Welcome to my world. My name is Tony Berry, writer and editor (and lifelong pedant) with five crime fiction books and two memoirs to my name. Also running addict, failed chef, theatre 'luvvie' and dedicated cruciverbalist
CATCH-up time, trying to reduce the pile of recent reads that have provided a mixed bag of distraction, intrigue, twisting plot-lines and unreliable narrators. Two old favourites and one comparative newbie among a clutch of authors with an unfailing ability to grip and taunt with narratives that leave you guessing to the very end. The Distant Echo by Val McDermid FAR from being a new release, this was recently acquired in response to the cover line declaring this thriller was “introducing Karen Pirie”, a name now long familiar to McDermid devotees. First published in 2003, the tale initially takes us…
Continue reading

TIME for reflection on this running life. For “reviewing the situation“, as the fiendish Fagin sang in the wonderful film version of Oliver, way back in the 1960s. A need to stop awhile and consider what lies ahead. Like a rambler who has tramped their way steadily to the top…
Continue reading

STARTING a previously unread book is a journey into the unknown, but one full of hope and expectation. Perhaps it’s sparked by an intriguing review, or an enthusiastic word of mouth recommendation. Maybe fellow book bloggers – at least those with no axe to grind or promoters to please –…
Continue reading
Join my ‘Read. Write. Run. Repeat.’ newsletter
Receive regular updates of my reviews and commentary direct to your inbox.
AS we hurtle towards F-Day it might pay to heed the news from Australia. If you can find it. So little is ever classed by UK editors as sufficiently noteworthy to be included in their pages. Unless, of course, it is of a bushfires, mouse plagues or shark attacks. Although…
Continue reading

BOOKING a holiday in Cornwall? Better make sure your agent puts it in writing. Think of the poor souls desperate for a summer break who decided on a couple of weeks along the sunny (?) Cornish Riviera. Suddenly they find part of their time in a holiday park perched on…
Continue reading
SURELY mine is not the only brain that has gradually turned to mush thanks to this endless lock-down. I sense previously lively little grey cells have coagulated into something resembling sago pudding. Thus my head is host to an amorphous splodge of lifeless nothingness. A once active organ languishes listless and lifeless. Bogged and befuddled, it refuses to be provoked into action as I return to flicking through my collection of old postcards. A diversion on an endlessly rainy day made all the more gloomy by seeing the mask free Wimbledon crowd basking in sunshine. The Cornish Riviera holiday haven?…
Continue reading