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A review by zoolmcg
Apples by Richard Milward
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
I’ve wanted to read this book ever since I’d seen it on my dad’s shelf when I was younger. All I knew about Milward was that he was Middlesbrough born, just like me. A local author’s novel(s) sitting on a bookshelf in my house has done so much to inspire me in my own writing, and I hadn’t even read it til now.
Apples is a stunning piece of work that delivers the slight highs and incredible lows of young adulthood in this area. The setting itself is as much a character as Adam, Eve, and the rest of the cast, with specific and regional details I’ve never seen in literature before.
To begin with, I have to say how much I loved the voices. While I thought the use of slurs was a bit much (even if we are aiming for gritty and realistic dialogue), I loved seeing the regional vernacular of the area reflected on the page. The first line is a belter, reminiscent of Camus’ beginning of The Outsider, and sucks you right into the tragedy that this story is bound to be. Dialogue and character interactions often don’t reveal what people really think, with that being reserved for the changing perspectives throughout - something this is very well executed, especially when it’s abstract like the butterfly and the streetlights.
I think Eve’s narrations were always my favourite, and for a male author to write a teenage girl’s worldview like that so well was very impressive to see. Her conflicts at home come out in her choices to get wrecked, and I think I only wish we had more reflections on that, on someone else seeing the self-destruction beyond her being labelled a slag. Some of the emotions regarding her mother’s diagnosis are swept over a lot, but I suppose it only makes sense because of how much she wants to get out of her head.
Themes of violence and assault are extremely prevalent here, but I never found it to be too over the top or gratuitous. Beginning with Adam’s father and ending once again with Gaz’ sexual crimes, we see these teenagers grapple with such heavy shit while brushing it off or burying it deep. That first scene at school with the army recruiter singling Adam out is tragic, and it only gets worse from there.
Gaz’ assault of Claire is one of the scariest things I’ve seen unfold in a book in a long time. The culmination of pregnancy and infant murder are harrowing, and I haven’t had to put a book down and step away from it for a few minutes after reading that scene since the horrors in American Psycho. Milward blends the teenage mindset of nonchalance and naivity with these heavily impactful life milestones - virginity, pregnancy, giving birth - and gives us a disjointed and deeply traumatic reflection on characters who only ever find misfortune. The build up to Claire killing the Baby Boy was excellently drawn out; I saw it coming, especially when she started talking about suicide, and then the end of the chapter smacks you across the face and leaved you wholly changed.
Without getting ahead of myself, I have to say that this foreshadowing Eve’s fate was also well structured and laid out. I saw the hints, and on confirmation on the final page I was shellshocked and in tears.
The satisfying arc to Adam’s character comes at the moment he fights back against his dad, something that is equally vengeful and respectable. His father’s initial reaction to his hospitalisation when Gaz attacked him is outrageous in the moment - asking him why he didn’t fight back when such a fight was so unmatched - but it sets up for a perfect response down the road with the two of them. The mistreatment bubbles over, and for the split second that you believe he might be dead, we find ourselves with an Adam who is beginning to break free from the underdog character we first meet him as.
His second arc, his love live/sex life, culminates in a different way, but serves just as sensically. He couldn’t lose his virginity in this novel because that is not they type of lad he is - he isn’t a Gaz or a Dan or a Ben or any of them. He’s an Adam that, while is able to find his wings in certain ways, cannot be rewarded with sexual union when it isn’t in his remit of ability. The girls want bastards because all they know are bastards, from teachers to fathers to strangers, and Adam’s gentleness cannot fit into that equation (at least for the duration of this story).
Other little parts I loved that are worth mentioning are Debbie’s section of backwards writing, which I took (entertained) pains to read aloud backwards. Her character wasn’t really fleshed out, but the little story in there was worth it just for the laughs of it. Adam’s references to The Beatles were pretty good too, although I didn’t get all of them, I loved the imaged of him zoning out to Revolution 9.
Eve’s ending in Majorca is gut wrenching. I feared ever since seeing Gaz zip up his fly and Eve feel her soreness at Rachel’s party that she was going to be a victim in the same way Claire had been. When Claire called Gaz and he said he’d slept with her, things started falling into place, and that final line about her and Sydney pushed me over the edge. It’s a perfectly balanced and expected ending, and yet I still yearn for more of these characters’ lives. Where are they now? What happened to them? Are they okay yet? We can never know, and that’s exactly they type of tragedy I love to read.
I can’t wait to read more of Milward’s work, including his newest, Man Eating Typewriter. I’ve heard a lot about his form choices in Ten Story Love Song, which differ from the formatting and style of this novel, but I’m looking forward to getting into a piece of work that’s more unconventional than standard prose. It’s great to see and admire creatives from Middlesbrough, and I can see myself adopting him as a great role model for my own practise too.
Apples is a stunning piece of work that delivers the slight highs and incredible lows of young adulthood in this area. The setting itself is as much a character as Adam, Eve, and the rest of the cast, with specific and regional details I’ve never seen in literature before.
To begin with, I have to say how much I loved the voices. While I thought the use of slurs was a bit much (even if we are aiming for gritty and realistic dialogue), I loved seeing the regional vernacular of the area reflected on the page. The first line is a belter, reminiscent of Camus’ beginning of The Outsider, and sucks you right into the tragedy that this story is bound to be. Dialogue and character interactions often don’t reveal what people really think, with that being reserved for the changing perspectives throughout - something this is very well executed, especially when it’s abstract like the butterfly and the streetlights.
I think Eve’s narrations were always my favourite, and for a male author to write a teenage girl’s worldview like that so well was very impressive to see. Her conflicts at home come out in her choices to get wrecked, and I think I only wish we had more reflections on that, on someone else seeing the self-destruction beyond her being labelled a slag. Some of the emotions regarding her mother’s diagnosis are swept over a lot, but I suppose it only makes sense because of how much she wants to get out of her head.
Themes of violence and assault are extremely prevalent here, but I never found it to be too over the top or gratuitous. Beginning with Adam’s father and ending once again with Gaz’ sexual crimes, we see these teenagers grapple with such heavy shit while brushing it off or burying it deep. That first scene at school with the army recruiter singling Adam out is tragic, and it only gets worse from there.
Without getting ahead of myself, I have to say that this foreshadowing Eve’s fate was also well structured and laid out. I saw the hints, and on confirmation on the final page I was shellshocked and in tears.
His second arc, his love live/sex life, culminates in a different way, but serves just as sensically. He couldn’t lose his virginity in this novel because that is not they type of lad he is - he isn’t a Gaz or a Dan or a Ben or any of them. He’s an Adam that, while is able to find his wings in certain ways, cannot be rewarded with sexual union when it isn’t in his remit of ability. The girls want bastards because all they know are bastards, from teachers to fathers to strangers, and Adam’s gentleness cannot fit into that equation (at least for the duration of this story).
Other little parts I loved that are worth mentioning are Debbie’s section of backwards writing, which I took (entertained) pains to read aloud backwards. Her character wasn’t really fleshed out, but the little story in there was worth it just for the laughs of it. Adam’s references to The Beatles were pretty good too, although I didn’t get all of them, I loved the imaged of him zoning out to Revolution 9.
I can’t wait to read more of Milward’s work, including his newest, Man Eating Typewriter. I’ve heard a lot about his form choices in Ten Story Love Song, which differ from the formatting and style of this novel, but I’m looking forward to getting into a piece of work that’s more unconventional than standard prose. It’s great to see and admire creatives from Middlesbrough, and I can see myself adopting him as a great role model for my own practise too.