High against the sky, across the top of a line of hills in north-east Yorkshire, sprawls Castle Howard, a magnificent Baroque monstrosity surrounded by romantic gardens, classical statuary and an assortment of obelisks. One of England's great early 18th-century houses (Brideshead Revisited was filmed there), it is the joint product of two very different architectural geniuses, the dramatist and wayward dreamer Sir John Vanbrugh (1664-1726), and the practical traditionalist, Nicholas Hawksmoor, who had worked under Wren. The idea of building a vast palace in such a remote site was that of Charles Howard (1669-1738), third Earl of Carlisle, to glorify his family and secure the promising political career which in 1699 appeared to be his. This fascinating account of a project that grew and grew merges architectural and social history. Saumarez Smith is a natural writer and natural detective, and an authority on 18th-century mausolea. Hawksmoor's mausoleum at Castle Howard was more than a rich man's grand memorial; it was the despairing, defiant last gesture of a man fated never to find political favour. Despite the many problems and hurtful criticism Hawksmoor encountered, his is the first, and remains the finest, classical mausoleum in England. A strong sense of the main players emerges in this book. Vanbrugh was already a successful playwright, and this was his first architectural commission. His flamboyance dominates the design - the despondant, ultimately embittered Hawksmoor provided technical expertise and a passion for classicism. The Earl, as shrewd as he was extravagant, having seen his political ambitions collapse and disappointed by his wife and children, gradually abandoned his lavish London lifestyle for his isolated northern palace. Saumarez Smith's intelligent, witty and unobtrusive narrative intriques and moves, while capturing the vanity, humanity and imagination of its creators.
By Eileen BattersbyLiterary Russia: A Guide, by Anna Benn and Rosamund Bartlett (Papermac, £12 in UK)
In spite of its present troubled state (which, after all, is nothing new) Russia still seems to be rich in literary relics and literary museums - a proof that literature has always been valued there. A guide such as this is obviously intended primarily for those visiting Russia, but the entries contain so much potted literary history that they are often fascinating in their own right. St Petersburg and Moscow are studded with flats and houses where great writers (often persecuted) lived and wrote, while the countryside is rich in memories of Tolstoy, Turgenev, Pushkin, etc. There are numerous photographs, though printed rather small.
By Brian Fallon
The Crime and Mystery Book, by Ian Ousby (Thames & Hudson, £12.95 in UK)
An odd sound? - me rubbing my hands as I contemplate this large-format paperback. All that anyone could ever want to know about Crime and Mystery fiction. To the aficionado, this is one to die for. The whole story, with analyses of the traditional crime story, the hard-boiled school, the advent of female dicks, pulp fiction and film noir. Also a round-up of current crime novels, and lists, lists and more lists. Want to know what bean-shooters, roscoes, Chicago overcoat, nippers and buttons are? Look them up in this hard-boiled dictionary. Lovely stuff.
By Vincent Banville
The Postman Always Rings Twice, by James M. Cain (Bloomsbury, £4.99 in UK)
Little more than a long short story, James M. Cain's l934 classic of lust, violence, greed and revenge is as tightly written as a final demand notice. Frank, Cora and the Greek execute their danse macabre against a background of smalltown sleaziness and unfulfilled desire, while an old Testament deity of fire and brimstone pulls the strings. The exemplar against which many an aspiring thriller writer should test himself or herself.
By Vincent Banville
Billy Budd, Sailor, and Selected Tales, by Hermann Melville (OUP, £5.99 in UK)
Billy Budd, made into an opera by Benjamin Britten, is a curious work of Melville's later years, slow-moving and laden with commentary and moralising. It was never printed in his lifetime and leaves an impression of incompleteness, even though the final scene of young Budd's execution at sea has real power. The other stories include Benito Cereno, which was dramatised by Robert Lowell, Bartleby the Scrivener, the strange quasi-travelogue called The Encantadas, or Enchanted Islands (published under a pseudonym) and a few other pieces. Not major Melville (which is also true of so much that he wrote) but worth a place in a paperback library.
By Brian Fallon
The Dead Secret, by Wilkie Collins (OUP, £5.99 in UK)
Nothing in Collins's large output appears to be quite as good as The Woman in White, but he was never less than a first-rate "entertainment" novelist. This particular tale was in fact written immediately before his mature masterpiece and seems generally reckoned to be the book in which he emerged from his literary apprenticeship. It lies roughly halfway between a Gothic romance and a modern thriller, with a setting in remote Cornwall and a halfruined mansion with a sinister reputation. The influence of Collins's good friend Dickens seems a little too obvious in certain areas of the story.
By Brian Fallon