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Sarah Schulman, People in Trouble
Sarah Schulman, The Child
Sarah Schulman, The Mere Future

2011 was the year in which I discovered Sarah Schulman. Her work focuses relentlessly on the lives of lesbians and gay men, and she tackles hard subjects with uncompromising honesty. Her work can be stylistically difficult, and is often controversial, but I have found the three novels I of hers that I have read so far to be both compelling and rewarding.

Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

Winterson's classic examination of relationship did not draw me in quite as strongly as some of the other books of hers that I have read, but was still in my mind worth reading.


Laurie R. King, The Language of Bees

My Sherlock fetish, let me show it to you again. I found this volume of King's Mary Russell/Holmes mysteries to be harder to get into than earlier books in the series, but it did start to pick up at the end. And being essentially the first half of a much longer mystery, and thus incomplete, I suppose that makes some sense. On to God of the Hive!


Margaret Atwood, Good Bones

oh my, was this a fun book to read. A slim volume, full of very short fables and vignettes, all of them overflowing with Atwood's delicious and acerbic wit. There is a great deal of critical social commentary and trenchant feminist analysis buried in these small gems.

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Sexing the Cherry, Jeanette Winterson

This is one of those books that is very easy to read and enjoy, and very hard to explain. I read it much earlier in the year, and I’ve been reluctant to write about it because I haven’t been sure where to begin or what to say. I’m still not, but I’m going to try to say something, if for no other reason than reading it is an amazing experience.

This is a beautifully written book with characters that step full-fleshed into your mind and images that linger long after you’ve turned the page. Somewhere between a poem, a fairytale, a hallucination, and a dream, it invites the reader to consider what is the essence of storytelling, once the unities of place, time, plot, causality and even identity are transformed in to a dazzling multiplicity of linkages that observe none of the standard rules of narrative.

Winterson begins the book with two epigraphs:
The Hopi, an Indian tribe, have a language as sophisticated as ours, but no tenses for past, present and future. The division does not exist.

Matter, that thing most solid and the well-known, which you are holding in your hands and which makes up your body, is now known to be mostly empty space. Empty space and points of light.


The two main voices are Jordan, who we discover first as a young boy living in mid-17th century London, and his foster mother, a Rabelaisian giantess known as the Dog Woman for the hounds she raises and trains for races and dog fights.

It is Jordan’s voice we first encounter, telling us at the outset that:
Every journey conceals another journey within its lines; the path not taken and the forgotten angle. These are journeys I wish to record. Not the ones I made, but the ones I might have made, or perhaps did make in some other place or time.
And journey Jordan does, though there is little that we can take for granted in such a record, where the supposed facts of history are intermingled with legends, literary allusions and fairy tales, and the other worlds we find in dreams. As his journeys take him further from the Dog Woman, she also engages in journeys of experience and perception while seemingly remaining situated in the physical space and time of the England of Charles II and Cromwell. And yet, we eventually must come to terms with the possibility that Jordan, sailor and companion to the King’s Gardener on his quests for exotic fruits to fill the royal gardens, and the Dog Woman, massive and crude and lusting for life, are themselves journeys of the mind.

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Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

I must confess, I hadn't read anything by Jeanette Winterson until this spring, when I picked up Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit. I'd been meaning to read her for some time, I'd have multiple recommendations from trusted reader-friends, and I wasn't resisting her, it's just that, well, there's so many books and so little time.

And now I'm glad that I have finally read this book, because I enjoyed it immensely (although I gather than her other books are a stylistic departure from this first novel, so I shall now read something else to see if I enjoy Winterson, or just this reportedly semi-autobiographical coming out story).

Winterson's portrayal of a young lesbian growing up with a deeply religious mother, in the heart of a somewhat quirky fundamentalist church community and an equally quirky small-town working class English neighbourhood is profoundly moving and rather funny all at once - just as life is. Interlaced with the events of the protagonist Jeanette's life are passages of fable and fantasy, including an exploration of the life of Sir Percival (one of several "perfect knights" in the Arthurian mythos), which expand and present new perspectives on Jeanette's quest to discover her true self, as separate from the expectations and prescriptions of those around her.

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