Sexing the Cherry - Jeanette Winterson - (EPUB全文下载)

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ALSO BY JEANETTE WINTERSONOranges Are Not the Only FruitThe Passion Written on the Body Art and Lies Art Objects Gut Symmetries
Copyright © 1989 by Jeanette WintersonAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, or the facilitation thereof, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Any members of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or publishers who would like to obtain permission to include the work in an anthology, should send their inquiries to Grove/Atlantic, Inc.,841 Broadway, New York, NY 10003.First published in Great Britain in 1989 by Bloomsbury Publishing Ltd.Printed in the United States of AmericaLibrary of Congress Catalog Card Number 90-30682 ISBN 978-0-8021-9870-9 (ebook)Grove Press an imprint of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.841 Broadway New York, NY 10003Distributed by Publishers Group Westwww.groveatlantic.com
CONTENTSTHE STORY OF THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES16491990
FOR MELANIE ADAMSMy thanks are due to Don and Ruth Rendell, whose hospitality gave
me the space to work. To all at Bloomsbury, especially Liz Calder
and Caroline Michel. And to Pat Kavanagh for her continual support.
The Hopi, an Indian tribe, have a language as sophisticated as ours, but no tenses for past, present and future. The division does not exist. What does this say about time?Matter, that thing the most solid and the well-known, which you are holding in your hands and which makes up your body, is now known to be mostly empty space. Empty space and points of light. What does this say about the reality of die world?
My name is Jordan. This is the first thing I saw. It was night, about a quarter to twelve, the sky divided in halves, one cloudy, the other fair. The clouds hung over the wood, there was no distance between them and the tops of the trees. Where the sky was clear, over the river and the flat fields newly ploughed, the moon, almost full, shone out of a yellow aureole and reflected in the bow of the water. There were cattle in the field across, black against the slope of the hill, not moving, sleeping. One light, glittering from the only house, looked like the moat-light of a giant's castle. Tall trees flanked it. A horse ran loose in the courtyard, its hooves sparking the stone.Then the fog came. The fog came from the river in ............

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