oranges are not the only fruit by jeanette winterson

'Hello,' I replied, 'I'm never gonna give you up.' 'They are possessed by Satan,' the Pastor chanted. Real feelings aren't trendily postmodern.Īfter I told mother about Melanie. I heard every word but I'm not going to repeat it here. One day my real mother turned up at the door but my mother sent her away. Once upon a time there was a princess who was still not that certain that readers would understand her blurring of time and fiction, so she wrote a chapter called Deuteronomy that everyone skipped. 'Do you think this is an unnatural passion?' I asked. 'Have an orange instead.' But I did let Melanie.

'Don't let anyone touch you down there,' she warned. My mother didn't trust love after she once mistook it for an ulcer. I first noticed Melanie working on the fish stall but it was some weeks before I plucked up the courage to invite her to come to hear Pastor Finch preach. 'Have an orange.' My father was about to say something, but I couldn't be bothered to listen. Once upon a time there was a princess who took the fable of Beauty and the Beast wilfully literally. There was a woman in the street who said she had married a pig. Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who wrote a story in which the prince chopped off the princess's head. 'Good,' said my mother, ramming another orange down my throat. At the Mission I won prizes for handing out Bibles to converts, though a gypsy told me I would never marry. I was also upset not to win a prize for my tableau of the second coming made from a wilting daffodil. I got into a lot of trouble at school because the heathen did not understand they were possessed by the Devil. Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who was worried people would not realise she was a cutting-edge postmodernist. 'They are the only fruit, Jeanette,' she said, portentously. She took me to hospital where the doctors took out my adenoids. My mother went out and I wrote a note to Miss Jewsbury, telling her I couldn't hear.

I still didn't let my father say a word so who knows what he thought.

My mother assumed I was in a state of rapture. Once I went deaf for three months, but no one noticed. 'The Devil is in our midst,' my mother declared. Every day we went to the Mission to hear the Pastor purge us of our demons at night I read the Bible. My mother was Treasurer for the Society for the Lost. No one was very interested in the fairytales. Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who liked to interpolate her story with myth because she did not trust the readers to understand the metafiction.

Oranges are not the only fruit by jeanette winterson