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This review is from: Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit (Paperback)'One of my earliest memories is me sitting on a sheep at Easter while she told me the story of the Sacrificial Lamb. We had it on Sundays with potato'.
This is just one of the many brilliantly quirky remarks of Jeanette that sparkle throughout Oranges. What so stands her apart from other modern writers in this novel is her signature frank style of writing - a refreshingly clean and matter-of-fact narrative, yet so flawlessly precise and so perfectly encapsulating of the emotions behind different experiences in life. Jeanette's idiosyncratic writing is one where every sentence shines with unadulterated beauty and raw poetic force. Her rare sensitivity and affinity with words and language itself is more than amazing - it is magical.
Oranges is more than Jeanette's autobiography weaven amidst fairytale myths and parables. It is more than a story about the struggle between religion and sexuality. It is the the story of all of us, it is our story. The betrayal of parental figures, the driving force of budding sexuality, the mixture of indifference and indignance towards an ex-lover, the innate loyalty to family deep within, all these are passages of life we all walk through, yet how often is it so penetratingly and unforgettably recorded in a chronicle that will be read again and again for many generations to come. Jeanette is the voice of a generation crying out for independence and the need to be true to our hearts; she is the hidden voice of all of us.
That perhaps is what really makes Oranges so special and personal, that behind Jeanette's dazzling prose we hear our story, our voice.