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Travelogues
The self is not contained in any moment or any place, but it is only in the intersection of moment and place that the self might, for a moment, be seen vanishing through a door which disappears at once.
I am rereading Winterson's Sexing the Cherry . I have read this book more times than I can count and I always take away something new. It is one of those few books that changed my life. I read it before reading Virginia Woolf.
It is an easy read, only a little over a hundred pages, but very weighty. I love it because it challenges your preconceptions on almost everything. But mostly, I love it because it is a travelogue. Apart from it being a travelogue that has the characters going places and describing where they've been, it is also a travelogue where the characters travel inward, into themselves.
I love how the writer treats love, and the search for it: Was I searching for a dancer whose name I did not know, or was I searching for the dancing part of myself?
I am not going to write a review because it would stretch out into 15 pages, more now, probably because I have lived life more than the last time I wrote one. I just cannot recommend it enough. And as in a lot of things, people either love it or hate it.