Like a bowl of fruit, this is a nice book to have flopped open on the kitchen table. You can absentmindedly flip through the gorgeous pictures, with each apple variety described with an encyclopedic entry near the photo, with headings describing the origin, appearance, flavor, texture, season, use, and region. Arranged so consistently, and with the apples grouped according to use ("Bakers and Saucers", "Keepers", etc), it's natural to want to compare them, flipping back and forth. They are all apples, after all, with apple flavor, with apple texture, but each are described with a hyper-nuanced palette usually reserved for the sommelier: "A big blast of banana and licorice, some say coriander, balanced by a fine skein of acidity. Not terribly complicated, but awfully yummy" or "...a knockout combination of peachy tannins and chanterelle fruitiness". It would be a bit cloying if it weren't for the fact that there's some good wit hidden among these descriptions: "Don't eat fresh unless sucking on tea bags is your idea of fun" or "Excellent for selling to people who have never tried one before. A passable baseball stand-in." It's opinionated, but all in good fun, especially since it's the popular varieties that get picked on.
Then there's the prose descriptions, (most are less than a page), which typically describe the heirloom's provenance: a little history, horticulture and economics, or if not, more detail about the taste, placed in context with other varieties. Here the sommelier-talk gives way to story telling. Then you realize, there's some good writing in this book, a light fluid prose that belies the intensive research. A two page spread on the Newtown Pippin, the Forrest Gump of apples, describes a story arc that carries it from the American revolution to the modern hip slow-foodies of NYC. Then there's the expose on how a terrible apple like the Red Delicious came to take over America. You start looking for the good articles, flipping from back to front and back again. Pardon the pun, but it's a bit like bobbing for apples: there's plenty of good ones.
Obviously, this is a book for the aspiring apple geek, and that could be me, but unfortunately I fear that growing up in south Louisiana, I might as well be reading the Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual, for most of these apples I'll never encounter, much less be able to grow. But I can dream, absentmindedly at my kitchen table, as I carve up a Fuji, the most exotic apple I could find, and read the review that reads like a back-handed compliment: "a gourmet jelly bean".