Apples Never Fall 2024 Tv Mini Series Review

Eavesdropping is an art form in itself, practiced by cafe waiters jotting notes behind their order pads and baristas amidst the espresso machine’s hiss. Cleaners absorb secrets while mopping house after house, and even Uber drivers and pedicurists can’t escape the unintentional snippets of conversations. But it’s the loyal hairdressers who hold the greatest repository of tales, gathered over decades of tactile intimacy with their clients.

In Liane Moriarty’s latest novel, “Apples Never Fall,” a mystery unfurls through whispers and fragmented narratives—a suspected murder, a vanished body—each witness contributing their own story. Amidst exams, bills, Tinder dates, and the solitude of widowhood, the characters remain largely unnoticed, treated as invisible fixtures within their service roles. Yet, Moriarty keenly observes their presence and significance.

Moriarty’s narrative skillfully navigates through gentrified absurdities, painting a picture of retail hubs masquerading as Tuscan villages and memoir classes populated by women clad in tailored pants and pearl earrings. Amidst leafy streets adorned with designer dogs and pricey double strollers, Moriarty reigns as the mordant queen of Sydney suburbia.

In this ninth novel, Moriarty ventures into the lives of Joy and Stan Delaney, former tennis stars turned coaches, whose retirement marks the beginning of marital turmoil. As the search for Joy ensues following her disappearance, family dynamics unravel, revealing a tapestry of allegiances, grievances, and unhealed wounds.

Moriarty’s narrative brilliance shines during family gatherings, transforming mundane occasions into explosive confrontations fueled by simmering tensions. Yet, beneath the familial chaos lies a more profound exploration of everyday violence, gender dynamics, and the pressures of elite sports.

However, amidst the intricacies of family drama, Moriarty introduces a subplot that feels overly contrived—a young woman seeking refuge on the Delaney doorstep, triggering a series of elaborate revelations and revenge schemes. This narrative detour, relying on tired tropes of intimate partner violence, detracts from the novel’s subtleties and leaves readers longing for more from Moriarty’s scabrous wit.

In the end, “Apples Never Fall” feels like an ornate cafe breakfast, meticulously crafted for visual appeal rather than substance. While perfectly readable, one can’t help but yearn for a deeper exploration of themes overshadowed by sensationalist plot twists. As Moriarty herself muses, if Joy had been young and beautiful, her disappearance would have sparked widespread attention. In grafting Joy’s story onto a young, sensationalized stranger, Moriarty perhaps falls into the same trap she critiques.