Where Bourdain's prose was like someone pirouetting around an abbatoir with a chainsaw, Buford is more measured, offering the inquisitive view of a middle aged ingenu. In the end it gives us a better picture of how a great restaurant kitchen really feels.
Heidi Holland's biography of Robert Mugabe does something deeply unsettling - it makes one feel the dictator's pain.
There's a perception that children's literature involves endless picnics where the strawberry jam and lashings of ginger beer never run out.
In a pretentious moment, one might call Hardy a writer of terroir. Far From the Madding Crowd, while lacking the tragic grandeur of Tess, Jude or The Woodlanders, is the first novel to refer to Wessex by name.
It's a paradox that would bother Lord Reith or William Russell were they alive today.
It's 10 years since the death of Alan Clark - a politician who found distinction in his diary style, if not his career.
The indoor pool was a child of the industrial revolution: mass construction began only after the Baths and Wash Houses Act of 1846.
Two new books with almost identical titles illustrate the rise of a new literary phenomenon - the wild swimming tome.
Throughout this memoir, Egeland presents himself as one of the more assertive elements in the UN, who likes to "speak truth to power".
"I am a woodlander; I have sap in my veins," Roger Deakin writes. The late author is on a mission to get to the heart of something huge and elemental - to understand not just trees, but the very essence of wood.