July, 1995

The Book of Apples. John Morgan and Alison Richards. Ebury Press, London, 1993.

This is a valuable, admirable and influential work. Again it exemplifies the authors' deep interest in horticultural history previously demonstrated in A Paradise out of a Common Field, 1990, recalling the role and ambiance of a head gardener in Queen Victoria's realm.

The Book of Apples was reviewed by Elspeth Napier in The New Plantsman, Oct. 1994, and by Loren Tukey in the North American Pomona, Spring, 1994, and in Fruit Varieties Journal, Oct. 1994. Both reviewers are knowledgeable though somewhat guarded. I rather think of the book as a dream come true; it gives pleasure and information to the point that I feel embarrassed by its unnecessary shortcomings. Not as wide-ranging as Muriel Smith's National Apple Register nor as realistically illustrated as Rosanne Sanders' The English Apple (The Apple Book in the USA), it focuses superbly on the primordial reason for eating apples: taste. Where Edward Bunyard's Anatomy of Dessert gives blast raptures and witty apercus, The Book of Apples attempts valiantly to define truly the taste impact of a cultivar refraining from generalities such as "sweet," "rich," "subacid," "good" and "sprightly". For too long the taste descriptions of apple varieties were jammed into a few molds by judges who had no taste buds (or no urge to consult theirs), or who felt that generalities best translate into consumer appeal. Even the enlightened U.P. Hedrick classified "Gravenstein," "Golden Delicious," "Rome Beauty" and "Wolf River" all as aromatic. This Book of Apples spells out important taste differences.

The apple portraits contributed by prize-winning botanical artist Elizabeth Dowle are, one senses, pure delight in their original form. Reproduced here, however, and wishfully designated as "plates," all 32 are printed in the same restricted colour range dominated by sulphur yellow and a stereotype foliage green. Often the printed text on the back of the so-called plate shows through. A novice, judging by the colouring, will indeed feel that some cultivars are interchangeable. Identifying "McIntosh" or "Saint Edmund's Pippin" is hopeless. Uncoloured illustrations and vignettes from many historical sources are plentiful and well reproduced. Their choice testifies to the author's feel for history, apple philosophy and sense of humour.

Part One delineates the botany and history of the apple in a well-researched, interesting manner from its early cultivation in the Fertile Crescent and its popularity in classical antiquity, to its spread beyond the Alps and thence to Britain. One may be disappointed that the title's promise of general subject coverage reaches historically only to the late 17th century. After that the apple history, science, lore and culinary use is that of Great Britain. Allowing that at one time Great Britain produced much more than its current share of l% of world production, one is left wondering how the apple got on in the rest of the world. North America and other former colonies are mentioned as suppliers of barrelled apples, new varieties and information. Chapter 6, “The Cider Story”, is a gem of a chronicle of British cider with some sidelights on American pre-prohibition ways. It could have been published on its own merit as a competent background manual for quality cider, old-fashioned as well as modern.

Little is to be corrected in Part One. One might point out that the author of The Apples of New York spelled his name “Beach” rather than “Beech”, that Hugh Ronald’s Pyrus Malus Brentfordienses is not graced by “Pomona” in its title, and also that Samuel Hartlib, Cromwell’s Minister of Education, hailed from the Prussian town of Elbing. Neither the substance of Part One nor the interest of a reader should be affected by such slips.

In Part Two, Directory of Varieties, the authors truly delight and dazzle us with such a wealth of fitting and deft taste characterizations. Nowhere have I ever met such fine tuning of organoleptics in an informal context. Here are just a dozen of the numerous specific terms used: green gooseberry, fermented, pear drop, unripe banana, candyfloss, loganberry, crushed fern, Parma violets, steely acid, coffee, rosemary and coumarin. Modifiers such as slightly, pleasantly, hint of, undertones of, almost, cross between and others further define a taste impression. It’s nice to find one of my favorites, the “Saint Edmund’s Pippin” confirmed as “ambrosial, like pear flavoured ice cream”.

Physical and other data on fruit and tree are cleverly expressed by easy codes or abbreviations. Fortunately, many cultivars are of British or American origin and their history, nomenclature and spelling are reported immaculately. But beware where a foreign cultivar is reported on, be it Dutch, French, German or Danish. Here the authors may walk upon cracking ice. They will not realize, for instance, that “Graasten” is the Danish name of the “Gravenstein” apple and of the castle where it originated. Or that “Baumann’s Reinette” originated by Van Mons in Belgium, was dedicated to the Baumann Bros. at Bollviller (where did Muriel Smith get Bouxwiller from?) in the French Alsace.

Only a handful of doubtful entries involving cultivar history itself were found and about three dozen errata, many of which the line editor should have caught. Applying English grammar to create words in a foreign language is a prominent cause of blunder. So is the inventing or rearranging of diacritics, and sloppy copying of foreign words.

However, against the background of the authors’ immense labour of love, the question of whether an error is trivial or not can only be answered by the reader.