by Jeanette Winterson
From Publishers Weekly
Composed in tight, spare prose echoing Web communications, Winterson’s seventh novel takes its cues from the Internet, where reality is implied but never inherent. Like the protagonist of her previous novel, Written on the Body, narrator Ali is not defined by sex. An Internet writer, she/he creates stories for people, offering “Freedom, just for one night,” allowing her e-mail clients to be whoever they want to be. In return, they are required to understand that, like customers at Verde, the famous old costume shop in London where Ali lives, they may enter as themselves and leave as someone else. Such is the transformation Ali undergoes after a brief liaison in Paris with a married woman. Falling desperately in love, Ali follows the unnamed woman to Capri and attempts to convince her to leave her husband. Entwining this love story with accounts of Turkish tulip bulbs disguised as testicles, and tales of Lancelot and Guinevere, Winterson treads a slippery slope between linear storytelling and multidimensional cyberfiction. Most conventional, but also most egregious, is a digression recounting Ali’s childhood as the adopted daughter of scrap-yard owners who are terrified of straying out into the Wilderness (the real world), but still hope that one day their daughter will find the Promised Land that exists in the heart. Winterson’s dashing, sensually stylish writing is marred by heavy-handed symbolism, but the concept of transformation is adeptly juggled throughout. The brightly colored jacket, featuring two suggestively limp tulips, plays directly to the sensibility of Winterson’s many fans. (Nov. 3)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc. —This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
I’ve been working every day on my abs
some days more than others but the fruits of my labors are prooving themselves well worth the effort
The World and Other Places
by Jeanette Winterson
Her first short story collection exhibits the multitude of talents that have made English novelist Jeanette Winterson not just admired but beloved by her many fans. There are the surprising, fresh little phrases minted expressly to convey the delicate realities of the made-up world. There’s the humor, fierce and sly but always kind. There’s the imagination that changes gender and historical epoch at whim, and does so convincingly; and the characters themselves, a sundry bunch of men and women not necessarily successful or commendable but always, somehow, likable. Best of all, by their very diversity, these stories reveal glimpses of the smart and enigmatic woman behind the work.
In “Atlantic Crossing,” Winterson becomes a middle-aged businessman of the mid-20th century, accidentally assigned to share his second-class cabin with a young black woman on a transatlantic crossing. In the realm of event, little happens, but in its depth of perception and what it tells of the nuances of regret, the story is as rich as a novel in another writer’s hands. A few scant pages later, Winterson becomes a kind of lost female Homer, telling Orion’s story from Artemis’s point of view: “When she returned she saw this huge rag of a man eating her goat, raw…. His reputation hung about him like bad breath.” In “The Poetics of Sex,” she creates a lesbian love story that evokes her characters’ personalities as explicitly as their erotic pleasures. “The 24-Hour Dog,” the story of a woman writer returning a puppy she had thought to adopt, is remorseless as a psychological thriller in the squirmy depths it plumbs: “I had made every preparation, every calculation, except for those two essentials that could not be calculated: his heart and mine.” Read The World and Other Places twice, once for instruction, once for joy. —Joyce Thompson