Review Detail

When I first heard about Madapple, my reaction was basically, “Well who would ever want to read that?” This book sounded really crazy, and I heard from quite a few reviewers that it was disturbing and/or nasty. In the end, I decided to read Madapple because it sounded so weird and different.

And yes, Madapple is very odd. While I was reading this book, I got this very surreal vibe, like the entirety of Madapple takes place inside a dream. It was just so out there, so strange. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s very interesting to read a book that seems to be in some alternate reality.

The story itself was also unusual. Among other things, Madapple dealt with murder, incest, immaculate conception, and botany. Unexpected combination, yes. Meldrum alternated her chapters between scenes from Aslaug’s point of view and courtroom dialogue, where Aslaug is being tried for murder. I’m not one of past/present split narratives, but I think that worked in Madapple.

However, I only had one big problem with Madapple, and that was the courtroom scenes. They were straight dialogue, no speaker tags or description, and very monotonous. Initially, I thought those parts were interesting, but over time they began to grate on me, since every other line was “Objection. Leading.” or “Objection. Speculation.” I mean, yes, that is how a real trial goes, but I started cringing every time one of the attorneys made an objection. It might have been too much.
Madapple’s chief strength was in the way Christina Meldrum let the story unfold. I never felt like Aslaug was leading the reader along, showing me things with a direct and obvious purpose. Her story was very simply told, which worked rather well, given that a lot of the subject matter presented was a little far-fetched.

There aren’t many YA books out there that take immaculate conception seriously, you know.

As a character, Aslaug was a bit too dreamy. Her mother had kept her inside their house all her life, and she’d never met another person except for her mother until after her death. Her approach to life was very naïve and sometimes confusing.
All the characters, in general, seemed to be too extreme. The very (VERY) deveout charismatic pentacostal aunt, the female cousin, Sanne, who jumped on board the virgin birth bandwagon; even Rune, the male cousin, had traces of fantasy about him.

Like I said, Madapple read like a very surreal dream. A good, amazing dream with an unspeakably awesome ending, but still a dream. These types of books aren’t usually my thing, but I was just really impressed with the way Meldrum related her tale, and at times, with her vivid and beautiful turn of phrase.