N ICHOLAS H ASLAM Edward St Aubin’s Mother’s Milk (Picador, £12.99) was
like gin to me, and a tonic too, and he should have won the Mann Booker. I absolutely loved Red Carpets and Other Banana Skins (LittleBrown, £18.99), Rupert Everett’s autobiography, which did win the man hooker prize, though hotly contested by Darwin Porter’s pubic hair-raising biography Brando Unzipped, (Blood Moon Productions, £17.99), bi, it turns out, being le mot juste for that fairy Godfather. While at perfect Pradelles, I blushed and frequently wept with shame for my host nation reading many chapters of Bad Faith, (Cape, £20) a chilling account by Carmen Callil of the collaborating monsters running Nazified France; while my wildest rococo fantasies were tickled by In The Pink, a vivid pictography by Carleton Varney of decorator Dorothy Draper, 1940s America’s plaster saint (Pointed Leaf Press, £50). However, GQ magazine’s suited editor, Dylan Jones, with his social and sartorial strictures in Mr Jones Rules (Hodder, £14.99), is intensely irritating, as he’s always right. Well, nearly always.
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