MUSTREADS

WEAR AND TEAR by Tracy Tynan

(Duckworth £9.99) ‘ MY FATHER, Kenneth Peacock Tynan, was a writer and theatre critic, but before he had ever published a single sentence, he was known for his unique style of dress,’ writes Tracy Tynan in this remarkable memoir.

A friend of Tynan and his first wife, novelist Elaine Dundy, left a striking description of their family life: ‘Sounds of screams and smashing crockery . . . Ken shouting: “I’ll kill you, you b***h” . . . and Tracy, poised and calm, saying: “Hello, how nice to see you.” ’

The searing sadness of her story of neglect contrasts with her gently rueful tone. On Tynan’s death, he left Tracy the diaries kept during his last decade. She read them, belatedly hoping for parental approval.

‘I was mentioned eight times,’ she says. ‘It was more than I had anticipated.’

DEAD ZONE by Philip Lymbery

(Bloomsbury £10.99) ‘IN THE blink of an evolutionary eye, one particular species has gone from newcomer to the dominant force shaping the planet: us,’ writes Philip Lymbery.

As the chief executive of animal welfare organisation Compassion In World Farming, he warns: ‘The way we feed ourselves has become a dominant activity, affecting wildlife and the natural ecosystems that our existence depends on.’ Almost half the world’s usable land surface is given over to agriculture to feed the human population of more than seven billion.

So, how to reconcile our need to feed ourselves with the devastating environmental effects of food production?

Lymbery suggests moving from industrial to sustainable farming and reducing food waste: almost a quarter of the world’s total food resources rots or is binned each year.

A FORGER’S TALE by Shaun Greenhalgh

(Allen & Unwin £8.99) IN 2006, after a police raid on his parents’ home in Bolton, Shaun Greenhalgh was charged with producing a huge quantity of forged art — from Egyptian figures and Renaissance drawings to Lalique glass and Lowry paintings — that deceived art critics and experts at major museums and auction houses for almost two decades.

He was sentenced to nearly five years in prison, while his parents — pensioners who became known as the Artful Codgers — received suspended sentences.

While incarcerated, Greenhalgh wrote a memoir of his crimes: the result is a lively account of a man who put his genuine talent and love of art to deplorable use.

But, as Greenhalgh philosophically concludes, if we find something beautiful, ‘does it really matter who made it or when?’