Lighthousekeeping

Jeanette Winterson is unquestionably the key cultivator of impassioned, lyrical literature. In Lighthousekeeping, she strengthens her grasp on the intangible, making time and space nothing in comparison to the beauty and verity within human bonds.

In the in the misty obscurity between past and present, Winterson introduces us to Silver, a young girl who loses her mother and is thrust into the auspices of lighthouse keeper Mr. Pew. "As old as a unicorn," the citizens of the village of Salts generally stay away from Pew; Silver think that they fear him because he isn't like them. The darkness of the lighthouse is the only home Pew has ever known, so it's difficult to say whether or not his blindness is because of it. Silver soon becomes used to the darkness, describing the darkness as one that "had to be brushed away or parted before we could sit down. Darkness squatted on the chairs and hung like a curtain across the stairway."

How suitable then, that Pew's bedtime stories are of the lighthouse builder's son: the lost love and ensuing travels of Babel Dark. These stories also signify the passage of time - both in Silver's world and in Dark's - until finally the worlds come together like a ship colliding with the rocky shore in the blackness of night.

As the novel concludes, a grown up Silver reflects on her own relationships, attesting that "life is so short. This stretch of sea and sand, this walk on the shore, before the tide covers everything we have done." She promises never to let the words of love be unspoken again, and we come full circle as Silver recants the stories to her lover, as well as the story of how they themselves met: "these were my stories - flashes across time."

As with her numerous other works, Winterson permeates your very soul, ingrains herself in your heart - a stowaway on your voyage across the ocean within; the ocean with no lighthouse to guide you.

How to Choose Your Bathroom Accessories Furnishings for Your Home