Paperbacks: Scared Monsters, Sacred Masters<br></br>The Devil's Dictionary <br></br>A House in the Country <br></br>In Ruins <br></br>Betty Boothroyd: The Autobiography

Scared Monsters, Sacred Masters, by John Richardson (Pimlico, £12.50, 363pp)

Gossipy, hilarious, ruthlessly revealing, this collection of articles by Picasso's magisterial biographer is perhaps the most entertaining art book ever published. We learn much about artists' partners, particularly Bonnard's passive-aggressive Marthe, who spent much of her life in the bath. She "put her little wet foot down" when the artist said he was about to marry someone else, so prompting the suicide of Bonnard's intended. Worse still was Dali's ghastly Gala: "No doubt about it, she was one of the nastiest wives a major modern artist ever saddled himself with." The spotlight is turned on a galère of greats ranging from Warhol ("he did have a dark secret: he was exceedingly devout"), through Albert Barnes, who used his eyedrops fortune to create a fabulous collection in Philadelphia that he would hardly let anyone see, to Peggy Guggenheim, who "bought a picture a day" and opened her Modernist Venetian palazzo as a rival to the other family gallery ("my uncle's garage") in New York. Richardson is equally forthcoming about acquaintances outside the art world. He notes that Truman Capote never quite recovered from his electrician boyfriend's announcement he "would rather tinker with refrigerators than Truman". The unlikely romance between Beaton and Garbo gives rise to one of the funniest sections. Beaton's chums found Garbo's moodiness wearing, while Beaton sent her letters addressed "Dear Sir or Madam". Displaying just the right degree of heartlessness, Richardson is a raconteur without parallel.

The Devil's Dictionary, by Ambrose Bierce (Oxford, £7.99, 219pp)

Much utilised by think-piece writers on deadline, Bierce's cynical definitions may seem tired and wiseacre when trotted out. But read together in this classic work (continuously in print since 1882), Bierce's coinages still function brilliantly as amusing correctives to the besetting American sins of optimism and righteousness. A host of his definitions ring startlingly true today. "Gunpowder: An agency used by civilised nations for the settlement of disputes which may become troublesome if left unadjusted." Others are just funny. "Barometer: An ingenious instrument which indicates what kind of weather we're having."

A House in the Country, by Clive Aslet (Fourth Estate, £8.99, 285pp)

The Country Life editor took a dose of his own medicine by swapping his Pimlico pad for a cottage in Northants. Despite some soppiness (his last words about a statue "smiling" should have been red-pencilled), his year-long diary gives an unvarnished view of rural life: spliffs, condoms in the street and visits to the dump. Many will feel a kinship with Aslet's misfortunes, from a disappearing corkscrew to the perversity of old stairs. "'Are you sure there is no other way upstairs?' asked a bed-delivery man, as if I was ... concealing the existence of the imperial staircase at the back."

In Ruins, by Christopher Woodward (Vintage, £7.99, 280pp)

A fascinating tour of the West's great ruins and the works they have inspired. These are not always uplifting. Impressed by the Colosseum, Hitler demanded that Nazi buildings should be constructed in marble rather than ferro-concrete. Before a miserable modern remodelling, the Baths of Caracalla inspired Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound" and Pennsylvania Station in New York (Woodward fails to remark that the NYC copy was itself ruined in the Sixties). Best of all, Lampedusa's fragmentary palace in Sicily inspired The Leopard – though it sounds an unenticing spot. "Get away," whispered a priest to Woodward.

The Autobiography, by Betty Boothroyd (Fourth Estate, £7.99, 292pp)

Possibly the best-loved Speaker since the Civil War, the great Betty has done herself no harm with this enjoyable self-portrait. After a West Riding childhood (with "some of the best Yorkshire puddings ever tasted"), she embarked on a career of some glamour. This did not include her spell in the Tiller Girls ("just like politics – damned hard work"). She met Ho Chi Minh and worked on JFK's presidential campaign. An MP on her fifth attempt, she became Speaker in 1992. And she can still dish it out to those (T Blair, M Martin) who fail to meet her standards.