Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

by Jeanette Winterson

In the library I felt better, words you could trust and look at till you understood them, they couldn’t change half way through a sentence like people, so it was easier to spot a lie.

I get her.

that is the way with stories; we make them what we will. It’s a way of explaining the universe while leaving the universe unexplained,

‘I love her.’ ‘Then you do not love the Lord.’ ‘Yes, I love both of them.’ ‘You cannot.’ ‘I do, I do,

Love was the law, religion was taught.

Oh—

There are different sorts of treachery, but betrayal is betrayal wherever you find it. She burnt a lot more than the letters that night in the backyard. I don’t think she knew.

Walls protect and walls limit. It is in the nature of walls that they should fall. That walls should fall is the consequence of blowing your own trumpet.

To eat of the fruit means to leave the garden because the fruit speaks of other things, other longings. So at dusk you say goodbye to the place you love, not knowing if you can ever return, knowing you can never return by the same way as this. It may be, some other day, that you will open a gate by chance, and find yourself again on the other side of the wall.

Whoa.

Just as they were driving off on his horrible Iron Curtain motor bike, he patted my arm, told me he knew, and forgave us both.

A m*n always at the scene of the crime, can’t say I’m surprised but I am p!ssed at his audacity.

There was only one thing I could do; mustering all my spit, I did it.

SO DESERVED!! GO ON GIRL.

seven ripe oranges had just dropped on to the window sill. ‘Have an orange,’ I offered, by way of conversation.

I’ve just realised oranges symbolise comfort and it was the fruit her mother always gave her when she was she was younger.. she’s hallucinating oranges as an attempt to self soothe and her offering the imaginary oranges to her mother and pastor is an attempt to soothe them… oh I could vomit from heartbreak right now.

It was the first time Elsie had been at church since her long spell in hospital. She knew what was happening, but still held me close and told me not to be silly. ‘Come for a cup after this,’ she decided, ‘but don’t tell t’others.’

Oh Elsie we luv yewww

I knew now where the blame lay. If there’s such a thing as spiritual adultery, my mother was a whore. So there I was, my success in the pulpit being the reason for my downfall. The devil had attacked me at my weakest point: my inability to realize the limitations of my sex.

A voice from the back. ‘That’s a load of old twaddle and you know it. Now are we helping this child or not?’ It was Elsie.

Elsie, you will ALWAYS be famous.

‘I’m not going.’ He told me I’d need a rest after the struggle. That my mother needed a rest. ‘She can go. I’m leaving the church, so you can forget the rest.’

She is finally realising she doesn’t have to subject herself to this torment al in the name of the church. I could cry tears of joy and sadness for her because I know it’s bittersweet.

‘You’ll have to leave,’ she said. ‘I’m not havin’ demons here.’

There’s no type of love like a hell-fire believing Christian’s hate.

‘The Devil looks after his own,’ she threw back, pushing me out.

How heartbreaking it must be to realise that your mum can never love you for who you truly are. Instead of choosing to understand and grow she calls what she does not understand demonic.

It is not possible to control the outside of yourself until you have mastered your breathing space. It is not possible to change anything until you understand the substance you wish to change.

Real!

The pastor came up to me. ‘Go home please Jeanette.’ His voice was very quiet. ‘And where do you suppose that is?’ I shot back at him. He never flinched,

Acting as if he’s not the reason she’s lost both her spiritual and physical home, eff off man

I miss God. I miss the company of someone utterly loyal. I still don’t think of God as my betrayer. The servants of God, yes, but servants by their very nature betray. I miss God who was my friend.

I get it :(

‘After all,’ said my mother philosophically, ‘oranges are not the only fruit.’

Book title mentioned !!!

I thought about the dog and was suddenly very sad; sad for her death, for my death, for all the inevitable dying that comes with change. There’s no choice that doesn’t mean a loss.

The part of adulthood where you are mourning small bits of prior versions of you/childhood/where you grew up<<