Jeanette is a small town girl adopted by an active church member, whose religious beliefs bordered cultish insanity. Her mother’s and the whole church community’s influence followed her formative years. She carried their beliefs naively and was shunned at school for doing weird things out of faith.
As ingrained by her adoptive mother, she became a pastor
expecting to be a missionary to “save souls”. Young and
precocious, Jeanette developed an early interest in the nature of romantic
relationships, most especially that of marriage. She would eavesdrop and
observe adults trying to figure out how best to go about it when her time comes.
Getting very little information that is ambiguous to her, she
fell in love
by mistake one fateful
day at the market. With a girl named Melanie. This Unnatural Passion led her to the very thing that would estrange her
to the faith she thought she understood.
She was denounced by
the church and forced to leave home.
Jeanette returned after a while following the death of her
dear friend. She spent time alone one day and came to terms with the frailty of
human love and found a deeper understanding of herself.
"Oranges Are
Not The Only Fruit" is Jeanette Winterson’s first novel. It is a
semi-autobiography which only became apparent to me when I read the
introduction from start to finish.
It’s my
second Winterson; third had I finished “The Powerbook” – I disliked that one
enough to not finish it. (Though this could be faulted to my very little
knowledge of the literature she alluded to).
On the other
hand, her “Lighthousekeeping” kept me reeling and almost tearful a few days
after. As it is, I have mixed feelings with her books. So I didn’t have big
expectations when I started reading.
(demons, circles and how not to eat oranges)
The book is
laden with dark moments but Winterson did away from sentimentality and drama.
Just when it gets heavy, some kind of comic punch or childlike perspective
would cut in. I find this book mildly funny at the beginning. Sometimes
satirically sometimes just plain humour. But you can’t not take it seriously.
I
like that even while exposing the evils of twisted faith there is something
detached and non-judging about how it was told. Yet that did not prevent one from
feeling for the main character and her supporters.
She employed
parts of known literature to highlight some turning points. And sometimes veered
away from the main story line to tell another -- something of what she referred
to as spiral narrative. Though I
praise the author’s originality, I sometimes struggle in following the story thanks
to my still strongly linear reading brain.
As shared in the introduction, this was her
first venture in this kind of writing and it has indeed become her
signature style.
Oranges
, (yes the fruits),would often show up in the different parts of the novel with the protagonist being
tired of them.I wanted to think of it as a symbol for the
rigidity of religious fundamentalist’s beliefs. At the end, she mentioned
pineapple dishes being served again and again, her mom saying, “after all,
oranges are not the only fruit. “ This could stand for the softening of those
beliefs. Or finally leaving their past-- those damned "oranges" behind.
I like how
she found real friendship in people from inside the church too. One of them
turned out to be a lesbian herself. It made up for the cruelty and folly of most characters. And I can't help mentioning,the insignificance
of her father’s presence.
The fictions
I enjoyed when I was much younger are those with typical beginning, middle and
clear cut endings. Did this and that finally happen / not happen? How will
these events lead to the climax and so on...
As I grow older, stumbling upon one author after another, I slowly discovered a different brand of reading pleasure. I found out one can bask in the beauty of the prose without caring much about how things will actually turn out.
As I grow older, stumbling upon one author after another, I slowly discovered a different brand of reading pleasure. I found out one can bask in the beauty of the prose without caring much about how things will actually turn out.
I
acknowledge how highly subjective this is. Nonetheless, when an author’s
writing style itself draws you in, it is safe to say that they have a very
special way with words. This is how I felt with Oranges.
If my
younger self could see the synopsis above, I’m sure she’ll dismiss it as too
heavy, unimaginative or even clichéd. And so when I find myself reading these
“who-cares-about-the-ending” types, it’s almost always because I leafed through
it beforehand or found the previews very limited, but somehow interesting.
The young
Jeanette’s ruminations comforted me. But in no terms does the novel seek to
comfort. It is a meditation on a troubled soul told from the point of view of a
young lesbian alongside conventional moral values. On some levels, a violent
seeking of self-acceptance.
“ Leaning on the coffee table was the
orange demon.
I’ve gone mad I thought.
‘That may
well be so, ‘agreed the demon evenly.
‘So make the most of it.’
‘Demons are evil, aren’t they?’ I
asked, worried.
‘Not quite, they’re just different,
and difficult.’
‘If I keep you what will happen?’
‘You’ll have a difficult, different
time.’
‘Is it worth it?’
‘That’s up to you.’ "
Thirty years after its publication, we’ve already
witnessed major changes on our society’s views on sexual preferences But while
this is so, the deeper questions she posed was not even directed at the church
or at a judging society. Instead, she turned into herself asking difficult
questions and recognizing that what she searches for (true love) might be
impossible but still- might exist. Or maybe not.
“ I don’t even know if God exists but
I do know that if God is your emotional role model, very few human
relationships will match up to it. “
These
reflections were mostly laid out at the ending and I was no longer comforted at
that point.
“The unknownness of my needs
frightens me.
I do not know how huge they are, or
how high they are,
I only know that they are not being met.”
I wanted a
sort of redemption for her. Never mind her uneventful return. I was hoping for an epiphany, a deed, or a
scene, anything to show that she transcended her suffering. To tell everyone
just how wrong they were about love.
But the book ended with her wishing she
could go back in time when her faith was not yet so badly shaken.
Still there
is strength in admitting :
“I seemed to
have run in a great circle, and met myself again on the starting line.”
