Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

'Why be happy when you can be normal?' asks Jeanette Winterson's adoptive mother (tellingly always referred to as Mrs Winterson, rather than anything more affectionate) on the day when, aged 16 and still at school, Jeanette is thrown out of the family home. But Mrs Winterson is anything but normal:

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the extreme nature of Mrs Winterson's Pentecostal Christian beliefs (church everyday and all day on Sundays) would prevent this in the small Northern town of Accrington where she was brought up. Religious texts abound: Mrs Winterson puts quotes from scripture into Jeanette's hockey boots, and all over the house. 'Linger not at the Lord's business' and 'He shall melt thy bowels like wax' are the ones chosen for the outside toilet. And Mrs Winterson's feeling of superiority to her neighbours combined with her religious sensibilities resulted in some odd choices:

'Back in the days of Winterson-world we had a set of Victorian watercolours hung on the walls. Mrs W. had inherited them from her mother and she wanted to display them in a family way. But she was dead against 'graven images' (See Exidus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, etc) so she squares this circle by hanging them back to front. All we could see was brown paper, tape, steel tacks, water staining and string. That was a Mrs Winterson version of life.'

But Mrs Winterson is clearly also a deeply disturbed woman who is disappointed both in life and in her adopted daughter. Jeanette's childhood is the sort that today would get social services involved very quickly, in fact it is surprising that it did not so so even in the 1960s and 70s. Being locked out of the house all night, being locked into the coal cellar, and regular beatings formed part of her normal experience, culminating in an exorcism in her teenage years to drive out the demons that were supposedly attracting her to other girls. Books were Jeanette's refuge, but books were also for forbidden, and her growing book collection (hidden under her mattress from prying eyes) goes up in smoke when discovered by her mother.

This is a more factual retelling of the fictionalised events of Winterson's first novel Oranges are Not the Only Fruit. I've read Oranges are not the Only Fruit twice and seen the award winning BBC production maybe twice as well, so I'm very familiar with that the fictional version. How someone who had not read the earlier book would approach this one I'm not sure, as it is frequently referred to and points of difference pointed out. One of these differences is 'Testifying Elsie', an old woman who acts as a bulwark against the wrath of Jeanette's mother in the earlier book. A character who was written in because she couldn't bear to leave her out. But in real life 'There was no Elsie. there was no one like Elsie. Things were much lonelier than that'

This isn't a conventional memoir, vast swathes of Jeanette's adult life are missed out, but as she focuses on her relationship with her adoptive mother, and her attempts to find her real mother it's a format that seems to work. Clearly damaged to by her upbringing, this is an honest attempt by Jeanette Winterson to recognise who and what has made her who she is today, and to come to terms with the good as well as the bad. Recommended, especially for those who have enjoyed Oranges are not the Only Fruit.

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I raced through the book so it must have been gripping but now that I've finished I think I understand Manchester and Accrington better than I do author Winterson's emotional state. Do you really spend tons of time looking for your mother and family only so you may reject them? Maybe reject is too

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strong a word I think Winterson only wants to keep them at a distance which is pretty much her attitude about her friends & lovers. I really did enjoy reading about her miserable childhood, crazed mother and distant father. The situation is one I think most parents and children can identify with. The dominant parent has a really strongly held value that they want to transmit to their child but the child is their own person and not an unmolded hunk of clay. This frustrates the parent to the point of exasperation in Jeanette Winterson's case the mother is both dogmatic and mentally unbalanced. Winterson survives the disaster that is her childhood by forming a hard shell to protect herself and is apparently determined to never let anyone even her lovers get too close.

Winter's gives a wonderful shout-out to the old fashioned public library. The chapter on Literature A- Z is really fun for us librarian's. I'm sorry she hates the new library filled with computers but she no doubt uses one herself. If there were more ardent young intellectuals like Winterson we wouldn't be filling emptying the shelves but atlas for whatever reason literary readers are a dying breed. I'd recommend this book to anyone who likes biography and is able to tolerate a book without a happy ending.

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A fascinating book. I love memoirs, and Jeanette's is no exception. I have smiled, I have laughed, I have cried, and I want to read English literature from A to Z.

This is such a stellar book that a review is difficult. Suffice it to say it is one wherein I want to tell my book loving friends to read it--just go ahead and read it! Those of us who are avid readers know good writing when we read, and feel it!

The author was adopted. Sadly, she was taken into a

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small England town by a flat-out-crazy woman and her never discuss a problem husband.

While Jeanette was physically and emotionally beaten down, her father simply followed what his wife wanted her to do. If she "needed" to be beaten, then he did it.

Throughout the book, the author never calls the woman mother. She is known as "Mrs."
Left alone on the outside stoop for hours and hours, or locked in a bin, she learned to get tough. It is with words that her internal beauty came through.

Always drawn to books, when she worked, she bought them. When the Mrs. found them, they were promptly burnt.

At the age of sixteen, when Jeanette discovered love via another woman's arms, in church her mother announced that an exorcism was needed. No where better was the hypocrisy of her mother's religion shown than when one of the men performing the exorcism was visibly aroused and tried to accost Jeanette.

This incredibly well-written book is about many things. It is about the search for love and the difficulty of trust. It is about the search for identity of a biological mother. It is about reading and the redemption of beautifully crafted words. It is about the meaning of home. And, I urge you to read it--just go ahead and read it.

Five stars.

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Winterson's autobiography details her childhood, growing up with her deeply religious and deeply abusive adoptive parents in northern England. Winterson spends her child wondering about her birth mother, a woman Mrs. Winterson regularly denigrates for her sexual activity. Jeanette's adopted mother

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dishes out all manner of abuse; she locks Jeanette out of the house overnight, and sometimes shuts her in the coal store.

This book offers a history of an undeniably unusual and sad childhood. It is also a story of a successful woman trying to find her place in the world, to learn more about her origins, and about how familial love actually works. Winterson spent much of her childhood trying to hide the meaningful elements of her life from her mother: her girlfriends, her books, her learning.

This is one of the better childhood memoirs I've read, and it certainly is better written than many child abuse memoirs, presumably because the author is an experienced and talented professional. Winterson has already written an autobiographical novel about her experiences, so this is a second visit to a familiar subject. The narrative is much more accessible than I expected a prize-winning author's autobiography to be. It is at the same time engaging and horrifying.

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The autobiographical novel Oranges are not the only fruit impressed me tremendously when it first came out, and I still have a great deal of affection for it. Consequently, it was both exciting and alarming to hear that Winterson had published a new memoir of her childhood years: I was eager to

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learn more about the background to Oranges, but at the same time wasn't sure that I wanted to be exposed to whatever prosaic reality underlay the peculiar vision of East Lancashire that the young Winterson created there.

Of course, Winterson being Winterson, the reality (or at least the account of it we get here) isn't prosaic at all. In the first part of this book, which deals with her childhood, the perspective shifts a bit from what we were shown in Oranges, but the essential story is still quite as odd as it ever was. The "Mrs Winterson" of this book is a less heroic, more isolated figure than "my mother" in the novel: she is much less identified with the church community, and she doesn't love her adopted daughter at all. The mother in the novel clearly did, even though her love is very distracted and usually misguided. The daughter is also a much lonelier figure: Winterson tells us that the character "Elsie" in the novel was an imaginary friend. We are made to see Mrs W's role in the family as actually abusive and destructive, rather than eccentric and accidentally harmful. There is a revolver in the duster drawer, and clearly a real sense that it's going to be used one day. On the positive side, we get to see a lot more of Jeanette's campaign to discover English literature (she takes "English Literature A-Z" on the library shelves as an indication of the approved sequence of things, and works her way systematically from Austen to Nabokov and Mrs Oliphant....).

This memoir, which takes up roughly half the book, serves as introduction to her account of the crisis she went through after the death of her father provoked a period of depression (painfully described here, including a suicide attempt). She emerged from this with the determination to launch the procedure required by English law when an adopted child wants to find out who its biological parents were. The final section of the book is both an account of this bureaucratic and often painful process — obviously intended as a campaigning document to encourage reform — and a meditation on how adoption affected her life, and what discovering her biological mother might mean to her. In the end, this leads her to a kind of posthumous reconciliation with Mrs W.

Obviously, this is a very private and personal topic, one which only a novelist has the privilege of working out in the full glare of public view, and it is often fascinating but sometimes rather infuriating to look over her shoulder while she's doing it. Clearly it's one thing to know intellectually that one should have stopped blaming ones parents for everything well before reaching the age of fifty, but another thing altogether to accept that. All in all a very interesting book for anyone who's read Oranges, and perhaps an illuminating one for people who were adopted in infancy, but I fear that for anyone coming to it with no previous interest in Winterson it would simply read like an unusually literate sob-memoir.

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Good overall. Winterson is a fascinating person, but for some reason there are endless passages about the history of places in which she lived. Some of it - the parts that shaped the personalities of the people who live in that area - is interesting. The rest I skipped. Also, she tends to make

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sweeping generalizationa about what people should believe. Which I don't like.

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OMG, this was such a great book in spelling out how shaping nurture is - and how spirit, determination (and a bright mind) can overcome abusive authority. But I so much wanted more. Jeanette Winterson has been spelling out how happiness results from clarifying (and living) purpose and meaning in

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her interviews, and I really did want more of that. There are many wise observations throughout the book, but she was laid so low, so recently, that I feel the influence of wisdom would be better felt had she continued to melt, continue to feel nourished through receiving love, continued to navigate her relationship with Ann. A bit more time. Notwithstanding, because it's a fascinating story, I couldn't put it down and I wouldn't wish the challenges Jeannette has faced on anybody.
BTW, even though her father is weak, and probably damaged from active service, I think more responsibility should be assigned to him in not doing more to keep her safe from the depressive, destructive force of Mrs W.

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I liked this book especially the first half when she was a child. Impossible to believe that a mother could treat a young child the way she did. But the mother was obsessive and nutty in my opinion. The second half she is an adult looking for her biological parents. She does find her mother but

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that is not finally so satisfying to her as I suspect is the case with many adoptees when they find their parents. The book is very well written and not to be missed if you enjoy memoirs, especially those of writers.

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This book is a deeply-wrought, personal look into Jeanette Winterson's life, upbringing and present. She details her relationship with her adopted mother, the formidable Mrs. Winterson, her upbringing as a working-class girl in the 70s, being an adopted child and her eventual escape and release

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through literature and poetry. It is just as elegantly and passionately wrought as any of Winterson's fictions, but with the heartbreaking thread of truth running through it. It is terrible and magnificent, and a highly-recommended read.

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This is a book about the damage that parents (both real and adoptive) can inflict on children, and how that damage is carried through in adult life. It is full of insight, sadness, wit and surprises. It is also profoundly moving, particularly towards the end. Winterson manages again the difficult

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trick of making her very specific situation reach out to the universal. There are many clever ways in which form matches content here and the structure is well thought out. It is a book to be read aloud and with care.

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At the moment I seem to be drawn to reading either 'dysfunctional childhood memoirs' or 'horrific WWII experiences' books - this book is clearly in the former group. Extremely well-written and insightful I really felt the author's pain and confusion as she tried to make sense of her life. I felt so

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sad for her that she chose not to integrate more with her birth family when she found them and also sad that her childhood experiences had very negatively affected her ability to build and nurture relationships as an adult. But I did love to read about how important the local public library was to her and how she worked her way through "English literature A-Z" in alphabetic order!

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Jeanette Winterson wrote a critically acclaimed novel, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, loosely based on her life growing up in a Northern England industrial town. Her memoir, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?, is the non-fiction version of that story.

The looming figure in both books is

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Winterson's adopted mother, who is always referred to in the book as Mrs. Winterson. Her parents were Pentecostal and her mother raised Jeanette to become a missionary. Mrs. Winterson was abusive, frequently locking Jeanette out of the house overnight, leaving her to freeze on the porch steps.

During those long nights, it was books that saved young Jeanette. That was where she fell in love with language and books, and where she found truth, beauty and security in her lonely existence. Books saved her sanity and her life.

Mrs. Winterson spent much of her time at church meetings, and was always angry and disappointed in Jeanette. At the age of sixteen, Jeanette told her mother that she was in love with a woman and Mrs. Winterson uttered the phrase that became the book's title, "Why be happy when you can be normal?".

The fact that she was adopted affected her as well. Her mother wanted a boy and she finds some papers in her mother's things that confuse her. As expected, the confrontation with Mrs. Winterson about this does not go well.

Jeanette decided to try and find her birth mother and that journey is interesting. She searches long and hard and eventually finds her mother, although her own reaction to meeting her mother is much more complicated than she imagines.

Winterson's memoir, with its poetic language, gives hope to people who feel that they are different from everyone else around them, that life is too difficult. It can help them to find their own voice as she found hers. One of the passages I marked is this one:
"A tough life needs a tough language- and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers- a language powerful enough to say how it is. It isn't a hiding place. It is a finding place."
Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal? is a beautiful finding place for those who feel lost too.

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I really loved Jeanette Winterson's semi-autobiographical novel "Oranges aren't the Only Fruit" so reading her memoir "Why be Happy When You Could Be Normal" seemed like a natural progression. It is difficult to read about Winterson's struggles, but the memoir is well written and interesting.

If

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you've read "Oranges," you know Winterson's story. She was adopted at six weeks old by a couple who were Pentacostal evangelists. Her mother, referred to in this book as "Mrs. Winterson" was domineering, fanatical, emotionally abusive and completely unable to accept the fact her daughter was gay. (The title of the book is something that Mrs. Winterson actually said to her daughter.) As a result of her upbringing, Jeanette Winterson has an inability to connect with people and accept love -- or at least that's something she struggles with even in the end of the memoir.

Glad I decided to pick this one up.

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This book is a new addition to my most favorite books ever! I must have used about a half a tin of those little copper page markers, there were just so many poignant events and wonderful insights throughout this book. This is the story of Jeanette, whose adoptive mother was difficult and unloving,

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to say the least. Abusive comes to mind. And yet, Jeanette rises above it, buffered by a few key individuals and by her boundless love of books. Lest this scare any readers away, I did not find this to be a sad book. There are sad moments, but it is also, reflective, very funny, and so wise. The stories are unforgettable and I cannot wait to read more by this amazing author.

First, a taste of her sad childhood: "When she knew I was keeping a diary she said, 'I never kept secrets from my mother...but I am not your mother, am I?' And after that she never was. When I wanted to learn to play her piano she said, ' When you come back from school I will have sold it.' She had."

On a lighter note, here is one of Winterson's literary insights from Jack and the Beanstalk. "The bridge (the Beanstalk) between the two worlds is unpredictable and very surprising. And later, when the giant tries to climb after Jack, the beanstalk has to be chopped down pronto. This suggests to me that the pursuit of happiness, which we may as well call life, is full of surprising temporary elements -- we get somewhere we couldn't go otherwise and we profit from the trip, but we can't stay there, it isn't our world, and we shouldn't let that world come crashing down into the one we inhabit. The beanstalk has to be chopped down. But the large-scale riches from the 'other world' can be brought into ours, just as Jack makes off with the singing harp and the golden hen. Whatever we 'win' will accommodate itself to our size and form..."

And as to how Winterson writes, in a nonlinear form (which I loved!): Her mother discovered Jeanette's hidden trove of books and immediately suspected the worst: Satanism and pornography. She took all her books and threw them out the window into the backyard. Then she set them on fire while Jeanette watched.

"I watched them blaze and blaze and remember thinking how warm it was, how light, on the freezing Saturnian January night. And books have always been light and warmth to me.

"I had bound them all in plastic because they were precious. Now they were gone.

"In the morning there were stray bits of text all over the yard and in the alley. Burnt jigsaws of books. I collected some of the scraps.

"It is probably why I write as I do -- collecting the scraps, uncertain of continuous narrative. What does Eliot say? 'These fragments have I shored against my ruin...'"

From these ashes, a wonderful story and a great writer, one who appreciates how her bitter youth made her the woman she is today. Highly recommended. 5 stars.

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A very readable book, but not an easy read.
Looking back, it is almost 20 years since I read Oranges are Not the Only Fruit, so my memory of that fictionalised version of Jeanette Winterson's life story is only vague. This retelling as autobiography is very interesting, as it is such a story of

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success against the odds, and yet that is not the story being told, but the story of discovery of who Jeanette Winterson feels she is as a person and her search for love.
I had already read several segments of this in The Times, and they work better for being part of this whole work. There are also digressions and short rants about specific issues, but they feel part of the whole.
There are some lovely amusing moments in this story and some very uncomfortable moments, but it is all beautifully told.
It also feels very brave and honest.
What more could you want in an autobiography than something that is brave and honest, beautifully told.

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A great memoir (of sorts) dealing with the idea of feeling displaced, the healing power of creativity, and figuring out the beneficial aspects of love, as well as learning to love in a new way.

A very entertaining memoir about he writer's horrific childhood with an adopted mother who was obviously "raving mad". Her triumph over this childhood, overcoming depression, breakdown and mental illness to become a successful writer and delightful person,judging by TV interviews, is to be admired.

I’m as glad I listened to this on audio, read by the author, as I was with Patti Smith’s Just Kids. In fact, the feeling of comfort that persists after finishing the books is similar -- tenderly yet matter-of-factly told stories of women’s younger selves going out and getting what they

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need.

The first part of Winterson’s memoir is about her very young self growing up in the “wrong crib” -- an adoptive crib, with a mentally ill Pentecostal mother and deferring father. Winterson finds sanity in the public library’s shelves of “English literature from A to Z” (which this American loved hearing read as zed not zee); awakens to her (homo)sexuality; flees her parents’ home at sixteen; attends Oxford and writes prize-winning novels. But the reach of the “wrong crib” is long, and the second part of the book is Winterson’s recent midlife search for her birth mother.

If I’d read this rather than listened on audio, I’d have marked quite a few sentences for language or insight. There’s terrific evocation of small-town, 1960s working-class England and passages that made me think of Sybil. Now I’m eager to read what Winterson calls the “cover version” of her life story -- her 1985 debut novel, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit.

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I am completely and totally overwhelmed! I have found a soulmate. Some of the things she´s written could have come from me (if I had had her skill...) Oh, how she writes about love, and loss, and loneliness. I cry even as I write this now. It´s amazing that she dared to write this book - she is

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so naked and vulnerable, but that is of course part of what makes it good literature. And the way she writes of what reading meant and means to her! And how she describes the feeling of security when being surrounded by books ( I know, know!)

This book was written for me! Thank you!

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Brilliant. Weird, but brilliant. it made me feel thankful for what I have and shows how kind other people can be

A disappointing autobiography covering Winterson's childhood (Oranges period) and most recent years around the time of her breakdown and omitting most of her adult life. It includes an interesting account of working class life in 1950s Accrington and the shocking practices of the Elim Pentecostal

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church and her adoptive mother, Mrs Winterson.

Readability is compromised by Winterson's constant philosophising - which is rather crammed in at every opportunity. In some parts of the book you can't read a single page without pausing to decipher a Winterson pronouncement on life, the universe and everything. Less of this would have been more - as it would have given the reader space to consider the points made.

Winterson shows a lack of empathy or tolerance to any needs other than her own (e.g. attack on public libraries efforts to become more accessible by stocking mass fiction/DVDs etc as well as great literature).

I am a great fan of Winterson's writing but this is far from her best work.

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Astonishing, distubing and even humorous account of her early life with the bizarre Mrs Winterstone.

Read this for book club. So many things to think about, but such a sad life as a child.