Fiction needs its specifics, its anchors. It needs also to pass beyond them. It needs to be weighed down with characters we can touch and know, it needs also to fly right through them into a larger, universal space. This paradox makes work readable and durable, from its impossible tension, something harmonious is born.
Jeanette Winterson,
Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit in the Introduction (via
distantheartbeats)