This novel is set in 1970s Ireland and is about 2 lonely hearts who meet and fall in love. With dialogue like "Deed ye might-a been", the author seems to have got the Irish dialect muddled up with 16th century farming slang. Unfortunately, the plot does not redeem the clumsy dialogue, as it is achingly predictable and dreadfully stereotypical.
Reading this is like walking down a very long, straight road (I am imagining one of those tarmac-ed 2 lane roads somewhere in middle America with little scenery and on which you could film a mediocre One Direction music video without inconveniencing a single passing vehicle) - you can see your destination clearly the whole time but the trudge seemingly takes your whole life.
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