The Passion (2004)

By Jeanette Winterson
After reading a few of Winterson’s books now (Sexing the Cherry, Oranges are not the only fruit, Art Objects, the Lighthousekeeper and this one) I profess to being a fan, particularly after her visit to the Adelaide Festival’s Writers’ Week. She said that week that she wasn’t into the whole self-help thing, but by golly if she wanted to start a cult she could do it by snapping her fingers, we were hanging on her every word.

OK so I had a revelation while reading this book; I think I’ve figured out that love is the great theme of all Winterson’s books. (Took me a while, didn’t it?). Love is what it’s all about for Winterson; I suspect of her of being a hopeless romantic at heart. Life seems more of an intellectual experience for writers like Vonnegut and Burroughs, which is not to imply that love and other human emotions play no part in their writing (nor that Winterson’s writing is not intellectual); they’re just more cynical about the whole thing.

I really enjoyed The Passion, a novel set during the time of Napoleon’s empire. The first section especially was compelling, about French peasant Henri who becomes a cook for Napoleon, and who essentially hero-worships the emperor. Partly it is the historical element that makes it fascinating, but Winterson is such a beautiful writer than any enjoyment of her books has to come from the language as well.

The other main character of the story is Villanelle, daughter of a Venetian boatman, an employee of the casino. She falls passionately in love with another woman, who is married. Henri and Villanelle meet when both are sent on Napoleon’s march through Russia, in the section called “The Zero Winter”. Both of their hearts are damaged; Henri’s as he realises Napoleon is not worth his idolatry; Villanelle’s because she literally doesn’t have one - her lover has stolen it. (An odd bit of magical realism thrown in which didn’t quite work for me). As she says, though, it is a blessing – the zero winter is no place for a heart.

You know, sometimes I wonder if war and pain and suffering are worthwhile after all because of the stories and art and film that it has caused people to create. It can’t possibly be – rather this probably indicates something a little unpleasant about humans; to quote Vonnegut in Bluebeard: “what Pollock did lacked that greatest of all crowd pleasers, which was human sacrifice”.

Rating: 9 out of 10