To every thing there is a season

Mr Wigg by Inga Simpson

(Hachette) Pp. 292

Mr Wigg is a widow who potters about his orchard, preserving fruit, listening to cricket, mourning his wife, telling stories to and cooking with his grandchildren, and watching as his new neighbours plant vines on the old farm land. The tagline is, “A novel that celebrates the small things in life”, and there is a gentle feel to the prose as it follows the seasons with planting, pruning, harvesting and preserving. This is deceptive, however, as there are spectres looming at the edges of progress and destruction; Vietnam and family rifts; ageing and loss.

Mr Wigg sees his fruit trees as personalities and imagines that they talk to each other with personalities and petty jealousies. The orchard encapsulates all his memories and aspirations. Inga Simpson writes of the different fruit like a poetic greengrocer, but always in Mr Wigg’s words, conjuring them and their stories from the air and the soil. Who knew that the provenance of these common fruits would be interesting? It is, because Mr Wigg remains in awe of the fruits he grows, engaging the reader with his ruminating non-didactic style.

Fruit isn’t always sweet, and neither, for all its bucolic images of collecting eggs, pruning fruit trees and chopping wood, is farming. Mr Wigg’s son frequently visits him to remind him of the things he can no longer do with his Parkinson’s and forgetfulness. Mr Wigg used to help the blacksmith and now has his tools; making things in his shed with the honest labour of the land. He invents a fruit-drying machine, but when he attempts to build one from his sketches, he has an accident with the bench saw. He fights against modernisation because he enjoys the old ways; why should he use time-saving devices when he doesn’t know what to do with his extra time?

His attitudes are also archaic, and it is his inherent sexism which caused a family schism. It never occurred to him to interest his daughter in the running of the farm; always assuming his son would take over. When he gives the farm to his son and nothing to his daughter, she is understandably upset, and lawyers become involved.

His late wife dominates his thoughts, as one would expect. Their relationship was full of love but not without irritation. He captures the momentous (such as family conflict and illness) along with the mundane: “His wife had buttoned his shirt cuffs for him even before the Parkinson’s came on. His dress shirts, in particular, had such tiny buttonholes.” He initially struggles with the pointlessness of existence without her, but he comes to realise that, “Life had a way of going on whether you were interested or not, and then you found yourself taking pleasure in a few small things, and a few more.”

Future generations provide continuity, and his happiest moments are with his grandchildren, cooking and telling stories. “Not everything that is new is better”; but not everything that is new is bad, either.

Friday Five: How Do You LIke Them Apples?

Let's hear it for apples - yes, that's right: a round of applause (ha!) for the versatile fruit. Admittedly it isn't the best name for a child (Gwyneth always seemed a little bonkers, bless her), but it is the fruit of legend - from the tree of knowledge in the garden of Eden to being the foodstuff of choice to shoot off one's chid's head with an arrow.

Never mind the computing associations, apples are meant to be given to teachers (bribes) and keep doctors at bay (blackmail?). They are bobbed at Halloween and the peel is tossed over the shoulder to form the initial of one's future spouse. As the big one is New York, I used to think that LA stood for Little Apple on the opposite American coast. My Dad once brought me back a cuddly racoon toy from a trip to California that I named thus.

Apples can be made into fabulous cider and scrumpy - we have all had 'experiences' with this stuff, that you don't realise is quite so strong until you try to stand up or walk in fresh air. When I used to go orienteering in the Adirondacks and the Appalachians in NY, there was often a stall with hot spicy apple juice at the finish - it almost made it worth it. When I recounted this to a friend, she used to make it and add a tot of rum - that definitely made it worth it!

Anyone who is lucky enough to have an apple tree in the garden knows what a delight it is to pluck the fresh fruit from the branch and bite straight into the flesh. Orchards are special places and The Cider House Rules is one of my favourite books. And there are other ways to eat apples to make them the true fruit of the gods.

Chaussons aux pommes

5 Great Ways to Eat Apples:

1. Chausson aux pommes - when I lived in France, the man of the house would go to the boulangerie every Saturday and return with paper bags full of Parisian pastries - among the croissants aux armandes, pains au chocolat, pains aux raisins and mille-feuilles (all of which were divine), the chaussons aux pommes were my absolute favourite. The very thought of them still makes me drool. And no, they don't taste the same if you call them apple turnovers.
2. Waldorf salad - apples, walnuts, celery (add grapes if you must) in a mayonnaise dressing served on a bed of lettuce - sheer crunchy goodness.
3. Soups - from curried celery to blue cheese or butternut pumpkin, the addition of apple helps enhance the flavour in these delicious autumn/winter warmers.
4. Cubed or sliced and dipped in cheese fondue - a charming and tasty social meal.
5. Apple crumble - always a favourite dessert.

Cheese fondue with apples