The Christmas Conundrum: Rewriting the Family in “Written on the Body”

     For a brief period in the text, Louise and the narrator of Written on the Body share a quaint and domestic life together. With Elgin out of the picture, the two lovers can fully enjoy each other’s company and embrace the positive aspects of stable, affectionate monogamy. Notably, this domestic reprieve occurs during the Christmas season. Louise and the narrator, along with the rest of the world, get caught up in the holiday spirit. They cannot help but decorate their “flat with garlands of holly and ivy woven from the woods” (Winterson 99). Though they have “very little money,” they still find peace and cheer in “the season of goodwill” (99-100). Sadly for the two lovers, though, this fragile joy comes crashing down around them. By setting all scenes of domesticity at Christmastime, Winterson emphasizes the ubiquity of hegemonic ideals of domestic happiness.

     As Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick points out in Tendencies, Christmas marks a “time when all the institutions are speaking with one voice” (5). As all institutions repeatedly promote the monolith of Christmas, an increasing connection emerges between Christmastime and “the image of ‘the’ family” (6). Of course, Louise and the narrator do not conform to any traditional concept of what “the family” looks or acts like; their relationship begins with an affair, they do not share children, and they may both be women. Still, they enjoy the holiday season just like any other family. “We sang and played and walked for miles looking at buildings and watching people,” says the narrator (99). The couple’s singing calls to mind Christmas carols, while their playing evokes a childlike joy. Perhaps they also admire Christmas lights while taking their milelong walks. They even learn the quintessential lesson of Christmas: the importance of family. “A treasure had fallen into our hands,” says the narrator, “and the treasure was each other” (99). The statement is overly schlocky, romantic, and sentimental, especially for such a cynical narrator. In other words, the statement embodies all the cardinal aspects of Christmastime.

     Despite their poverty and unconventionality, Louise and the narrator remain “insultingly happy” (99). Their happiness does not just insult Elgin or Jacqueline. Rather, it insults the established order. The couple demonstrates that one does not have to adhere to conventional expectations in order to find fulfillment. However, their rebellion comes at a cost. Elgin arrives on “Christmas Eve” to inform the narrator that Louise has leukemia (100). He undercuts the couple’s happiness the night before the glorious day, the symbolic culmination of their joy. In a season characterized by brilliant lights and twinkling stars, Elgin casts “a shadow” over their contrived domesticity (100). His cruelty reveals that even the most “jovial” of seasons can have a “menacing” underbelly if you do not conform to societal expectations (100). The two lovers will never fit in, no matter how many garlands they string. Winterson illustrates that individual acts of resistance against hegemony only ever end in tragedy or martyrdom. To effect real change, the entire system must be discarded like the carcass of a Christmas turkey.

Love, Loss, and Avoidance in Written on the Body

Jeanette Winterson’s Written on the Body explores themes of love, loss, and the complexities of emotional commitment through its unnamed narrator, who navigates a series of passionate yet fleeting relationships. One of the most revealing lines in the novel, “I’ve been through a lot of marriages. Not down the aisle but always up the stairs.”, encapsulates the narrator’s struggle with intimacy and their pattern of engaging in love affairs that mimic commitment but ultimately lack permanence. The contrast between “down the aisle” and “up the stairs” is particularly striking, as it highlights the narrator’s tendency to experience the intensity of love without ever fully surrendering to the vulnerability and stability that marriage requires. This idea is reflected throughout the first half of the novel, where the narrator repeatedly finds themselves entangled in passionate relationships that are defined more by secrecy and physical desire than by long-term devotion.

The phrase “I’ve been through a lot of marriages” is deeply ironic. It suggests an intimate familiarity with relationships that resemble marriage, yet the narrator immediately undercuts this idea by clarifying that these experiences were never formalized or lasting. Their relationships may feel as intense as marriage in the moment, but they never lead to the kind of emotional security that marriage symbolizes. Instead, “always up the stairs” implies encounters that take place in secret—often in the context of affairs with married individuals—where physical intimacy is prioritized over emotional connection. The use of “always” reinforces a pattern rather than an isolated event, suggesting that the narrator is trapped in a cycle of passion and loss, never allowing themselves to fully commit.

This pattern is evident in the narrator’s reflections on past relationships. While they experience deep desire, they remain emotionally detached, moving from one lover to another without establishing the stability that marriage requires. Their affairs often involve married individuals, further reinforcing their avoidance of true vulnerability. By engaging in relationships that are inherently temporary, the narrator ensures that they can never be fully tied to another person. This reluctance to commit is not just about circumstance but about an internal fear of love’s permanence, which they associate more with loss than fulfillment.

Ultimately, this passage serves as a metaphor for the narrator’s entire romantic history in the first half of the novel. They desire connection but resist its long-term implications, preferring the intensity of passion over the security of commitment. Their love affairs take them close to the idea of marriage but never fully into it, reflecting their fundamental struggle with forming lasting emotional bonds.

Good Dog/Feral Dog (Written on the Body)

“I phoned a friend whose advice was to play the sailor and run a wife in every port. If I told Jacqueline I’d ruin everything and for what? If I told Jacqueline I’d hurt her beyond healing and did I have that right? Probably I had nothing more than dog-fever for two weeks and I could get it out of my system and come home to my kennel. 

Good sense. Common sense. Good dog.”  

Written on the Body, pg. 40 

On the surface, this passage is a segment of the narrator’s deliberation. They consider the cons of telling Jacqueline the truth about their affair. On a deeper level, this passage reveals how the narrator views themself; it also carries notes of societal normativity.  

The syntax of this passage holds contrast: it begins with long, unbroken sentences, questioning in tone. This is the narrator’s pure stream of consciousness. It then transitions into clipped part-sentences which shut down the narrator’s earlier ruminations. After all, there is no need to worry about the ethical implications of being honest with Jacqueline if they ‘get it out of their system’ and move on (40).  

The narrator says that they have “dog-fever” and need to return home to a “kennel,” which conjures imagery of a crate or cage that might be too small for the dog (40). Something constraining. This is not the last time the narrator refers to themself in dog-like terms. On page 56, the narrator explicitly thinks, “I want to snarl like the dog I am,” and on page 91 they are “dog-dumb.” Interesting, then, that the narrator draws comparisons between themself and a cat later in the book, stating that they take it in “the way Louise had taken me” and then referring to themself and the cat in tandem (109). Whether cat or dog, the narrator thinks of themself in terms of a household pet. Feral and dangerous, protective, mistreated, loyal—all at once.  

This metaphor is a building block of a broader theme: rejecting normativity and hegemony. The narrator lives in a society which values faithful, heterosexual marriage, and the narrator adopts this obsession, questioning how one can be happy in such a system. The movement from “good sense” to “common sense” to “good dog” shows that the three are interconnected. Common sense, which is made up of common norms and beliefs, equates to good beliefs. Morality is tangibly attached to these practices. If the narrator adopts these beliefs and stops their affair, they will be a good dog, trained by society to be a docile household pet.  

Thus, the narrator’s struggle with norms and their internal debate is influenced by how they perceive themself. The choices are 1) ‘playing the sailor,’ being honest with Jacqueline, and ‘ruining everything,’ versus 2) moving through the affair and then conforming. Readers know that the narrator is honest and chooses not to play it safe. This is a decision followed by violence from both the narrator and Jacqueline, which is quite telling. Although the narrator is a contradictory character, they repeatedly grapple with their own dark side (akin to an angry dog) and whether they are worth saving (akin to a stray cat).