In Hesh Kestin's new thriller, The Lie (Scribe, £8.99), Dahlia Barr, a feisty Israeli lawyer, specialises in defending Palestinians accused of terrorism. She is shrewd, brash, tough and doesn't suffer fools.
I admit to having developed a cynicism about actors’ memoirs. Not content with the drama of the lives they inhabit on stage or screen, they then have to serve up their own lives as drama, too, the vainglorious bastards.
This is the remarkable story of Renato Levi, an Italian Jew born in 1902 in Genoa, where his mother, the actress Dolores Domenici, owned the Hotel Select. She also owned the Hotel Miramare in Rapallo. He held a British passport, was educated in Switzerland during the First World War, later travelled to Sydney, and his family owned a boat-building business in Bombay.
Humour in political advertising can come in many forms. Look up the crackly old black-and-white broadcast from 1950s British election campaigns and you will get a lot of laughs out of Harold McMillan's stilted, confused performances.
By Ayelet Gundar-Goshen(Trans: Sondra Silverstein)
Pushkin Press, £10
When we first meet Yaakov Markovitch, he is serving in the Irgun in 1940s Palestine. Early on, he strikes up a friendship with Zeev Feinberg. The two could not be more different. Markovitch is quiet, ordinary, "gloriously average". Feinberg is larger-than-life, a creature of appetites, whether food or sex.
By Emanuela Barasch-Rubinstein Holland House, £14.99
Some writers dwell on flesh and furnishings, others, like Emanuela Barasch-Rubinstein, look deep into interior lives. Her Five Selves is a mindscape masterpiece - a handful of novellas in which the dramatis personae struggle to understand themselves in dark times.