“Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home—they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside.” (Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?)

Jeanette Winterson, born in Manchester August 27, 1959, is an award winning and well-loved author in the UK and North America. For many queers like me, Winterson was the first openly lesbian author I’d ever read. She gave voice to experiences I was having and made me realize how powerful it is to finally see yourself represented. I have read and re-read many of Winterson’s works, and it always feels like coming home.

The first time I heard of Jeanette Winterson was shortly after coming out.  I was nineteen and having an angsty conversation with a friend about my gender identity. I was certain I wanted to date women, but I didn’t feel comfortable in my own body and gender. My friend, who had been out for many years, patiently listened and then handed me a copy of Written on the Body.

While not one of Winterson’s most famous novels, Written on the Body is one of my favorites because it’s full of humor, longing and relatable angst. I was enthralled by the description of the narrator’s various romantic misadventures. Characters like the romantic anarcha-feminist girlfriend who was deeply conflicted because, “[s]he knew the Eiffel Tower was a hideous symbol of phallic oppression but when ordered by her commander to detonate the lift so that no-one would unthinkingly scale an erection, her mind filled with young romantics gazing over Paris and opening aerograms that said Je t’aime.” Who says lesbian feminists don’t have a sense of humor?

However, what was most exciting for me is that the narrator’s gender is never explicitly stated. After spending most of my life reading literature from a male perspective, I’ve never known how to identify with the characters in stories. The male character that has agency or the female character that is there simply to be desired.  Neither fit. The nameless and genderless narrator of Written on the Body is one of my favorites because they are so relatable. They try to mask their insecurities with humor, make bad decisions, are unreliable, are both violent and deeply vulnerable, and desperate to be loved. I could see myself in this character.  I think one of the most beautiful parts of the book is when Louise, the main love interest, says “When I saw you two years ago I thought you were the most beautiful creature male or female I had ever seen.” As a queer teenager, I ached for someone to say that to me.

Throughout her body of work, Winterson explores what it means to want to belong and be loved. In her first and most celebrated work, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, she tells the fictionalized story of growing up as the adopted child of Pentecostal evangelists. At school, she is an outcast for her religious beliefs and is friendless and bullied. Eventually she makes a friend and falls in love with her. Her mother and religious community accuse her of being possessed by the devil, and she goes through horrific experiences including an exorcism. Eventually she gets kicked out of the church and her home. Where do you go when you're a child without a home?

For Winterson, the answer was to find a home in books. In her autobiography Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?, Winterson writes about being kicked out of her home and going to the library. Her mother’s abusive behavior is juxtaposed with the power of stumbling across T.S. Eliot and falling in love with poetry. Love of books gave her something to hold onto despite her difficult childhood. Yet books were mostly forbidden. Her mother only allowed her to read six books, most of which were religious texts. So as a child, Winterson had to hide literature under her mattress. When her mother found out, she burned all of her books. This is when Jeanette Winterson became a writer: she realized that the only way to save herself was to write her own stories. When her entire world was telling her she was wrong, she made a place for herself through her writing.

Jeanette Winterson writes about how going to the library gave order to her violent and chaotic childhood.  In turn, her work gave me a sense of belonging when I was trying to figure out my own gender and sexuality. Providing people with access to literature can be a life-changing act. That’s why in celebrating Jeanette Winterson’s birthday today, I’d like to also celebrate all of those who find their home in books.