JEANETTE WINTERSON REVISTED

It's been twenty years since Jeanette Winterson stunned the literary world with Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit. I recently finished The Passion and found it curiously flat. It was as if the story had driven the engine of the experience so completely, that in the words of Virginia Woolf "the text failed to vibrate." I find this question so intriguing: what creates a Picasso or a James Joyce who push the edges of anartform incessantly, constantly expanding the envelope, right up until their deaths. And what creates an artist who makes a stunning debut but devolves from that point of origin into a product? All ideas on this welcomed.