Berlin: The Downfall 1945, by Antony Beevor <br></br>A Trial by Jury, by D Graham Burnett <br></br>God, by Alexander Waugh <br></br>Frida, by Hayden Herrera <br></br>Love in a Dark Time, by Colm Tóibín

Berlin: The Downfall 1945, by Antony Beevor, Penguin, £12.99, 490pp

After his masterly depiction of the siege of Stalingrad, Beevor turns his attention to the fall of Berlin at the hands of the Red Army three years later. It was not an equal and opposite reaction, being greater in scale and more complete in its destructiveness. Beevor reveals how the high commands of both Germany and Russia oddly mirrored each other. Each contained senior officers of some brilliance, apparatchiks of profound unpleasantness and leaders who were certainly bad and probably mad – though the Germans practised self-deception on an unparalleled scale. Beevor describes this epic drama with masterly skill, switching from large-scale manoeuvres, always described with great lucidity, to intimate detail. The most shocking revelation is the terrible scale of Red Army rape. Beevor says that the German failure to destroy stocks of alcohol before the fall of Berlin was a major factor in this subhuman brutality. Probably around 100,000 women were raped in the city and 2 million German women in total.

In his compulsive narrative, Beevor notes how war is inevitably infused with the surreal – shaggy Cossack ponies and camels accompanied Zhukov's tanks – and humour, at even the grimmest moments. Berliners joked that the LSR sign for air-raid shelter stood for Lernt schnell Russisch (Learn Russian Quickly). After the victory, Kryukov, the cavalry leader, was rewarded with torture and imprisonment by Stalin, who awarded himself the title of "generalissimo" and a platinum star with 135 diamonds.

A Trial by Jury, by D Graham Burnett, Bloomsbury, £7.99, 205pp

Though this riveting account doesn't entirely escape the shadow of Twelve Angry Men, it is also a thoughtful contemplation of American justice. Burnett found himself foreman of the jury in a case concerning the multiple stabbing of a transvestite. It is intriguing to read how this professor of history, who is also a bit of a bossy britches, becomes increasingly embroiled with his fellow jurors, such as Felipe, who at first seemed "sweet and shy", though the author "came to loathe him". Felipe treated the event "like a game show", but, in general, it appears that a New York jury has the edge on its London counterpart.

God, by Alexander Waugh, Review, £7.99, 342pp

This is a learned guide to theology in a jokey guise. Waugh muses on such theological tenets as the omnipresence of God: "If God really is everywhere ... he must be down the lavatory [or] in a septic boil". Citing chapter and verse, he explores various examples of theological arcana, including God being "enraged by anything overweight". Whether Waugh believes or not isn't clear, but he certainly regards God as a joke. His father Auberon offered to cover the cost of the book's advance so it could be withdrawn from publication. Lord knows what grandpa Evelyn would have made of it.

Frida, by Hayden Herrera, Bloomsbury, £9.99, 507pp

Frida Kahlo'S visionary talent was jolted into life by the bus accident at 19 that caused her to have 32 operations in her next 29 years of life. "She lived dying," said a close friend – but what an amazing life. She spiced up her riotous, on-off marriage to Diego Rivera by numerous affairs with partners of both sexes, including the unexpectedly frisky Leon Trotsky. However, her "most passionate love affair was with herself". This emerges clear as day in the 30 self-portraits included in this enjoyable biography. Her masterpiece, The Two Fridas, is perhaps the most startling self-portrait ever painted.

Love in a Dark Time, by Colm Tóibín, Picador, £7.99, 279pp

Tóibín offers revelatory biographical critiques of nine artists whose gayness is not necessarily apparent in their work. In the case of Wilde, he elucidates the heartbreaking trajectory that led to the "most shocking sentence" in De Profundis: "The supreme sin is shallowness". Meditating on Francis Bacon, he notes the "mysterious energy" of Landscape near Malabata, Tangiers (1963). It turns out to be the burial place of Bacon's lover. Whether Tóibín proves that the "laws of desire" link figures as diverse as Thomas Mann and Elizabeth Bishop is debatable, but this book is a wonderful celebration of his subjects.