Why is that the case?
The very first line of Written On the Body by Jeanette Winterson is a question, reaching out to the reader asking, “Why is the measure of love loss?”. The speaker then spans into poetic prose, describing the dismal and unbecoming summer they have experienced. Upon first read, I was admittedly both intrigued and confused by this decision, but having finished the book, I can confidently say that Louis is dead, and that’s okay. And the reason why it’s alright, is because the trauma of her death is not restricted to just the speaker, but to us readers as well.
Based on textual evidence, I propose that the speaker, importantly ungendered and unnamed, uses their recountment of past relationships in order to process and grief Louis’s death. The two places I will be pointing to most in the book itself are the first and last paragraphs, should you wish to refer to them yourself as well. I urge you to join me in analyzing these paragraphs, since they are some of the most complex and dense in the novel.
The ungendered nature of the main character in the novel, allows for the reader to envision themselves in the respective situations as the speaker. Essentially, this prevents any biased conclusions about the speakers experiences and views. Should the speaker claim to be a woman, men reading the book would feel excluded in some situations, and those who identify entirely differently would feel excluded from the start. Given this, the reader feels part of the speaker, because they can put themselves into their figurative shoes Throughout the novel, there are events that made me laugh (the closet incident) and that pulled at my heart strings all the same, and that effect would not be as dramatic if I identified the speaker with a gender.
Tying this in with the first and last paragraphs of the novel, I draw an importance in the speakers ambiguous identity and the relationship with the reader. Just as the novel begins with an implied You, it ends the same with an assumed unity by saying “I don’t know if this is a happy ending but here we are let loose in open fields”. The truth is, there is no ending to this story. Our speaker must continue through life after this novel is written, and so will we after reading it. However, grieving is a process that is tiresome. By losing a loved one, the speaker spirals in hopes to find answers, bringing us back to the first paragraph when they ask “You said, ‘I love you.’ Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear?” This novel can be read cyclically, the way grief is cyclical in nature, starting and ending looking for answers.
The question being, why is love measured by loss?
Your favorite crime,
Jay Walker
The question of why love is measured by loss is one posed by the somewhat unreliable narrator. If the novel is indeed an exploration of grief after Louise’s death, then of course the narrator would measure their love for her by their loss of her. But people do not always measure love by loss. I think it’s also an interesting point to say that the narrator is genderless so that people can insert themselves into the story. That is true to some extent, but the fact that the narrator is not reliable begs the question of whether or not we should put too much stock in by what they say.
Dear Jay Walker,
I love your point on the chronography and your suggestion that the story itself doesn’t operate in linear time! Along with the disjointed stories of The Narrator, The Narrator explicitly questions the nature of time. “Yes you do…same four walls.” (Winterson 18)
I’ll answer your ultimate question. “Why is love measured by loss?”
It isn’t.
I’d like to connect you to a line from outside the first and last paragraphs of the story, “See? Even here in this private place my syntax has fallen prey to the deceit.” (Winterson 15). To expand on the point that lucifer made, we’re not supposed to believe the narrator. Is the measure of how high you are how far you have fallen? Of course not.
Yours in Sickness and Health,
Carmine “Red” Zingiber
Love is measured by loss because without loss, we do not know how much we love. We cannot love without knowing we will lose it. The narrator learns everything about Louise because at some point, they will lose her. People show love and affection and care for people because they will regret it when they are gone. You love things that will not last forever. Love is not eternal and only lasts a life time.
I enjoyed reading this blog post. You pose interesting points about this novel and its narrative being cyclical. Something that we a class should then ponder is the “so what” question. What can we say about the nature of the novel, or perhaps more interestingly, the narrator? I would argue that we should now further question their reliability, as now the novel reads as the inner machinations of someone so stricken with grief they are hallucinating at the end of the novel. Thus, this reading further discredits an already untrustworthy storyteller.
Hi, Jay Walker! Firstly, I love your signature!
Secondly, on a more serious note, I appreciate how in-depth you went on your analysis of the speaker being ungendered and unnamed. I think it is important to reflect on why the author chose to write the narrator this way and the impact that has while reading it. I agree that it makes the experience more universal to anyone reading it by allowing the reader to step into the speaker’s shoes regardless of gender. I also appreciated your takes on grief and how at the end of the novel, the speaker circles back to the beginning, still searching for answers after a loved one’s death, after yet another failed relationship.