designs, having fallen in turn for her own lady-in-waiting. Enter Sir Felis el Gato, the master swordsman; Tips, the miller's son; wicked Wilhelmina, Duchess of Farina; Queen Mum Ben and her pitch black cat, Escoffier, and one has some idea of just what hilarity awaits.

This is vastly entertaining stuff. Told in eight voices, and written in the form of prose, letters, diary entries and excerpts from the 8th edition of The Imperial Encyclopedia of Lax, this is one of the most delightful confections for teenage girls that has come our way of late.

The third hit in a row for Catherine Gilbert Murdock and a treat from start to finish.