Jenny, the office mouse, whose literary aspirations suffocate in the corner cubicle of a large city publisher, is innocently deluded by a chance trail of love left by a phantom poet. The trail of delusion tears at her cloistered life, extracting her dreams and when she emerges from her musty chrysalis to confront the author, it costs her, her job and sanity, but releases a far greater power.
I am a lover of Great Danes, road cycling, and classic cars. I split my time between solitary literary pursuits, working with my designer wife on home restorations and supporting our son’s football careers. I am a wanderer. My boys and lovely partner of more than three decades, have been dragged from one adventure to another. Much in the same way I was as a youth. I was born in Barotseland formerly part of Northern Rhodesia and now a reluctant part of Zambia. Through many countries in North America , the Orient and Europe I have now (temporarily) come to rest in Spain.
When wandering, a vast array of abilities becomes stowed in one’s baggage, my rumpled duffel bag is no different. From performing Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams, to teaching and heavy equipment operation, even to pig and dairy farms, high-end restaurants and period home renovation, all add spice to the dish that is me. (One thinks too many chefs ruin the dish?) Perhaps – it is what it is. I dwell in possibility. That is why I love to engage stories and explore what might ‘be’. I hope you enjoy the journey, we are all in search of 'the great perhaps.'
Usually the star count is the toughest part of a review. Not this time. More on curmudgeons and star counts later. Let’s get to the good stuff, Farran’s work. Jenny, the chief protagonist, is having a bad day in a dull life. The opening chapter sets up the novel so cleverly you don’t notice until you re-read it. To quote, “It was as if she didn’t want anyone to know there was a lonely pulse in her heart. Easiest way to avoid pain is to not be alive.” Farran’s descriptions are fresh and vivid, for example “only the stark trees that stood like a regimented picket fence. They had been planted at precise intervals and as a result had a lifeless kind of cold about them. The branches unfolded high up, leaving the slender trunks like exposed, coarse stork legs. It was like a Brueghel painting without the peasants – was that even conceivable?” Jenny goes into another world when she finds a poem on a park bench: “All movements faded. It was as if one could snap an old fashioned Polaroid picture and as it developed, moving from opaque to hazing images, one could move through or even live within it.” The basic plot is a love story, or more accurately, Jenny’s desire for, but awkwardness, for a relationship. How this plays out is amazingly well done. Back to the star count boilerplate. My personal guidelines, when doing any review, are as follows: five stars means, roughly equal to best in genre. Rarely given. Four stars means, extremely good. Three stars means, definitely recommendable. I am a tough reviewer. I try hard to be consistent. Roughly equal to best in genre? This is a novel, covering a significant interval in one life. Five stars feels right on, even to this curmudgeon. Extremely recommended.
I honestly like this author. This is the second Farran book I have read. I really enjoy his characters. He doesn't do the "damsel in distress" bit, but writes about strong women. In this case, the heroine, Jenny, isn't all that tough in the beginning... but as the story unfolds, she grows some balls.
Jenny is a book worm who works for a publishing company. She wears a skirt everyday, rides a bicycle with a flower basket, and hasn't been laid in five years. "She had become trapped reading other people's work, assessing and crushing other's dreams. Her own dreams remained cloistered, like some pariah that she was too afraid to release."
A cute idea... however I'm not sure I was too in love with the story or any of the characters. I found myself wanting to skip ahead just to see if I'd really miss anything... I didn't.
Jenny is the office mouse, closeted in her cubicle in a large publishing house, she lives in a world only of her literary aspirations. Then, she stumbles across a love poem by an unknown author that changes her world—not necessarily for the better.
The Bench by Kevin Farran is an enigmatic romantic novel that explores the delusions that can engulf a life, fanning flames of hope and desire in ways beyond imagining. The story follows a measured journey through one woman’s tortured mind in a way that will keep you enthralled from beginning to end.
I received a free copy of this book. I give the author four stars for a good effort to entertain and enlighten.
Jenny works for a publishing company, and she's managed to fly under the radar for years by wearing frumpy frocks and avoiding contact with her colleagues. That all changes one day when she goes to the canal to eat lunch alone, as usual, and she finds a poem. The poem heightens her emotions and makes her consider what she is missing in her life: love. She continues to find poems each day and begins to transform. I really enjoyed this novel. I wanted to solve the mystery of the unknown poet, and I felt that all of the characters were well-developed and genuine including the dog. I recommend this novel to the hopeless romantic.
Overall a good story. It kept my attention pretty much throughout the book and never left me bored. However, I did find the end a bit rushed, like the author was just simply ready to be done with it and move on to the next project. There was nothing wrong with the way the story ended, but let's just say that Jenny didn't end up with who I wanted or whom I thought she should have. Still worth a read especially if looking for a quick weekend read or "airplane" book
152pgs, Jenny, whose literary aspirations suffocate in the corner cubicle of a large city publisher, is innocently deluded by a chance trail of love left by a phantom author. The trail of delusion tears at her cloistered life extracting her dreams and when she emerges from her musty chrysalis to confront the author, it costs her, her job and sanity, but releases a far greater power.