Read Online Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeanette Winterson
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another’s talent, but not to three eggs covered in cotton wool, entitled ‘Easter Bunnies’.
‘It’s not fair,’ I told Elsie, later that same evening at the Sisterhood meeting.
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘And anyway,’ butted in Mrs White, who had heard the story, ‘they’re not holy.’
I didn’t despair; I did
Streetcar Named Desire
out of pipe-cleaners, an embroidered cushion cover of Bette Davis in
Now Voyager
, an oregami William Tell with real apple, and best of all, a potato sculpture of Henry Ford outside the Chrysler building in New York. An impressive list by anystandards, but I was as hopeful and as foolish as King Canute forcing back the waves. Whatever I did made no impression at all, except to enrage my mother because I had abandoned biblical themes. She quite liked
Now Voyager
, because she had done her courting during that film, but she thought I should have made the Tower of Babel out of oregami, even though I told her it would be too difficult.
‘The Lord walked on the water,’ was all she said when I tried to explain. But she had her own problems. A lot of the missionaries had been eaten, which meant she had to explain to their families.
‘It’s not easy,’ she said, ‘even though it’s for the Lord.’
When the children of Israel left Egypt, they were guided by the pillar of cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night. For them, this did not seem to be a problem. For me, it was an enormous problem. The pillar of cloud was a fog, perplexing and impossible. I didn’t understand the ground rules. The daily world was a world of Strange Notions, without form, and therefore void. I comforted myself as best I could by always rearranging their version of the facts.
One day, I learned that Tetrahedron is a mathematical shape that can be formed by stretching an elastic band over a series of nails.
But Tetrahedron is an emperor. . . .
The emperor Tetrahedron lived in a palace made absolutely from elastic bands. To the right, cunning fountains shot elastic jets, subtle as silk; to the left, ten minstrels played day and night on elastic lutes.
The emperor was beloved by all.
At night, when the thin dogs slept, and the music lulled all but the most watchful to sleep, the mighty palace lay closed and barred against the foul Isosceles, sworn enemy to the graceful Tetrahedron.
But in the day, the guards pulled back the great doors, flooding the plain with light, so that gifts could be brought to the emperor.
Many brought gifts; stretches of material so fine that achange of the temperature would dissolve it; stretches of material so strong that whole cities could be built from it.
And stories of love and folly.
One day, a lovely woman brought the emperor a revolving circus operated by midgets.
The midgets acted all of the tragedies and many of the comedies. They acted them all at once, and it was fortunate that Tetrahedron had so many faces, otherwise he might have died of fatigue.
They acted them all at once, and the emperor, walking round his theatre, could see them all at once, if he wished.
Round and round he walked, and so learned a very valuable thing:
that no emotion is the final one.
L EVITICUS
T HE H EATHEN WERE a daily household preoccupation. My mother found them everywhere, particularly Next Door. They tormented her as only the godless can, but she had her methods.
They hated hymns, and she liked to play the piano, an old upright with pitted candelabra and yellow keys. We each had a copy of the
Redemption Hymnal
(boards and cloth 3 shillings). My mother sang the tune, and I put in the harmonies. The first hymn I ever learned was a magnificent Victorian composition called
Ask the Saviour to Help You
.
One Sunday morning, just as we got in from Communion, we heard strange noises, like cries for help, coming from Next Door. I took no notice, but my mother froze behind the radiogram, and started to change colour. Mrs White, who had come home with us to listen to
‘It’s not fair,’ I told Elsie, later that same evening at the Sisterhood meeting.
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘And anyway,’ butted in Mrs White, who had heard the story, ‘they’re not holy.’
I didn’t despair; I did
Streetcar Named Desire
out of pipe-cleaners, an embroidered cushion cover of Bette Davis in
Now Voyager
, an oregami William Tell with real apple, and best of all, a potato sculpture of Henry Ford outside the Chrysler building in New York. An impressive list by anystandards, but I was as hopeful and as foolish as King Canute forcing back the waves. Whatever I did made no impression at all, except to enrage my mother because I had abandoned biblical themes. She quite liked
Now Voyager
, because she had done her courting during that film, but she thought I should have made the Tower of Babel out of oregami, even though I told her it would be too difficult.
‘The Lord walked on the water,’ was all she said when I tried to explain. But she had her own problems. A lot of the missionaries had been eaten, which meant she had to explain to their families.
‘It’s not easy,’ she said, ‘even though it’s for the Lord.’
When the children of Israel left Egypt, they were guided by the pillar of cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night. For them, this did not seem to be a problem. For me, it was an enormous problem. The pillar of cloud was a fog, perplexing and impossible. I didn’t understand the ground rules. The daily world was a world of Strange Notions, without form, and therefore void. I comforted myself as best I could by always rearranging their version of the facts.
One day, I learned that Tetrahedron is a mathematical shape that can be formed by stretching an elastic band over a series of nails.
But Tetrahedron is an emperor. . . .
The emperor Tetrahedron lived in a palace made absolutely from elastic bands. To the right, cunning fountains shot elastic jets, subtle as silk; to the left, ten minstrels played day and night on elastic lutes.
The emperor was beloved by all.
At night, when the thin dogs slept, and the music lulled all but the most watchful to sleep, the mighty palace lay closed and barred against the foul Isosceles, sworn enemy to the graceful Tetrahedron.
But in the day, the guards pulled back the great doors, flooding the plain with light, so that gifts could be brought to the emperor.
Many brought gifts; stretches of material so fine that achange of the temperature would dissolve it; stretches of material so strong that whole cities could be built from it.
And stories of love and folly.
One day, a lovely woman brought the emperor a revolving circus operated by midgets.
The midgets acted all of the tragedies and many of the comedies. They acted them all at once, and it was fortunate that Tetrahedron had so many faces, otherwise he might have died of fatigue.
They acted them all at once, and the emperor, walking round his theatre, could see them all at once, if he wished.
Round and round he walked, and so learned a very valuable thing:
that no emotion is the final one.
L EVITICUS
T HE H EATHEN WERE a daily household preoccupation. My mother found them everywhere, particularly Next Door. They tormented her as only the godless can, but she had her methods.
They hated hymns, and she liked to play the piano, an old upright with pitted candelabra and yellow keys. We each had a copy of the
Redemption Hymnal
(boards and cloth 3 shillings). My mother sang the tune, and I put in the harmonies. The first hymn I ever learned was a magnificent Victorian composition called
Ask the Saviour to Help You
.
One Sunday morning, just as we got in from Communion, we heard strange noises, like cries for help, coming from Next Door. I took no notice, but my mother froze behind the radiogram, and started to change colour. Mrs White, who had come home with us to listen to
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