Sylvia Plath

I love Plath's poetry. Relatively comprehensive collection here: http://www.angelfire.com/tn/plath/

For me it eloquently ties together a lot of desperate ideas I've had floating around in my own mind. I feel it can be construed as trying too hard and can see this is some of her work, but I don't think this attribute is unique to her. I find that every poet has verse I like, and verse I don't and Plath is no exception. I deeply enjoy the confessional mode (whatever it's literary validity), the hyperbolic nature of the subject matter, the religious symbolism, and the emotive and vivid imagery.

My favourites:

Words

Axes
After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off from the center like horses.

The sap
Wells like tears, like the
Water striving
To re-establish its mirror
Over the rock

That drops and turns,
A white skull,
Eaten by weedy greens.
Years later I
Encounter them on the road---

Words dry and riderless,
The indefatigable hoof-taps.
While
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.

Black Rook in Rainy Weather

On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, not seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Leap incandescent

Out of the kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then ---
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); sceptical,
Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel.
For that rare, random descent.

She's cool. Sometimes I feel she's just throwing words around. Sometimes.

I'm relatively new to the forum (certainly to posting) and I'm currently contemplating writing my dissertation on Plath. I was pleased to find this thread and its insightful comments as I've been feeling a little deflated on the subject of Plath lately and feeling that perhaps I made a mistake in choosing her as a dissertation topic. She has certainly received her fair share of attention from critical writers and it's become disheartening to see just how much of that criticism is based on the biographical opinions of her mental state and the fact of her suicide. Most critics seem to rely heavily on one or the other in order to interpret her work. With the vast ammount thats been written about her already however, I'm finding it hard to find something original to say... which is why I ended up here.

Apologies for not quoting, but I'd like to add my opinion on the final lines of 'Edge' also,

I think that throughout her poetry the moon is often used to symbolise female fertility. In 'Edge' I think the 'moon in her hood of bone' is quite literally the womb in the hood of bone that is the pelvis. The moon is portrayed as indifferent perhaps because Plath viewed biology to be indifferent to individuality... there has been some discussion over whether or not Plath viewed her female biology as a prison of some sort, or at least something which prevented her from transcending the body. The last line remains a mystery to me though... although I see 'crackle' and 'drag' as having connotations of old age and disrepair... perhaps there is an element of being done with biology/life.

I realise it's cheeky to ask, but I'm looking for inspiration for an approach to my paper and was wondering whether any fans of her had any opinions about what maybe they feel has been long overlooked in her work?

To Lady Lazarus: I have been captivated by Plath's poetry for many years and would only recommend that you try to avoid her mental health and poet husband (whom she completely eclipsed in my opinion) and find a theme for your thesis in her amazing imagery, metaphor selection and choice of title for both poem and collection. She may have been "compelled by calamity's magnet" but is a genious nontheless. q1

Quote:

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Originally Posted by OrphanPip

Clearly it treated Plath's depression effectively...

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Bwahahaha:nod:

Meh..When I was a younger woman, with far less life and reading experience than I have now, I really connected with Plath's poetry. I don't love it any more. I spend most of my time reading her poetry wanting to shake her, take her out to jump on the trampoline and telling to just buck up!

Plus, I find myself angry at her and John Berryman and Robert Lowell and the rest of the Confessional Poet lot for opening the door to just reams upon reams of awful poetry and memoirs.

Thank you Quasimodo, I am feeling less deflated and more motivated now. Have decided to explore the concept of the self and of nature (not Plath's self personally) in the poetry and short stories with reference to existentialism, postmodernism and ontological scepticism. Quite a broad topic I know but I'm narrowing it down slowly...

This may be of interest here. An interview with Olwyn Hughes talking about Ted and Sylvia.



http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013...tor?CMP=twt_gu

What do you think about this poem?

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

I think it's a poem with a good grip on the imaginative digestion of reality...but is ultimately devoid of any discovery or new understanding. A typical Plath effort: fun but nothing that might bring me to joy, tears, or deep appreciation. I've come to a point where I pass her up if I'm in search for a sublime fix. :)

Quite like Mad Girl's Love Song. One of the few villanelles that don't end up repetitive, as the repetition only adds to the theme of obsession. I was surprised that ol' Hong Kong put Plath on their lit syllabus. We did Poppies In July, Pheasant, You're, Mushrooms, and Crossing the water. Funny how people kept interpreting every poem as about her marriage and/or feminism. You're is so pleasantly cheerful for once. I've got a collection of her poetry but have yet to read all of the poems properly haha :)

I remember The Bell Jar as being one of the most beautifully written books I had ever read. I thought it would be a "chick" book but it is much more than that. She tells a story with a clarity and facility that lets it naturally falls into place. I found it so compelling I couldn't put it down. She is a fine writer and, well, I just naturally love anyone that's suicidal.

So any of you suicidal folks out there, hold on, hold on! Don't do it! I love you. Come on. Let's compare notes.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by _Shannon_

Bwahahaha:nod:



Plus, I find myself angry at her and John Berryman and Robert Lowell and the rest of the Confessional Poet lot for opening the door to just reams upon reams of awful poetry and memoirs.

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Agree.

I love Plath, but I do wish her fans wouldn't demonize Ted Hughes so much. Everything I've read about him suggests that he was a lovely guy- very kind and loyal. His poetry is great as well.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by WICKES

I love Plath, but I do wish her fans wouldn't demonize Ted Hughes so much. Everything I've read about him suggests that he was a lovely guy- very kind and loyal....

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"Loyal"??? He cheated on her with another woman. Plath intercepted a phone call from Hughes' mistress in their home. This humiliated her and sent her over the edge. He left and told her he never wanted the 2 children they had, leaving her to take care of them by herself through a hellish winter. Within a year of discovering his infidelity, Plath committed suicide.