r/sylviaplath

I’m halfway through Red Comet and I wanted to share how magnificent I think Sylvia’s life was. Even though she left us way too soon, I think she lived her life to the absolute fullest... she crushed it academically, won several awards for her art, studied at great colleges, traveled a lot, met a lot of guys, went to parties, spent wonderful days at the beach... The more I read, the more blown away I am by how much of a life-lover she was, at least in my view so far. What an interesting woman! I was familiar with her work, but when it came to her personal life, I only knew the surface, and with this biography... wow! I totally get why she is so analyzed to this day. I'm honestly dying to keep reading and looking at the photos... it’s so good to have so much material to dive into.

After reading the Colossus(and Other Poems) and Ariel. I have developed so much appreciation for her writing, love the way she has her lines flow from one line into the other without even clause breaks and such, so much more soothing and sublime at times and sometimes jagged and disorienting(like in ariel). also people only seem to give love to the bell jar? and a few poems from the Ariel posthumous publication.

My favorites are: Medusa, A Birthday Present, Full Fathom Five, Hard Castle Crag and Poppies in October.
and ofc the classics, Lady Lazrus, Daddy, Fever 103, and the Applicant

But I came in here to see what people actually enjoy.

What are your favorite Plath poems, including all her collected, uncollected, and Winter Trees books(I have yet to read those).

I’m a med student. I’ve read and loved the bell jar. the despair, the lives that could be, the disquieting experience of being a woman with a mind of her own resonates deeply with me. here’s my tribute to plath with a reflection from today. I’d love to know how you think the themes here resonate with the bell jar, if they do, any feedback as well!

We had a long day of classes and maternity ward work today. This is was the first time i was allowed to monitor a foetus’s heartbeat through the mum’s womb, on a monitor- A landmark event for most med students. Although a woman, I’m inherently unmoved by themes such as babies, pregnancy, the whole ‘motherhood’ thing, and pardon me for that, I’m mentally ill and anhedonic. I don’t think there’s a soft corner, a mum’s heart, anywhere within me, or if it is, it may be frozen deep in some recess. No shivers, no “oooh!” moment for me when I finally detected the heart beat-but, the mum looked into my eyes and smiled. So I did too. that smile, reassured and eased with satisfaction stayed etched in my head. Once I was back in my room, lying in my bed, I thought how I am in all probability never going to be a mother. A decision like that in this economy, this state of the world and given the tedious medicine timeline seems unnecessary to me. I think of the women I’ve seen in the past few days- someone who underwent a cerclage- the birth-canal literally tied shut to prevent a miscarriage. A mum pregnant with twins barely able to move. Women with anticipation, excitement and nervousness fleeting across their faces, lying on the exam table to get a sono done- to get a glimpse of their flesh and blood, the nose that’s like theirs or the little fingers clasping and unclasping. I think of their faces- the tired, yet deep assurance of their decision on them. I think of myself, lost in these fluorescent lit corridors, incessantly trying to prove myself, day after day, test after test, deeply unsettled, anxious to the core, rest and satisfaction beyond me. the existential panic hits me like a wave. I realize no amount of-‘this is the best feeling in the world’ propaganda will convince me to bear a child. I think of how that smile may never adorn my face; a life of despair, the guilt of not fulfilling the only inherent ‘purpose’ of human life, a void, an empty house full of the disease-ridden pages of medical texts and manuscripts flash by before my eyes, as I drift into an exhausted sleep.