Sylvia Plath Forum

Contributions: June 1998

Welcome to the Sylvia Plath Forum which began on 20th January 1998 following the surprise publication of Ted Hughes' Birthday Letters. The forum is moderated and administered by Elaine Connell.
Books and Links Poems Poem Analysis/Discussion

Any of you intelliegent, well-read regulars who know Plath so well also reading Rich and Boland? Anyone want to talk about their contribution as a generation of poets?

Jody AllenRandolph
 Santa Barbara, US
30th June 1998

I was at the Internet movie data base and I saw that there was once a made-for-TV movie on "The Bell Jar". I was just wondering if anyone ever saw it.It's pretty old,from the 80's I believe.Come to think of it I would be ecstactic if some director made a quality film on her life.

Rachel
 Southern California
29th June 1998

I'm writing a dissertation on Birthday Letters and would appreciate any hints on excellent reviews/where to get info etc as so far I've hit the papers and very little else....any suggestions please email me. Any forthcoming authors of crits are welcome to air their views on Birthday Letters with me, and of course the extra helpful ones will get a special 'thank you' at the end of my mini epic....what more could you possibly ask for in exchange? Obviously the emphasis will be on Hughes's poetry. I'm toying with the idea of seeing how successful the poems are when extricated from their biographical background, which is interesting, but may force me to turn a dissertation into a prac crit session, which I don't want....oh decisions. Anyway, I love discussions and arguments, and as my supervisor is a Bronte obsessive it would be particularly useful for me to gain extra opinions. As I'm in Cambridge, if anyone knows of any info tucked away in dark corners I havent yet ex! plored that would be great. Well, I think I shall go and read Chaucer. What fun. Hope to hear from anyone soon.

Ruth
 Cambridge, England
25th June 1998

Hi, i'm a 15 year old school boy studying "the Bell Jar" and if there is anyone that can help me with the project please e-mail me. I am looking at Buddy, Ester, Eric, Contantrin,mrs Willard and Ester's mum's attutides to men, women, sex and marriage so any one that can help me please do.

Thanx very much

Rowan
 Used to be Hebden Bridge, UK
25th June 1998

Re the Oates article;

I tend to think, "we dance around in a ring and suppose, but the Secret sits in the middle, and knows"--Oates's dance is measured in a very stately, scholarly, intelligent tread--which is a credit to her intellect--but, of course, the bird slips through the net, so to speak. I think it is that Oates's viewpoint is not that very far removed from that of Emerson's--that "any loss of the cosmos for him could seem nothing more serious than an adolescent's perverse rebelliousness, at its most profound a doubt to be answered with a few words." But there are those among us who have, one way or another, lost the cosmos; lost a piece of it, the size of a mother or father or brother or sister, or who have lost the weave that tied it together, and found that, to the cosmos, we are all trivial; what does one do with these moments, when the roof of heaven slips, and we find there is nothing, nothing at all, between us and the cold light of the stars? Waiting for me, for you--Lorelei, singing their siren songs forever? Emerson would weave you back to the planet into a patriarchy of good sense, Oates into a matriarchy--but the stars were there before Oates and Emerson, and will be there after; some simply slip through the nets of earth, and there is nothing to be done; what is there to be done with these mystics? they certainly lack good common sense; they keep having these troublesome visions; why can't they just stop, and be like the rest of us? When, for them, this world wavers like water, with eternity forever visible on the other side? --While it is a valid insight to say all poets are the same poet, writing the same poem, over and over, it is not the same as the problem of night--you can empty the dictionary into the ocean of night, and it has no more impact than a flung grain of sand--and then you realize, the cosmos is as indifferent to this world and every grain of sand on it; the night is eternal, we will never change it, only surrender to it ourselves, sooner or later, everything we have ever known; hopes, dreams, pieces of sun; the night devours them all with equal indifference; we wither like leaves, on the altar of its blindness. Once you know that; what then?

But words are such small lenses to bear on this, they congeal the light into a lie, of particularity--and so, from that perspective, one thinks that Oates is merely seeming to send her version of Plath through a gauntlet of mousetraps; it seems so trivial, somehow. Much of her critiques are right, just, even; so why do they seem so beside the point? And of course I think, all I have done is led my own reader and myself through a Morris-dance of deceit; better not to continue; silence is wisdom, isn't it? The stars are silent, aren't they? We only imagine Lorelei-songs for them, here, in the dream of night; and imagine that we dream; and so on, for ever.

Kenneth C. Jones
 San Francisco, USA
23rd June 1998

Hi there! Have any of you well-learned-Sylvia Plath fans out there got information on Plath's use of imagery in her "Selected Poems". Any comments/thoughts/ideas/addresses will be more than welcome. I am a 17 year old student and am researching vigorously for any additional info I can get my hands on, for an essay! Many thanks in advance!

Rehana Merali
 London, England
22nd June 1998

The Oates essay is a useful paradox; on the one hand, she is very intelligent about detailing the historical context for Romanticism; on the other, as she makes clear, she fails of any complete sympathy for Plath--for whatever reasons, I couldn't say. It should be read in conjunction with Elizabeth Hardwick's in "Seduction and Betrayal." But both are, essentially, lit-crit--no more--no less.

Kenneth C. Jones
 San Francisco, USA
19th June 1998

Christy, thank for your well-expressed thoughts regarding my posting. Looking at those journal excerpts sizzling at me from my screen, it did occur to me that journals are by nature a repository for extremes of emotion and that it is unfair to take them too literally or lend too much weight to them. How many artists' journals do we ever get to actually read? However, though this is a clever way to deflect the argument, I don't buy it, at least not in Plath's case, since one reads the journals (there is literally no way not to) knowing how the story will "turn out." That is, her suicide is the inescapable "nimbus" that surrounds the journals (and her poetry), given them the weight of prophetic utterance. I would argue that it is the cumulative effect of the journals, not communicable by extraction, that delivers the full impact of this self-tortured creature, circling like a wolverine caught in a maze -- no wonder she freaked out at the Rabbit Catcher's traps. One is dazzled by her and recoils from her at the same time. When Hughes says, regarding "Ariel," that the poems "ARE her," one begins to see what he means.

Again, I am puzzled by the frequent need to make excuses for, to apologize for, Plath's emotional problems, for her extremity. She is certainly not unique in that respect. She is certainly not alone amongst the great artists of post-WWII, for whom "dis-ease" and madness in one form or another seems to have been a pre-requisite for membership. Case in point: the great Robert Lowell, whose biography I am reading, and who, when last I left him, was in a manic phase of Catholic paranoia, on all fours in the bathtub gibbering prayers to St. Teresa of Lisieux.

Joyce Carol Oates, in her (in)famous 1973 essay on Plath, "The Death Throes of Romanticism," makes a compelling argument for the unhealthy dangers to the poet inherent in lyric poetry (one must remember that her essay was written during the height of the Confessional school's influence), and yet paradoxically acknowledges:

In this essay, Oates painfully and unflinchingly looks Plath's poetry squarely in the face. Although I do not agree with her political argument, I think her analysis of Plath as poet is often breathtaking. Her classic essay is excellent Forum fodder, and I would love to hear people's opinions about it.

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
17th June 1998

I'd like to know why Anne Sexton's "My Friend, My Friend" wasn't included in her Complete Poems.

Curiously excluded, don't you think.

Dena Tooma
 Toronto, Canada
17th June 1998

Thank you, Michael, for your posting. It's a shame you can't post Cam's essay! (Can you?) My own examination of the two poems convinces me that Sexton's "My Friend, My Friend" does indeed appear to be a Rosetta Stone of sorts, not only to "Daddy," but perhaps to the entire Ariel oeuvre.

In "My Friend, My Friend," Sexton confesses the burden of her "impossible" guilt and personal responsibility for an unnamed "sin" that I interpret to be her mental illness, her death drive. In half-envious, half-comforting words to her Jewish friend M. W. K., Sexton muses over how nice it would be "to be a Jew," to have a "reasonable hurt" to account for her "trouble:" "I wish some ancient bugaboo/ Followed me. But my sin is always my sin." Fundamental to the poem is Sexton's painful desire for explanation (a convenient scapegoat on which to "blame my origin") and expiation. Also crucial is the poet's acknowledgement of personal responsibilty.

I can understand why this villanelle would have resonated with Plath, not only because of its parallels to Plath's own suicidal sufferings, but because of Sextons' easy, contemporary use of form. That Plath used Sexton's poem as a schematic role model for "Daddy" shows us how much "My Friend, My Friend" moved her and perhaps vexed her to rivalry. But Plath famously extends and transforms Sexton's modest little poem. Aside from the brilliant surrealisme and bitterly mocking tone of "Daddy," Plath takes Sexton's soul-searching premise an unimaginable step further: agreeing that "it would be better to be a Jew," Plath audaciously declares she is one ("I think I may well be a Jew"), appropriates their "reasonable hurt" through horrific Holocaust imagery, and electrifyingly identifies her scapegoat - Sexton's yearned for "ancient bugaboo" becomes the Jew/Plath's Nazi Daddy/husband tormenter. Surely inspired by the recent execution of Eichmann in Jerusalem, Plath enacts an exorcism and ritual execution ("If I've killed one man, I've killed two") to bring about her own salvation (i.e., the defeat of the death drive: "So Daddy, you can lie back now."). In the process, Sexton's calm stance of personal responsibility is incinerated in the flames of Plath's self-righteous rage.

In essence, Sexton's poem seems to be a description of the "trouble" for which Plath ultimately attempts a "solution" in "Ariel." It is her identification of the "great scapegoat" (as she knowingly refers to Hughes in "Stings") that provides Plath with the necessary key to unlocking the prison doors of her psyche. Hughes' sexual betrayal, paradoxically, may have been the best thing to happen to her poetry. It provided Plath with the "reasonable hurt" needed to focus her self-destructive genius upon a tangible, external enemy/victim --- a tangible crisis to give her furious poetic voice its wings. The thermonuclear exhilaration of the daemon's release, like Plath's bees that "taste the Spring," is at once the thrill and horror of the Ariel poems. That her "solution" ultimately failed was Plath's tragedy, leaving Sexton to write, in her poem "Sylvia's Death:"

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
16th June 1998

Regarding Stewart's latest posting: (See below)

I think that what many of us lose sight of when reading biographies of Plath, particularly ones that make heavy use of her journals, is that we are in the unusual position of reading about a life that was meticulously recorded by its central character, for herself. Part of the reason Plath is often a dark, unlikeable figure in _Bitter Fame_ is that Plath ADMITS to more socially unacceptable feelings than most of us ever would -- not necessarily that she had more. Furthermore, her 'unacceptable' feelings were the ones she was more likely to record and try to understand. This selective reporting gives us a rather one-sided view of SP. It wasn't often that she wrote long passages trying to understand why she was happy for someone -- that was the way she was 'supposed' to feel. It's when she's feeling something that she 'shouldn't' that she spends a great deal of energy either trying to justify or understand her emotions.

As for SP's behavior -- we read about fifteen, maybe twenty incidents that are described in any detail in an average biography. It's human nature to pick out the extreme incidents when describing a person; they are the most salient - especially when we are developing a thesis about a person's character. However, a human life contains thousands and thousands of such 'incidents' -- most of which are unremarkable, and thus, unreported. The most unremarkable incidents are the ones where a person is behaving in a socially acceptable manner.

Plath's journals were clearly written with a great degree of candor, and its observations were meant for her eyes only (just read the famous passage about nose-picking!). How many of us HAVEN'T had moments of self-aggrandizement, arrogance, and extreme self-doubt? One of the differences between the rest of us and SP is that she was 1) very insightful and aware of her feelings, and 2) unafraid to explore and record those moments.

Arrogance is the central defining feature of people who aspire to do something "great". Without it, no one would ever try to write serious literary novels, no one would embark on medical research, no one would ever become a theoretical physicist, no one would ever try to beat the record time in the NYC marathon. It's this feeling that no matter who has tried it before, there is a slim chance that we might do better, might have something to contribute to the world, that propels us on.

There isn't much of a doubt in my mind that SP was difficult. However, it's easy to get an extremely exaggerated view of her degree of 'difficultness', though, just from reading a handful of commentaries (especially if it's true that people tend to report the extreme incidents). If someone wanted to demonstrate how difficult I am, it would be rather easy. Trudge up a few incidents where my guard was down, where I was working against an important deadline, where I was in mourning over a friend's death, and darn -- I look worse than SP! However, take those moments as a proportion of the sum total that I've been on earth, and it's relatively small amount of time.

I think that it's not the biographies, or the biographers that distort the view that we have of SP, but the fact that we don't take into account (during reading) that we're sometimes privy to priviledged information (journal passages) and reading about only the most extreme moments. I believe that personality/social/cognitive psychology research would bear this out.

Christy
 Ann Arbor, MI, USA
16th June 1998

A few years ago while doing research on "Daddy," I came across an article by Heather Cam titled, "'Daddy': Sylvia Plath's Debt to Anne Sexton." It appeared in the journal, American Literature, V. 59, No. 3, October 1987, and discussed the similarities between "Daddy" and a Sexton poem titled, "My Friend, My Friend." Sexton's poem was published in the Antioch Review in 1959, and the influence it must have had on Plath--as Cam points out--is fascinating. Because it does not appear in Houghton-Mifflin's "Anne Sexton: The Complete Poems," I thought it might be of interest to the Forum.

Michael McGraw
 New York, USA
16th June 1998

In light of all of this contention about the worthiness of untouchable laureates, mind-blown poets, and groveling biographers, maybe it's time for a small dash of "Midsummer Night's Dream":

Jack Folsom
 Sharon, Vermont, US
13th June 1998

Excerpts from Sylvia Plath's journals taken from Anne Stevenson's "Bitter Fame"

Re-reading "Bitter Fame," I am struck thus far that the controversy over character assassination by Olwyn Hughes via Anne Stevenson is beside the point. All Stevenson has to do is quote at length from Plath's own journals to reveal her subject in all her often unappetizing complexity. It is quite apparent from her own words that Plath was extremely troubled and unstable long before she met her husband, and one can conjecture that the story would have ended in a similar vein no matter what the particulars were that brought that end about. Living constantly on the "razor's edge" between fever pitch and suicidal depression, between arrogant self-worship and abject self-loathing, paralyzed by fractured and conflicting selves, personal and professional jealousy, and an obsessive desire for literary glory, her story is extremely frustrating and painful to read. Stevenson's often critical tone seems to me a natural reaction to her subject - to linger in Plath's head is to be trapped in a vise so crushing that one longs to step in and slap some sense into her.

Despite the brilliant and ironically posthumous legacy of "Ariel," Plath's is certainly a disturbing, cautionary tale. Paul Alexander in "Rough Magic," perhaps because he was either unwilling or unable to quote from Plath's journals to the degree granted Stevenson, artfully distorts through paraphrase to give us a portrait, done in Harlequin Romance fashion as Nancy of Falls Church shrewdly observed, of a far different, far less difficult Sylvia. Again, I am grateful to the much-maligned Stevenson for her book.

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
11th June 1998

Mike, you neglected to mention Henry Pye and Colley Cibber in your list of immortal laureates.

Melissa Dobson
 Newport RI, USA
11th June 1998

Now, I'm in the middle of reading the more interesting parts of "Winter Pollen." I'm carefully reading around the Plath-centric essays, as I want to save them, let my anticipation build until they're the last essays I haven't read. But I did scan over the chapter that is focused on "Sheep in the Fog." I have to say, just doing so revealed it's fascinating angles.

And yes, Stewy, I can't wait to share my thoughts with you. In my habit as a chain-reader, I have to get through three books right now before I can devote myself to Hughes' ramblings. . .er, I mean thoughts.

Great day, everyone!

P.S-"A Closer Look at Ariel" by Nancy Hunter-Steiner was a biased account of Sylvia as the sinner, Nancy as the saint. I found the book to be insensitive, boring and a bunch of fluff. The author seemed to be out only to capitalize on the Ariel Mania that was in the 70s.

Dena Tooma
 Toronto, Canada
11th June 1998

Melissa Dobson, like a glimpse of the reclusive Garbo, your appearance on the Forum is always occasion for flashing blubs and scurrying paparazzi! Already, you're stirring up comment.

I recall listening to Plath's BBC interview with amusement as she listed her poetic influences to Peter Orr (Yeats, Auden, Shakespeare, Blake) with nary a mention of her estranged husband, who, far from not being an influence, had even been the catalyst for (and subject matter of) the shocking sheaf of poems she'd just finished reciting!

I find the tangled web of their symbiosis quite fascinating - particularly the fact that she wrote a great many of the most "personally aggressive" of the "Ariel" poems on the reverse sides of Hughes' own drafts and copies in what seems a quite symbolic manifestation of their personal and artistic agon. Yes, I agree that she would never have found her Ariel voice without their strange relationship - in a way, "Ariel" represents their terrible and awesome third child, more powerful than the both of them. It cannot be doubted that, whatever sort of "virtual laurels" might await our poets in the distant future, the blazing, legendary "Ariel" will always assure Sylvia Plath a triumphant place of her own in literary history. I am driven, however, to throw the poor Poet Laureate, sinking so pitifully into that Dantean bog, the benefit of a life preserver!

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
10th June 1998

Melissa, One point that you have been misled on:

"that she never would have found the voice of Ariel -- for which she will be remembered long after Hughes's works (with the exception of Birthday Letters and the remarkable Crow) have been consigned to the bog"

Hughes is poet laureate of England, a lifetime title conferred to only a handful of poets-- some of the greatest in the English language (Pope and Dryden, e.g.) and his book 'Tales from Ovid' won the coveted Whitbread award. Other books such as 'Difficulties of a Bridegroom' will certainly stand the test of time. It was Hughes who led Plath, that's for certain.

Mike Brudzinski
 Huntington, USA
10th June 1998

It's interesting to think about what measure of a poet Plath would have become had she never come under Hughes's influence. I hold two seemingly contradictory opinions on the matter: 1) that she never would have found the voice of Ariel -- for which she will be remembered long after Hughes's works (with the exception of Birthday Letters and the remarkable Crow) have been consigned to the bog; and 2) that it is to Plath and Plath alone that we can attribute her poetic genius, which would have manifested itself as fiercely in Hughes's absence. Since Hughes was NOT absent, however, the question of influence is inescapable, and if you study the early work of both poets -- or the work they were doing early in their relationship -- it is clear that Hughes's influence on Plath was enormous. Look at a line from SP's "The Lady and the Earthenware Head," written in 1957, for example: "Rough boys,/Spying a pate to spare/Glowering sullen and pompous from an ash-heap,/Might well seize this prize, Maltreat the hostage head in shocking wise . . ." I see Longfellow, Lowell, maybe Moore here, but very little Plath. Hughes writes in Birthday Letters ("The Earthenware Head") that the poem lumbered from a "ransacked thesaurus" -- she was writing out of books before the blood jet gushed. In contrast, a summary reading of Hughes's Hawk in the Rain (1956) yields the following lines/images:

Am I correct in detecting a certain Plathian cadence here? If so, it surfaces first in Hughes's work. She knew what she needed; Plath deliberately apprenticed herself to a master, one whom she would later surpass. It's fortuitous that this master was Hughes, brute, "no cage to him" Hughes, who was prophetic in an early poem, "Song," in which he mused

Melissa Dobson
 Newport RI, USA
10th June 1998

I am immeasurably pleased to have found your page. Sylvia Plath has been a near obsession of mine for years. I write poetry, and would like to share some of my thoughts about Plath with some of her admmirers. I have previously written to the forum but I do not know if my letter was received. I did email a person from the forum and he responded. This is a vital link to poets everywhere. I believe by reading about Plath, and of course reading Plath herself is a great way to expand our knowledge of poetry and to hone our skills.

Roberta Byrd
 Lawton, Okla, USA
9th June 1998

Thank you, Elaine, for your excellent posting about the merits of Plath and Hughes as artists, and for your acknowledgement of the subtextual "sex wars" lurking under Plath/Hughes studies which has, I think, unfairly damaged both poets' reputations. I remember Peter Steinberg's observation a while back regarding the apparent national rivalry that exists over the two --- Plath the gold medalist under the U. S. banner, Hughes the dark darling of the UK. Sad, sad, sad. I have long been frustrated by Hughes' utter lack of presence upon the shelves of the poetry sections in American bookstores (prior to "Birthday Letters" that is, which is everywhere). Where is "Hawk in the Rain?" "Lupercal?" "Wodwo?" These books are remarkable, and of great interest even to the most plathological of Plathians, I would think, since they were written during the Marriage ("Lupercal," I believe, is dedicated "To Sylvia") and one can clearly see the artistic symbiosis that was occurring between them (her poetry, I think, was quite influenced by his, until she found her unique voice flapping out of the "Elm.").

Far from belonging with the "little boys," Hughes is a great poet - as I've said before, I think he is perhaps the last in the long line of daemonic Romantics extending from Blake and Coleridge. His exhilarating work can be frightening, yes, but less so than Plath's, I think. As I see it, implicit in Hughes' work is a will toward survival, primarily through the acceptance of (submission to?) the violence and dominance of Nature. Plath, in rejecting Nature ("I am I"), is devoured by it and, as you say, entices the reader with her siren song from the womb/tomb. The thrill of reading Plath, for me, is akin to the suspense one feels when boarding a rollercoaster - the reader can safely flirt with madness, suicide and death in a game of "chicken," death hurdle after death hurdle vicariously cleared (to paraphrase Lowell). Hughes, on the other hand, inspires an uneasy awe and wonder, touching convincingly upon an occult universe that exists unseen beneath a natural world too often viewed through a benevolent Wordsworthian lens.

Deema, I hope you enjoy "Winter Pollen." I recommend it heartily for its numerous moving essays on Plath's work, including a fascinating explication of "Sheep in Fog," not to mention the essays on Shakespeare, Dickinson and T. S. Eliot, inspiring meditations upon personal creativity, and a stunning analysis of the visionary poems of Coleridge. Perhaps you could give us your thoughts on the book.

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
9th June 1998

I don't count Janet Malcolm's journalistic, engrossing 'The Silent Woman' among the pure biographies, but it's BY FAR my favorite work about Sylvia Plath. The problem with most Plath biographies is the lack of balance. I wouldn't want my sister-in-law, my college roommate, my mother or even someone who worships my image (!) to present what could be construed as a 'definitive' portrait of me to the reading public. Malcolm successfully presents Sylvia's many sides within an exploration of biography as a genre.

While my favorite bio used to be Alexander's 'Rough Magic,' I've found myself referring to Stevenson, Wagner-Martin and even the much-maligned Butscher more and more for hard facts. Admittedly, I pounced upon the Alexander book when it first came out because it conformed to the image of Sylvia Plath I liked best at the time: the tortured heroine. Upon subsequent readings, I became very annoyed by Alexander's almost novelistic approach to biography ('Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief ...' 'Sylvia checked her watch nervously as she approached Mrs. Prouty's Brookline mansion ...' 'Sylvia looked dreamily into Ted's eyes ...'). If 'Rough Magic' is indeed the book upon which the movie is based, blocking and stage direction are ready-made!

Nancy
 Falls Church, Virginia, USA
9th June 1998

How about Bitter Magic, or Rough Fame? I feel each books strong in it's own focus. Like Elaine mentioned, you can't say who is the better poet! I almost feel you can't say who wrote a better biography. Could Alexander have gotten away with a recollection of Plath and Hughes at the Merwin's in France, I doubt it, and at the same time, a Chapter like the Blue Hour in Rough Magic would have been totally out of place in Stevensons work.

Also, isn't Alexander's effort considered to be 'unofficial?' That's another reason, if it is, I really can't remember, the books a solar system away from me at the moment, anyway, Stevenson was lead on a nice little leash, and Alexander I imagine was just scrapping up the rest--whatever he could. Though I tend to re read bits of Rough Magic more than I do Bitter Fame. Though I guess we should clutch it like the Bible now that Stevenson told us to...The memoir by Lucas Meyers (sp?) and Dido Merwin are nice to have though.

Peter Steinberg
 Alexandria, Virginia, USA
9th June 1998

A recurrent question which keeps appearing on the Forum is who is the better poet, Plath or Hughes?

It's a question that I don't really think needs posing because they are such different poets. It's rather like trying to compare ice cream with olives! There is also a sub-text present which is saying choose your poet, choose your side in the Great Who Was To Blame For Thte Marriage Breakdown? debate, which is, in my opinion, a rather pointless side issue in artistic, though not in human interest terms.

I admire both poets equally if not reluctantly because in the marriage breakdown debate I'm with Sylvia. But I feel that one has to accept that quite monstrous people with despicable beliefs (eg Ezra Pound) can still be great writers.

I thrill to Plath because she has written so vividly of previously taboo subjects such as menstruation, birth, women's rage and above all for her vivid exploration of a tortured psyche, those terrifying images of inner torment with the constant beckoning of achieving peace through annihilation. When I read Plath I am almost always conscious of a force which is both threatening and enticing us into relatively uncharted areas of human consciousness which are simultaneously attractive and repellent.

Hughes is a similarly "frightening" poet in the uncompromising way in which he explores extreme emotions, urges and ideas. The similarity ends there because Hughes (until "Birthday Letters") has subsumed himself into the subjects of his poems. Like Eliot and Pound he is adept at adopting a persona. Unlike Sylvia, he is not threatened by the universe (probably because he was/is the right gender in a man's world) but seeks to possess it and convey to his readers how the protagonists in his "Nature red in tooth and claw" version of the Creation experience their existence.

Sylvia is nearly always present in her poems as the filtering, civilised female human consciousness, though towards the end of her life she was beginning to transcend the boundaries of civilisation and developing into a visionary poet.

Over the extra years he's had Hughes has completely broken the boundaries of traditional Christian civilisation/philosophy presenting us with a violent, depressing vision that many of us would like to ignore. Which brings us back to Plath - many people find the way she writes from the edge of madness and despair equally hard to handle.

Who's the greater? Don't even ask!

Elaine Connell
 Hebden Bridge, UK
9th June 1998

It's good to see the old gang back in the saddle again! Yes, Elaine, I suppose I was trying to stir things up. However, I remain unapologetic about my enthusiasm for "Bitter Fame. " I find it to be the most valuable of the books on Plath next to Janet Malcolm's penetrating "The Silent Woman, " which is, among other things, a detailed analysis and devastating critique of the genre of biography itself in the wake of the "Bitter Fame" backlash.

Even in its so-called contaminated state (as if the opinions of the Hughes family were any more suspect than those of Plath's friends and supporters), I believe Stevenson's book offers a much clearer picture of Plath than any of the other biographies, precisely because of its unmerciful perspective. The book is invaluable for its revelation of the strong, unpleasant effect Plath had on a great number of people --- I find their opinions no more biased than those which portray Plath as the sweet, victimized ingenue of Paul Alexander's "Rough Magic," a book I cannot read without imagining the sickly sweet string section of the Hollywood Bowl orchestra trembling in the background. "Bitter Fame" holds Plath up, not for reverence, but for cold examination. Although I think you exaggerate Stevenson's portrayal of Plath as "a totally selfish, demanding, deviant, sexually rapacious woman," I will not deny that the picture she paints is a harsh one. I find it to be perfectly in s! ync with the chthonic persona I perceive in the poems and journals, and the vivid, unsalutary reminiscenses strewn throughout the book are an illumination, a much needed antidote to the pervasive Plath-as-martyr cottage industry personified by "Rough Magic." If "Bitter Fame" is an frontal assault from the foxholes of the pro-Hughes compound, then Alexander's book is a dissembling whitewash, with absurdly naive interpretations of the poetry that I find much more insulting to Plath than anything her ex-sister-in-law could come up with.

It doesn't surprise me that the new Plath film is based upon "Rough Magic," since Hughes has so many wonderfully villainous moments in its pages - attempted murder, black magic, and more. I'm sure the film will be much to the taste of the exotically named Margheritta Tessitore of Hannibal, who seems to have watched one too many episodes of the "X-Files."

Melissa Dobson, come back to the five-and-dime.

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
8th June 1998

Has anyone read "Winter Pollen" by Ted Hughes?? I just bought it in a bargain bin(!!)and am pleased to see a great deal of discussion devoted to the poetry of Sylvia Plath. I can't wait to devour it.

Dena Tooma
 Toronto, Canada
8th June 1998

Maybe Stewart likes Stevenson's biography best because it somehow confirms his image of Sylvia, as he even said. All reality is in our heads, of course, and quant a' moi, I'm with Elaine 100% in preferring Paul Alexander's biography -- not because it's unbiased, but because it confirms my image of Sylvia. This view has less to do with my being a "fan" of Sylvia than with my sense of her from the years of research that I have done. One of the best biographies of the more scholarly sort in the previous decade was done by Linda Wagner-Martin (Simon & Schuster, 1987). I was happy to have helped somewhat in the research on that project.

But let us not get into a squabble about Anne Stevenson being or not being Olwyn's pawn. All of these studies help our understanding, offer different perspectives. And I will say again that "Ted-bashing" on this forum, which seems to have erupted again, has no place in discussion among people who are informed and fair-minded about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. Cheerio!

Jack Folsom
 Sharon, Vermont, US
8th June 1998

I just graduated from college. One of my last courses there was American Literature 2 under a Professor X He did not think Sylvia was a good enough poet to be done in his class. But, I on the other hand did. I think she is every bit as good as Hughes if not better. So, I wrote a paper on Sylvia everything from her beginnings to her tragic death. Mr. X was not at all pleased with the paper or me. He wrote on my paper: "A good piece but as I mentioned, I don't take the hysterics of some of Sylvia's most feminists-angry fans too seriously. They too much miss the ART of the poetry in seeing it as so blood-red literal. Their anger simply approves her anger without any critical distinction, and that is more an insult to her art than a credit. The comment, about Hughes's anti. Americanness, for instance, entirely miss the point." When I spoke to him about this he told me he knew Hughes personally, and that they even joked about Slyvia's commiting suicide, the joke went something like this " Sylvia only committed suicide because she could never write as well as Hughes."

As far as I am concerned she was by far the better poet. When I told this to Mr. X he changed my grade from an A+ to an A lets talk about petty. Sylvia was a great loss to her fans and maybe someday when Hughes grows up he will come close to her writing abilities till then he had best stay with the little boys. I feel it is a little late for Hughes to try and clear his conscience now. What about the second Mrs. Hughes she killed herself and their child the same way that Sylvia did, what about that was she looking for publicity also? Or maybe they both could not stand his pompous attitude any longer and just thought this was the only way to be rid of him for good.

It also strikes me as strange that Sylvia did not commit suicide when Hughes left, but when he was coming home to try to work things out with her. Why, why then and not before? Could it be that she would do anything not to have to live with him again? Mr. X says " it was just one of her little dramas that went wrong." I do not think so I think she meant to do just what she did.... But the question why will ever be on the lips of every Plath fan. My she rest in peace. Maybe someday we will know what really happened to Sylvia, maybe it was not suicide but murder. Only time will tell.

Margheritta Tessitore
 Hannibal , USA
7th June 1998

Stewart! You're trying to wind us up! Anne Stevenson's biography the best and most accurate so far?!

I think it's not so much a biography as an extended work of character assassination. I found it most unbalanced. Sylvia is presented as a totally selfish, demanding, deviant, sexually rapacious woman living permanently on the borders of psychosis who tortured her own family, the Hughes' family and close friends from her birth to her death. There's little sympathy for her very real suffering and scant appreciation for her huge, creative powers.

I remember when it was first published in 1989 there was a TV Arts programme in which several of Plath's friends were interviewed who were absolutely appalled by the portrayal and argued very forcibly that is was highly inaccurate. Alvarez was horrified by its contents referring to it as "three hundred and fifty pages of disparagement." (Quoted in "In Search of the Complete Plath" in the "Weekend Guardian" 1.8.92) In fact, the whole tone of the work has the feeling of not bitter fame but a bitter family feud.

You're no doubt aware that a major source for this work was Ted's sister Olwyn and there was little love lost between the two sisters-in-law. So great was Olwyn's contribution ( or interference in my own and several other people's opinion) to the book that Stevenson herself says that it should really be regarded as a work of "dual authorship" ( author's note page ix) between herself and Olwyn Hughes. In fact, Olwyn receives 40% of the British and 30% of the American royalties for "Bitter Fame". This is the Hughes' version of events and as such should be treated with great caution. From what I've read in Janet Malcolm's book "The Silent Woman" and from the impressions I gained both from hearing Stevenson speak in 1991 and meeting her personally a couple of years ago, I believe that Stevenson herself regrets having put her name to the biography and feels somewhat used by the Hughes's.

Personally, I think that Paul Alexander's book "Rough Magic" (upon which I've heard the infamous biopic is to be based) is the best biography I've read so far.

Elaine Connell
 Hebden Bridge, UK
7th June 1998

There was an excellent article on Frieda Hughes by Nigel Jones published in The Guardian on Saturday, November 8th 1997. It also contained one of Freida's poems, "Readers". The article was used to publicise her new book "The Tall Story", sorry don't have any details of publisher etc.

The Guardian do not keep archives on this subject on line but give details on how to obtain back copies at www.guardian.co.uk

Brilliant site Elaine, thanks.

Alan Lewis
 Rushden, UK
6th June 1998

It's Official. In the June 1998 issue of Empire ( a British magazine on movies), on page 16 there is a blurb about the impending Meg Ryan film. To be called 'Sylvia Plath Biopic.' The director as well as support cast and release date are TBA.

What worries me, and I really don't intend to start another debate on the forum, but what bug's me is that if the movie is rotten, the is all the (American) people will turn there backs on Plath the poet and novelist. There will be the inital interest by everyone and there mother, to read up on her, and then they will see the film, and then it's a good thing they kept their receipts, and returns will begin. How many times has this thing happened before...?

The movie can't have a Hollywood ending, Plath commits suicide...and no sense of 'justice' ever falls upon Hughes. So, you kind of really have to wonder...silently.

Peter Steinberg
 Alexandria, Virginia, USA
5th June 1998

Re: visiting Plath's former homes. It truly is an amazing experience and I, too, felt sick and overcome by a chill at the Fitzroy flat. And somewhat disappointed that her name wasn't up there next to Yeats. In 1994, I spent a semester at the University of London and used the opportunity to visit and photograph every one of Plath's past residences I could find addresses for. My most memorable experience was in Cambridge at the flat she shared there with Hughes on Eltisley Ave. It's just up the street from Grantchester Meadows (about which she wrote at least one poem...) I remember the day so well: a cold, bleak day in February.

I found the house with no problem (I had gotten the address from one of the biographies) I snapped a few pictures of the exterior and decided to try my luck with a knock on the door. A man, pleasant, perhaps in his mid-thirties, opened the door with a smile. I explained that I was an American student, obsessed with Plath, and was spending a few days tracking down her old haunts. I confessed to already having taken some pictures of his home and asked if he would mind if I did some snooping around the yard. Not only did he give me free run of the (very small) property, but he actually invited me INSIDE!!! I thought I would fall over. I entered the house and went into the living room where I saw a fireplace I immediately recognized--I knew it from a picture in the Bitter Fame biography--Plath is sitting next to it in a photo circa 1957... I simply could not believe that after all this time it was still there, intact, and even more unbelievable, that I was there too! As it turns out, the couple who lived there were also big fans of Plath. In the room that used to be her bedroom, they had a small table set up with all of her books... An apple tree she wrote about still grows in the backyard ..... I asked if they got many "Plath visitors" and they said just a few here and there, mostly American, mostly female. All in all, it was an amazing experience. I would be happy to e-mail black and white scans of any of the photos to anyone interested... Anyone else have similar experiences?

Michael McGraw
 New York , USA
5th June 1998

Gemma Turner, for info on Freida Hughes, see my posting of April 20th. Since that time, I have located the full article in the January 20th Times, "Lifting Plath's Bell Jar," which was a featured column by Libby Purves, not a letter to the editor as I erroneously believed. You can find this article in the on-line archives of the Time's website http://www.the-times.co.uk/. It is a very informative piece, and gives much insight into the mindset of the Hughes family.

Thanks to Peter Steinberg's tip, I happily purchased the paperback reissue of Anne Stevenson's Bitter Fame, which is the best of the Plath biographies since it dovetails so nicely with my own opinions. In the new preface, Stevenson boldy recommends her book as the best commentary one can find (to date, at least) to facilitate a deep reading and comparative analysis of Hughes' Birthday Letters to Plath's journals and poetry. I believe she's right, although her vision of the dedicated Plath reader, hunched like a medieval monk over what must amount to a vast workdesk overlaid with the hefty open texts of Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath, Letters Home, Birthday Letters, and Bitter Fame, exhausts me and suggests I must find a bigger apartment. Still, I heartily recommend the book. (Razor blades not included.)

Stewart Clarke
 New York, USA
5th June 1998

Fellow Plath fans....in this weeks Time magazine Plath was named one of the top five poets of the Century...she's the only female on that list too....Number one was T.S. Eliot, followed by Yeats, Frost, Auden, Plath and Ginsberg. Ginsberg???/ anyway...Hip Hip Hooray. In other American News...there is a new and very attractive edition of the Colossus & Other Poems on the shelves, selling for $12. It's no longer the hideous blue and orange stripes!!!! It's not a matte photograph of her sitting down....and like the new Journals, it's od so pretty. I am putting money down that we'll have, by the years' end, a new edition for each book of poetry and I think they'll even reprint Johnny Panic...don't quote me on this...it's just a guess....

Peter Steinberg
 Alexandria, Virginia, USA
5th June 1998


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This forum is administered by Elaine Connell, author of Sylvia Plath: Killing The Angel In The House - second edition with new preface just out, December 1998. Elaine lives in Hebden Bridge, near where Sylvia Plath is buried and where Ted Hughes was born. Web Design by Pennine Pens. This forum is moderated - contributions which are inappropriate, anonymous or likely to offend may be edited or omitted.