Apple and Rain

“Poetry can teach us about ourselves. It can comfort us when we are in despair. It can bring joy. But not only that...it can open us up. It can make our worlds bigger and brighter and clearer. It can *transform* us.”

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I read Sarah Crossan's One not that long ago and I was really impressed by both the prose (the whole book is written in verse) and the story itself. So when I was looking for something good after a few disappointing reads, I r

“Poetry can teach us about ourselves. It can comfort us when we are in despair. It can bring joy. But not only that...it can open us up. It can make our worlds bigger and brighter and clearer. It can *transform* us.”

[

I read Sarah Crossan's One not that long ago and I was really impressed by both the prose (the whole book is written in verse) and the story itself. So when I was looking for something good after a few disappointing reads, I remembered I had a copy of Apple And Rain waiting for me on my shelves. I started reading it expecting it to be similar to One, and that is probably part of the reason why I didn't enjoy it that much. Rather than a full story written in verse, Apple And Rain is a story about poetry with only a few poems incorporated in the text. That isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I wasn't particularly impressed by the story itself. I did like the poems, but the plot, prose and characters are not exactly inspiring. I understand the main character Apple is quite young and that explains part of the 'childish feel' of the book, but I can't say I liked her and most of the plot is a bit farfetched. Rain with her doll, Apple's mother, Apple herself... I just didn't feel it. I know other people seemed to enjoy Apple And Rain though, so don't let this review discourage you if you think you would enjoy it.



When Apple was still a little girl, her mother decided to leave her on a stormy Christmas Eve because she just couldn't take it anymore. Apple has been living with her grandmother ever since, always secretly hoping her mother would return one day. Her grandmother is quite strict and doesn't stop treating her as a child even as Apple grows up, somehow afraid Apple will turn out as her mother... Only pushing Apple right back into her mother's arms when she suddenly returns after eleven years away without a word. Apple's love for her mother makes her blind and she doesn't see the signs for trouble... And soon she will meet someone who is even more lost than she is.



The general idea behind Apple And Rain is interesting even though it's not that original, and I really liked the poetry bits. Those parts would have gotten 4 stars, but unfortunately I wasn't blown away by the rest of it. The plot, prose and characters didn't manage to convince me and most of it just didn't feel credible. It is a really fast read though and has some interesting insights on poetry, so don't discard it if you think you might like it. Still, I would definitely recommend reading One first if you haven't already. (hide spoiler)]

Solitude’ by Apple Apostolopoulou 
At a crowded school concert, the 
 seats all filled with bums, 
I peep out at the audience and I 
 think about my mum. 
She should be sitting at the front 
 and listening to me play,
But she is not here, 
And is not here, 
She’s very far away. 
Instead I have to dream of her, in 
 America on her own, 
Across the Atlantic Ocean, in 
 another place, another time 
 zone. 
Does she close her eyes and 
 think of me? 
Does she close her eyes and 
 smile? 
Does she plan to come home 
 some day 
To be with me, 
Her only child?

‘Apple Afraid’ by Apple Apostolopoulou 
Apple Afraid, afraid of fights, 
Afraid of Christmas, of thundery 
 nights, 
Afraid of butterflies, afraid of 
 slugs,
Afraid of Nana’s kisses, afraid of 
 Dad’s hugs, 
Afraid of circuses, afraid of 
 clowns, 
Afraid of Dad’s moods, afraid of 
 Nana’s frowns,
Afraid of speaking in front of the
 class,
Afraid of being made to look like 
 an ass, 
Afraid of having no friends at 
 school, 
Afraid of all the girls who are 
 easily cool, 
Afraid to be honest, afraid to be 
 true, 
Afraid of Mum turning up out of 
 the blue, 
Afraid of drowning, swallowing 
 water, 
Afraid of being a lousy daughter.

‘War’ by Apple Apostolopoulou 
It doesn’t look like war 
Unless you examine it closely – 
 with your glasses on, 
Drawing your finger over the
 cracks in the friendship. 
We were a pair, 
A team of two 
Until Donna took her 
Away – 
Swooped down and grabbed Pilar 
Like an eagle diving for fish at the 
 edge of the ocean. 
I never thought that could
 happen. 
I thought for ever friends meant 
 just that: 
For ever and for ever and for 
 ever. 
Now I know it means 
Until. 
Until someone better comes 
 along, 
Until the conductor swipes her 
 baton, 
Chooses you, not me, and 
Ends our symphony.

‘Someone I Thought I Loved’ by Apple Apostolopoulou 
I thought a kiss meant 
Everything. 
I thought it meant love – 
Until He kissed me. 
His mouth was moist, his breath 
 like beer,
His face so close I saw the fear 
Of me and what I was. 
Not the girl I wanted to be 
But just 
A Girl. 
A Child. 
A Silliness 
To him, 
And to everyone else who
 laughed 
At the performance. 
My nana always said that
Love is an action. 
I know now she didn’t mean 
 kissing 
Or anything close to it. 
She meant that love is quiet 
 doing – 
A day to day toil in the dark.

Disappointment’ by Apple Apostolopoulou 
All the time Mum was away, 
Eleven long years, 
I saved up my hopes 
Like little pennies in a jar. 
I didn’t know her, so I made her 
 up – 
And I made her perfect. 
In my mind, Mum shimmered like 
 the moon against the sea – 
Ghostly and romantic. 
But now I know that 
She is scratched and stained 
And all that’s left is 
 disappointment. 
I thought when she came back 
I’d have everything that was 
 missing 
From my life.
Now all I have 
Is an empty jar with 
A hole in the bottom to stop 
New hopes from heaping up.

'These I Have Loved' by Apple Apostolopoulou 
These I have loved:
Pork with apple sauce; tea in 
 a heavy mug; 
The smell of new books, and 
 musty ones; 
A girl with red coils for curls 
 – Her scream – Her smile; 
The slap of a blonde dog’s 
 tongue 
Against my face; and an old 
 face – Nana’s; 
A broken fence – a secret 
 pathway between two houses; 
The sinking into a familiar bed, 
Sheets white and crispy clean; 
The return of a woman in a 
 green coat – 
Imperfect and human; The 
 sound of poetry; 
And of pencil lead scuffing the 
 page as I write; 
Made-up stories; and Truth. 
These I have loved.

She boobled down to the dirreny sonce 
Alone, unarmed, her tickery jonced. 
“What me? What my? What cooliers lie here?” 
She whinnied furverly in the ghoulian ear. 

And up he rose like a miney bront, 
Waving his tammons and sleery flont. 
“Don’t wake me, don’t shake me,” the ghoulian gristled, 
And piped his phantons across the spistles. 

A ploon bellowed out over the sheel
And she ran as fast as her miggens could reel. 
“No more dirrenies,” she whispered aloud 
And slumped back down to sleep on her mound.