It’s painful, but also feels so familiar.  It is a great reading experience, but I don’t think I have the emotional strength to ever read it again.

Absolutely gorgeous prose, which kept me spellbound to the end. However, the content was decidedly Not For Me, at least not for me in this point and time. I think people who have felt the ache and longing for someone could really sink profoundly into these 200 pages of yearning. I personally didn't find the main character likeable, and the intensely fatphobic descriptions of one of their lovers didn't help matters. It might be that this book will land its emotional arrows in me at another point in time, but that wasn't the experience right now.

Jeanette Winterson’s Written on the Body is an intimate exploration of love, loss, and the physicality that binds them. The novel opens with the striking line, “Why is the measure of love loss?”—a question that resonates throughout the text as the unnamed, ungendered narrator grapples with the consuming affair they have with Louise, a married woman.

Winterson’s prose is a blend of lyrical beauty and confessional reflections, drawing the reader into the narrator’s intense emotional landscape. The natural imagery, with its flora and fauna mirroring the narrator’s internal state, is a testament to Winterson’s ability to evoke vulnerability through nature. “You are a pool of clear water where the light plays,” Louise tells the narrator, encapsulating the tender yet tumultuous relationship that drives the novel.

However, Written on the Body is not just a love story; it’s also a critique of compulsory heterosexuality. The narrator’s observations on marriage—“No one can legislate love; it cannot be given orders or cajoled into service. Love belongs to itself, deaf to pleading and unmoved by violence,”—challenge the societal norms that confine love to rigid structures. This, coupled with the narrator’s yearning for a love that is quietly fulfilling instead of deeply devastating, adds a subtle yet poignant layer of queerness to the text.

Yet, the novel falters with its fatphobic descriptions of a character named Gail. Winterson’s portrayal, comparing Gail to a strip of bacon, feels jarring and outdated, detracting from the overall narrative. This discomfort, coupled with a problematic reference to autism, casts a shadow over an otherwise beautifully written book.

Despite these flaws, Written on the Body remains a powerful meditation on the intersections of love, body, and mortality. Winterson’s prose is undeniably gorgeous, and while the plot may meander, the emotional resonance is undeniable. I would have rated this book 4 stars, but the fatphobia and ableist language lower it to a 3.75. Winterson’s writing is still worth reading, but these aspects cannot be overlooked.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who love lyrical prose, those drawn to introspective explorations of love and loss, anyone interested in narratives that challenge traditional notions of gender and identity.

🔑 Key Themes: Love and Loss, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Body and Mortality, Queerness and Identity.