If you love small press publishers, have you heard of Inkubator Books? They’re a UK-based publisher, and they’re AMAZING! So many books in my Kindle are courtesy of pub day sales from Inkubator. I highly recommend joining their mailing list, because they send out emails with 99 cent deals all the time. Today’s review is actually from one of those deals, and I’m excited to talk about it! To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to think of The Woman on The Bench, because it started out kind of slow, but as I read more, I really enjoyed the trip it took me on.
I’ve made a decision in 2024 to read mostly indie books. This is usually the case, just because I enjoy them more than most mainstream books, but I tried so hard last year to clear out my netgalley queue. I found myself reading more mainstream, especially toward the end of the year, because Netgalley had more of them than I normally read. Luckily, I enjoyed most of them, which was nice, but I really want to put more of my reading energy into indie books this year. I just really love promoting them and talking about them. So, with that in mind, you can expect more reviews from indie and small press publishers, such as The Woman on The Bench. Enjoy!
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Synopsis
Mark’s wife, Cecilia, thinks he quit smoking. But, every once in a while, he’ll sneak out for a private cigarette, such as one night at a friend’s party. On this particular night, he meets Alice, and is immediately taken with her. Mark’s marriage to Cecilia has gone the “loveless” route, and Mark blames it on the loss of their child 8 months before. So, when Alice seems as taken with him as he is with her, Mark decides it’s time to do something for himself.
Mark’s obsession with Alice takes a dark turn, when she suggests something that will allow them to be free of Cecilia, and free to live a life together. Will Mark accept her ideas, or leave Alice to return to his wife and try to fix his marriage?
Hailed as a “gripping psychological thriller,” The Woman on The Bench will keep you guessing until the end.
Excerpt
She holds up her own cigarette, rests it between her lips. When she speaks, the tip wiggles up and down. ‘Light?’
‘Sure,’ I say, reaching into my pocket. And as I do, I study her. She’s beautiful. Petite, dark hair, wide eyes. I find the lighter, and she leans into the light of the small flame. Her skin is smooth, flawless. She has the eyes of someone who smiles often. We’re alone, out here. It’s unsettling to be alone with someone beautiful.
‘Thanks,’ she says once her cigarette is lit. She leans back, waves the smoke away. When she sets her eyes on me again, there’s a spark shining in there.
‘I scared you,’ she says. It’s not a question.
I laugh. ‘Was it that obvious?’
‘Yup.’ She takes a puff, nods towards my cigarette. ‘Not supposed to?’
I peer down at its glowing end and shake my head. It’s my third one this week. Not too bad. ‘No,’ I say. ‘Not really.’
Someone has turned up the music inside. It’s a track I don’t recognise. I stopped recognising songs around the age of thirty. The baseline thumps inside my chest. Hers too, I imagine.
‘Oh well,’ she says, her lips curling upwards, with a light, carefree shrug. That’s it. Not judgement at all. Just plain, simple, spontaneous acceptance. It’s nice.
We share a moment’s silence. Comfortable silence. She leans against the wall, this stranger, the same way I am, and looks up towards the sky. It’s night-time, the city lights drowning out the stars. Light pollution, they call it.
I sneak a glance at her body. My eyes hesitate on her narrow waist, the curve of her hips and back. I have thoughts. When I look up again, she’s looking back at me. I’m pretty sure my face has gone red. I take a quick drag, the smoke drifting into my right eye. It stings, but I pretend it doesn’t. I fumble for words, come up with a rather lame, ‘So, you’re a friend of Jackie’s?’ I hardly know Jackie, our host. I’m a friend of a friend.
She doesn’t answer immediately. For a second, her expression seems to be saying, I saw you looking at me. And then, just maybe: And I don’t mind.
‘Sort of,’ she says. ‘I’m here with Michael. You know him? Tall, blond hair? He’s wearing a leather jacket.’
A ridiculous, pointy prickle of jealousy somewhere inside my chest. Of course she’s here with someone. We’re in our late thirties (although she might be slightly younger), someone like her is unlikely to be single.
‘Um, not sure,’ I say, although I’ve already forgotten the bloke’s name and description. I’m finding it hard to focus on anything else but her.
‘It’s odd, isn’t it?’ she says, waving a hand towards the door we both walked out of, to stand here in this ill-lit back garden. Beyond that door, the party continues. ‘Making new friends as an adult. Feels like there’s no point.’
I nod, chuckle. I agree. In fact, I’m quite sure I’ve often stated the same myself. I have the same friends I’ve had since the age of twelve. Colleagues, acquaintances: I sometimes refer to them as friends too, but it never rings sincere when I do. Then I wonder if she means us, if she’s confessing to me that she doesn’t really want to know me, so no point in pretending. Except, that’s not how it sounds, at all.
I’m about to reply when someone else steps out. Before I realise, my hand darts behind my back, concealing the cigarette. We go quiet, and I can’t help feeling like we’re both irritated by the interruption. Not only on account of my smoking, that is. We’ve been interrupted, but there’s also a strange feeling of having been caught.
My Thoughts
Ok, so The Woman on The Bench didn’t actually keep me guessing. I think I’ve read so many books in the “psychological thriller” genre, that they are more predictable for me. Fortunately, that didn’t stop me from continuing to turn pages (or in my case, scroll on my kindle) and didn’t stop me from reading. Even though I thought I knew what was going on, I needed to get to the end to see if I was right.
I was right. Just not about everything. I still found some twists I didn’t expect.
Characters
Characters in a thriller are typically a little more two-dimensional than characters in other books. I don’t have a problem with that, because the thrills and twists usually depend on the characters having specific personality traits. So the characters don’t affect my enjoyment of the story at all. I tend to expect them to be a certain way.
Mark
The Woman on The Bench is told in first person, from Mark’s point of view. The only motivations for things happening throughout the story are either Mark’s, or his assumptions about other motivations. Unfortunately, this means we don’t really find out the truth until the end of the book. Which, I guess, is the author’s intent. I do enjoy books that end the way this one did, because it offers closure, but that closure comes with a healthy dose of “ok, what now?”
Anne
I never really trusted Anne. Not because she was a bad person, but I’ve read enough books in this particular genre that the trope of “beautiful woman gets man to stray” feels a little over-used. I do think the author did a good job of giving Anne a personality, rather than just depending on her looks for everything. When men write female characters, they tend to get pigeonholed into certain personality traits, and I don’t think Anne embodied any of them specifically. I appreciated that.
Cecelia
Cecilia annoyed me. Again, not because she was a badly written character, but mostly because she was made out to be stupid. Again, The Woman on The Bench is written from Mark’s point of view, so it’s not necessarily that Cecilia IS stupid, more that Mark thinks she is. Through most of the book, he thinks he’s actually hiding his smoking, because she never calls him on it. My thought was, “Ok, it’s pretty much impossible NOT to smell cigarettes on someone, so how does she not KNOW he’s still sneaking the occasional cigarette?”
I won’t give anything away, but that part of the book frustrated me to no end. I guess Mark is just a dumbass.
Pacing
The Woman on The Bench has good pacing. At first, I thought the story was all about Mark’s deciding whether to cheat on his wife, and justifying why he wasn’t cheating. As the story progressed, the few twists that entered into the story became more pronounced, and the story picked up.
I will admit, I almost DNF’d The Woman on The Bench, because I didn’t want to read ANOTHER cheating book. I get so tired of those! This book was different, though, so if you get into it and start thinking it isn’t for you, I urge you to give it a little more time. I was glad I did.
Setting
At times during the book, I felt like I was watching a movie in my head. Eliot’s descriptions of the various settings were so vivid that I felt like I was right there, looking through Mark’s eyes. The Woman on The Bench is a contemporary book, set in London and a couple surrounding areas, but even though I’ve never been there, I feel like I would recognize “the bench” or “the cottage” even though I’ve never actually seen either of those things.
Recommendation
I definitely recommend The Woman on the Bench. Despite its feeling predictable at times, the book was still really good. I enjoyed it very much. If you like thrillers, or stories with a twist you may or may not see coming, you’ll enjoy this book. If you’re interested in purchasing The Woman on The Bench, please click below. My affiliate link will provide me with a small commission, and helps to support this website. I appreciate it more than I can ever tell you!
I’m sold! Take me to The Woman on The Bench on Amazon!
Conclusion
Inkubator Books publishes some of the funnest, most thrilling books I’ve read in a long time. They specialize in standalone thrillers, and often put books on sale for 99 cents. Head over to their website to sign up for the mailing list. You’ll get notifications when they put a book on sale.
I hope you enjoyed this review of The Woman on The Bench, by Eliot Stevens. Let me know in the comments what you think of my review, and whether you’ll read the book or not! If you’ve already read it, I wanna know whether you agree with my thoughts!
Until Next Time, Friends!
Loving your blog from a fellow book blogger
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