Reviews with content warning for Physical abuse - Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

I consumed this book: I drenched it in gravy, swallowed it in one, and mopped-up the leftovers with a bit of bread. It was so hard to put down; and I read it in one sitting - which is saying something, as I am a slow reader - as I was so engrossed in the stories and characters presented in Oranges. I would describe this modern classic as a coming of age story about a young girl who is torn between her love of God, the community she was raised within, and her sexuality. It is a story painted in shades of grey, and I truly appreciate the nuances presented, as each character seems to breath, move and crawl out of the page. The characters also aren't always likeable, they don't always make the right choices, or say the right things: but that is life. And more importantly these characters are compelling, believable, and yet still feel eccentric and unique in their characterisation. Winterson is a weaver of words; she splices the core story with fairytales, which mirror the themes of the book and the lives of the characters, and she does this masterfully throughout the book. I may be biased, however, as I have a soft spot for myths and legends. Moreover, her writing style is meaty and evocative. It was never dull reading this book. I laughed and in the same breath I could have cried, and at its core that is what this book is about: it is about pain, how we heal, reflections on the past and how we move on from it (hopefully with ourselves mostly still intact).

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emotional funny inspiring medium-paced

Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes

4.0

I was assigned Oranges are Not the Only Fruit for a literature studies unit in University. Shaking off the shackles of required reading, I decided to read it of my own accord, now three years later.

Jeanette Winterson’s semi-biographical account of her own coming-of-age experience is intriguing and intimate. She has woven fairy tale and legend in to her own less-than-fully-reliable account of her childhood. She makes it clear that history and memory are not as reliable as we may think.

Her experience of discovering, and subsequently being punished and ostracized for, her blossoming sexuality and lesbian identity, is both empowering and saddening. Her personal relationship with religion, and it's hand in her abuse, is equally saddening.

A truly wonderful book.

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