The Penguin Companion to Food<br></br>The Diaries of Kenneth Tynan<br></br>Cricket and all that<br></br>Three Queer Lives<br></br>Dad's army

The Penguin Companion to Food by Alan Davidson (Penguin, £20, 1074pp)

There are numerous reasons why this is possibly the best reference book ever published. First, it is extraordinarily comprehensive on the areas you would expect it to cover; the 3,000 entries include multi-page articles on major themes such as bread, chocolate, flour and pasta. Secondly, it is equally comprehensive about 120 cuisines you might not expect to find, including Yemen, Iceland ("Greenland shark when buried and allowed to ferment ... is safe to eat") and white-trash cooking. Alan Davidson is particularly knowledgeable about Laos ("among the most beautiful people in the world"), possibly because he was once ambassador there. Thirdly, the book is richly endowed with entries you would definitely not expect to find, ranging from aardvark, through giraffe and hogweed ("one of the best vegetables I have eaten," declared one consumer) to sin-eating.

With the £20 saved by buying this edition rather than the hardback original, food-lovers can invest in another stunning work by Davidson. In a handsome, enlarged format, his acclaimed Mediterranean Seafood (Prospect, £17.99, 429pp) deserves a place on any ichthyophile's bookshelf. As you might expect, it is comprehensive, scholarly and richly supplied with those toothsome oddities that the author finds so irresistible. The beautifully illustrated catalogue of southern seafish, from the lamprey to the abalone, is supported by almost 200 pages of recipes. Just to read about bourride, brik à l'oeuf au thon or pulpos con papas prompts your fingers to stray towards the Travel Agents section of Yellow Pages.

The Diaries of Kenneth Tynan Edited by John Lahr(Bloomsbury, £8.99, 439pp)

Self-inflating and self-lacerating by turns, Tynan's journals are always fascinating. Though one of the world's great egos, he was equally interested in the stellar names in his orbit. Keen to épater les bourgeois, he came up with the title Sans Taste for a putative autobiography. Tynan, of course, had taste in abundance, but it was distinctly gamey. Consider his list of "the classic tastes": "bread sauce, Nuits St Georges '62, Worcestershire sauce, Toblerone, Bovril". It seems the diaries were intended for public consumption, but did he really want the world to know about his penile dysfunction?

Cricket and all that by Henry Blofeld(Coronet, £7.99, 242pp)

Cricket fans suffering withdrawal pangs now Blowers is off the air should snap up this "irreverent history". Don't be put off by his chortling version of cricket's primeval roots ("Throw me a turnip, old thing"), Blofeld settles down to an anecdote-packed account. "All-rounder" Percy Jeeves gets a look-in because his name was borrowed by Wodehouse in 1913. The best yarn concerns C B Fry and Ranjitsinji. The two legends were once asked who was the best batsman of all time? A long pause followed before Ranji spoke: "I think, Charles, I was better than you on a soft wicket."

Three Queer Lives by Paul Bailey (Penguin, £7.99, 242pp)

Commencing with a breezy prologue concerning his own homosexuality, Bailey tells the stories of three who refused to compromise. Fred Barnes was a flamboyant music-hall chanteur who succumbed to the bottle. Naomi Jacobs was a cross-dressing egotist and rotten novelist. The final section of this triptych is the most entertaining. Arthur Marshall, a TV performer in both senses, "enjoyed sex whenever he could". During the war, he succeeded in getting a grumpy senior officer to address him as "Cynthia" and, after losing his hand gun at Dunkirk, announced he would attack Germans with "a very nasty look".

Dad's Army by Graham McCann (Fourth Estate, £7.99, 292pp)

Initially called Fighting Tigers, the idea for the BBC's longest-running comedy came from Jimmy Perry, an actor in Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop. With an ensemble headed by the technically brilliant Arthur Lowe (he was surprisingly lazy at learning his lines), the show was an instant hit and its viewing figures have declined only slightly over 30 years of repeats. Even now, the familiar gags stand up well. (Nazi submarine captain: "Your name will also go on the list. What is it?" Mainwaring: "Don't tell him, Pike.") Well written and researched, this celebration could not be bettered.