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55 pages 1 hour read

Liane Moriarty

Apples Never Fall

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2021

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Chapters 51-71Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapters 51-71 Summary

Christmas is a disaster for the Delaneys despite Joy’s dogged efforts to bring the family together. As the champagne pours freely, the siblings reflect on their collapsed relationships and how much they miss their partners not being there.

Struggling for conversation topics, the kids comment on the large, ugly purple rug in the living room that, despite Joy’s vocal dislike of it, remains. Stan, meanwhile, is in his den poring over a review copy the legal department’s editors sent over of Harry Haddad’s memoirs to help fact check. Joy tries valiantly to prepare a family dinner only to trigger the smoke detectors when she burns a butter and brown sugar glaze. In a tense confrontation with Stan, who comes in and glibly offers to help Joy with lunch, Joy—without warning or apology—suddenly throws two expensive china cat statues, which belonged to Stan’s mother, against the wall. The rest of the day is a slow-motion catastrophe. The meal is late, and the conversation is strained.

The siblings elect to distance themselves from their parents for most of January. On Valentine’s Day morning, Joy, ever resilient and determined to win back her family, wakes up ready to surprise Stan with an apple crumble, his favorite dessert: “She was a fighter. She was a winner. She was Joy Delaney. She would not give up on this marriage. She would take decisive, aggressive action today” (379). Finding only a single apple in the fridge bin, she decides to take the bike Troy gave her for Christmas and head to the market. On the way back, however, she gets a flat tire and abandons the bike along the road, walking the rest of the way home: “Some days you lose” (381). She arrives back at home in no mood for a confrontation—but Stan, still poring over Haddad’s memoir, confronts her. This time, she returns the volley. She tells him that he cared too much about Harry, ignored his family, and—worst of all—couldn’t see that he wasn’t the coach a kid with that sort of promise needed: “He was better off without you” (388). She even says that she would’ve been a better coach for Harry Haddad. When Stan, typically, starts to walk out, Joy tries to restrain him and scratches his cheek with an uncut fingernail. Stan pauses, feeling a wellspring of unspoken anger, humiliation, and hurt. However, he doesn’t strike her; he simply turns and leaves.

Just after Stan departs, Joy is surprised to get a call from Savannah. Savannah says that she’s in therapy now and confides that she’s having an affair with a married plastic surgeon. She says that she knows she’s a terrible person for trying to destroy the Delaney family. She tells Joy that she has decided to join one of the charity events run by her brother’s foundation, a 21 Day Off the Grid Challenge to raise money for pediatric cancer research: three weeks in cabins in a remote camp five hours from Sydney, a chance to get away and think about things. Impulsively Joy asks to go with her. She scribbles a hasty note, which she tacks to the fridge with a magnet. Without her glasses, she texts a quick message to her kids. Unable to find her phone (she accidentally kicked it under the bed), Joy departs for three weeks off the grid.

Of course, no one back in Sydney knows this. The siblings struggle with the growing fear that their father may have snapped after learning about his wife’s complicity in destroying his one chance at tennis glory. Amy recalls her father’s toast at her wedding, when he extolled the joy and power of love, and she can’t believe he’s capable of murder.

Logan reunites with Indira when she comes to town for a baby shower—he shows her a screenshot of a three-bedroom house he wants to buy for them and, in tears, an engagement ring he wants to give her as soon as the complications with his parents are resolved. He tells her that she is “bloody beautiful.” Troy meets up with Claire, who has temporarily moved back to Sydney to try to get pregnant from their frozen embryos. However, it’s Simon, Amy’s on-again-off-again computer nerd boyfriend, who—googling Harry Haddad to find some clue about what Joy’s garbled text message might mean—stumbles onto the announcement of the 21 Day Off the Grid Challenge and sees a connection: The number 21 appeared in Joy’s garbled text message.

Meanwhile, detectives combing the area around the Delaney home recover a bloody blouse, one of Joy’s, that was carelessly buried. Later, the neighbor’s surveillance camera shows a grainy but unmistakable image of Stan at night hauling a roll of carpet to his car and struggling to put it in the trunk.

Twenty days have passed since Joy vanished. The detectives take Stan to police headquarters for interrogation in a windowless room. They ask about the argument that neighbors heard on Valentine’s Day, about the scratches on Stan’s cheeks, about the bloody blouse they recovered, and about the carpeting. Stan is adamant: After he argued with Joy about Harry Haddad, Stan left the house for the day—and when he returned, Joy was gone. Nevertheless, he decides that he wants a lawyer.

The next day, the police head to the Delaneys to arrest Stan for the murder. It’s at that moment that a stunned and confused Joy walks into the house. She tells them that she left a note—but they figure out that the magnet didn’t hold and the dog must have eaten it. Stan tells the police that to stay sane while Joy was gone, he finally disposed of the rug she so hated and sanded the floor beneath to a wonderfully polished glow. Joy bled on the blouse while gardening and tossed it away, but a neighbor’s cat apparently dragged it to its favorite spot in the garden and buried it. Joy tells them about her retreat—how she and Savannah both had time to think about their lives, the mistakes they made, and the chance to reboot their lives. Savannah had apologized for terrorizing the Delaneys and planned to fly home to see her mother in Adelaide. Joy is determined to make her family and her marriage work: “Forgiveness comes easier with age” (440).

The family reunites around Joy’s return. Amy decides to give Simon a chance as a real boyfriend rather than just a friend with benefits. Claire, now pregnant but locked down in Sydney because of the COVID pandemic, resolves to make her pregnancy work and arranges for Troy to have custody rights. The father of a promising tennis whiz approaches Logan and asks whether Logan might be interested in coaching the kid. Stan and Joy are last seen playing mixed doubles—finding in the dynamic of non-competitive doubles tennis a way to express their new commitment to each other.

Savannah flies home to Adelaide. On the long flight, she recalls her last days with her mother—how, sick of her mother’s emotional abuse and control, she essentially imprisoned her in her own bedroom. Savannah, determined to teach her mother what it meant to be starved for all those years, drugged her mother and left her only a handful of protein bars and bottled water, taking the key with her (wearing it around her neck) and gently kissing her goodbye. As the plane climbs high above the clouds, Savannah is uncertain what has happened, telling herself that a resourceful woman could have found numerous ways to get free. However, she may return home to find her mother starved to death. Perhaps the house will smell of “sugar and butter and love. Perhaps it would not” (462). She turns to the man next to her on the plane and says, by way of introduction for what will be a long flight, “My mother plays tennis” (464).

Chapters 51-71 Analysis

In these closing chapters, the novel upends expectations. The storyline that seemed silly, even comical—Savannah’s too-elaborate revenge plot against a family that denied her a banana 15 years earlier—turns deadly and decidedly tragic. Meanwhile, the plot that seemed deadly and tragic—the killing of a wife by a husband who snaps over his wife’s betrayal of his trust—turns decidedly comical, as the entire missing person story hinges on a dog eating a note left on a faulty fridge magnet.

Because what seemed comical turns tragic and what seemed tragic turns comical, the novel both offers and withholds a clear ending. The closing chapter even leaves open the question of whether the goofy and vaguely paranoid Savannah has engineered the cold-blooded killing of her abusive mother.

Joy’s murder plot eventually collapses into a reassuringly non-threatening series of innocent misunderstandings involving the refrigerator note, her misplaced glasses, and her accidentally kicking her cell phone under her bed. Before it does, however, family showdowns—first on Christmas and then on Valentine’s Day—create the environment for therapeutic healing. The encounters between Joy and Stan are tense and ugly. At Christmas, Stan peruses Harry Haddad’s memoir rather than spending time with his family, gathered for their traditional holiday lunch. The secret about Joy’s role in Haddad’s sudden departure from the academy is now out, and Joy is sure that Stan is nursing his anger—and that sitting in his study is his way of charging the holiday with dark emotions. When he comes out to join the family and offers to help Joy any way he can, Joy hears the remark—perhaps genuine, perhaps not—as a petty and snarky reference to her own part in destroying his career: He’s willing to help even though she did everything to hurt him. Breaking the statues is enough to shatter the family meal and keep the family apart for weeks. The scene uses the on-again-off-again kitchen smoke detector alarm to signal that where there’s smoke, there’s fire—that the revelation of Joy’s part in Haddad’s decision isn’t enough.

On Valentine’s Day—a “day that celebrated love” (377)—Joy, determined to make her marriage work, bakes her husband, who has not spoken to her in nearly six weeks, an apple crumble pie just like his mother did. Without addressing the pain they’re both feeling, however, the pie is a gesture as empty as it is ironic. Stan, unable to let go of his anger over Joy’s role in Haddad’s departure and, by extension, in the end of his dreams, confronts her about the whole mess. The confrontation provokes Joy to unburden the pain she has carried for decades: “I gave up my tennis for you” (383). Finally, “she’d said it out loud. All these years it had been there, right on the tip of her tongue” (383)—or actually, she quickly corrects herself, “at the center of her heart” (384).

The moment is as epiphanic as it is cathartic. Stan storms out—but refuses to give in to his anger and strike his wife, as his father did to his mother. It’s a moment in which the novel refutes the iron logic of its title and shows that change and growth are possible, that apples don’t have to fall near the tree. Joy decides to be what she has never been—spontaneous—and go off for a three-week reboot of her life, a chance to reorder her priorities, recharge her amply heart, and prepare to reconnect with a husband she never stopped loving.

When Joy returns (the name is now irresistibly symbolic) and the entire murder mystery is cleared up in a flurry of misunderstandings and coincidences, the Delaney family members, one by one, reveal their determination to similarly restart their heart, to give love the chance it needs. Troy, his ex-wife now pregnant with their child, apologizes for the first time for his boorish and selfish behavior. Logan breaks down in tears when he meets up with Indira for the first time in months, his tears a sign of honest emotion that up to then the indifferent Logan never showed. Amy considers for the first time that Simon could be a real boyfriend and might be better for her than the regimen of therapists she has on call. To quote Troy, “Somehow it would all work out” (395).

It becomes clear that this is no sappy, happy conclusion. As Joy begins to understand how much her family went through during her absence, the novel parallels her therapeutic three weeks to the siblings who each underwent a kind of self-directed therapy, coming to terms with deficiencies in their emotional lives and reaching a clear commitment to getting beyond blame and regret—and to amending those errors. When Joy falls asleep after all the confusions are cleared up and the detectives are satisfied, she offers what could be the novel’s thematic summation:

There was nothing Joy could do to change the outcome of her children’s lives, any more than she could have changed the outcome of any of their matches, no matter how much she bit her lip…sometimes seeing them suffer the tiniest disappointment would be more painful than their most significant losses and at times they would do something so extraordinary, so unexpected, so entirely of their own choice and their own making, it was like a splash of icy water on a hot day…love like that was infinite (446).

However, the story doesn’t end with this affirmation of the joys and sorrows, the trials and successes, of love, marriage, and family. That would be too neat and tidy for a novel intent on anatomizing the messy effects that selfishness and the hunger to control can have on relationships. Instead, the novel closes with the disconcerting image of Savannah revealing—as she flies home for her reunion with her mother—the dark secret behind the key she wears around her neck.

Joy’s murder has been a distraction from the real mystery: Savannah carefully masterminded her mother’s excruciating punishment for her years of compelling Savannah to count every calorie. The account Savannah offers on the plane—drugging her mother, dragging her into the bedroom, leaving the scattering of protein bars and bottled water, and then calmly locking the door from the outside—reveals a depth of villainy that her behavior to this point never belied. She isn’t, as her ex-boyfriend suggested, simply a weird person at times whose plot against the Delaneys is a goofy kind of revenge. Her actions against her mother are a sobering reminder of just how deeply dysfunctional families can truly be. The novel leaves open-ended whether Savannah’s original plan succeeded, leaving her a paradox suspended between simple readings: a victimized manipulator, both weak and strong, calculating and retreating, dangerous yet harmless.

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