Review: Jeanette Winterson’s “Written on the Body”
Don’t come at me with the baloney that the narrator is an unnamed “Lothario, gender undeclared” (per the blurb). Bollocks. She’s totally a dyke. (Else, why the scene in the urinal, hmm?) The tale: Narrator, survivor of many conquests of/by married women, is enraptured by redheaded Australian Louise. Thankfully, it is reciprocal. But then, Louise’s slighted husband has news for Narrator, and the corporeal worship from afar begins. Will love conquer all? A gripping book, gorgeously written, poetic, about ladies in love. What’s not to like? Read away, highly recommended. Glad that Winterson has proven her mettle again.
Where it came from: JI’s bookshelf
Time and manner of reading: Evening armchair devour
Where it went: Home
Reminds me of/that: The pleasure of a satisfying reread
Who I’d recommend it to: Readers, particularly lady-lovers, after dramatic protestations of love
Also reading: Being Alive edited by Neil Astley; Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust; 142 Strand by Rosemary Ashton