It took a very long time to get through this, and even now that I've finished it, I still can't be sure whether I really enjoyed it or not. 
 There's no denying that there is quality in Winterson's prose; it is poetic and unashamedly focused on emotion but there were moments when it felt a little overdone - I found myself overlooking the clever style and syntax and merely groaning and thinking: 'get to the point, already.' 
 The other flaw, for me, was the lack of gender specifics; no matter how much I wanted to wrap myself up in the tale, my mind kept wandering off, following dropped clues to the character's sex. If anything, it was an annoying and unnecessary distraction. 
 Overall, I'm rating this at a three, for writing skill and a story compelling enough to keep me going until the end. 
 If you're into poetry, love letters and the like, or you're enthralled about passion in general, this is for you - Winterson perfectly portrays that all-consuming, two-become-one kind of love in what can only be said to be the worship of another body, another being. It is quite beautiful to witness. 
 If however, on the other hand, you're the type that cannot particularly stand to beat about the bush, I suggest you roll your eyes now, take my word for it and move on to the next book.