Unpopular opinion: Plath is talented but overrated.

Sylvia Plath is widely regarded as a highly talented poet, and there is no denying her unique writing style and the emotional depth she was able to convey in her works. However, I believe that she has been somewhat overrated.

While her poems are undoubtedly powerful and moving, they also have their limitations. Some of her work can seem overly self-absorbed and introspective, lacking in a broader perspective or a connection to the outside world.

Additionally, her reputation has been somewhat inflated by her tragic personal life, which has overshadowed the actual quality of her poetry in some cases. It is important to evaluate her work on its own merits, rather than simply because of the circumstances surrounding her death.

In conclusion, while Plath was indeed a talented poet, I believe that her reputation has been blown out of proportion, and that we should view her work with a more critical eye.

2.5 - Just in time for my 100th of the year :')))

It's quite a remarkable moment as I reach this milestone. The time seems to have flown by, and yet, here I am, celebrating my 100th something.

My faves list is quite diverse. There's "the applicant," which holds a special charm. "Lady Lazarus (2)" is another one that catches my attention with its unique qualities. "Cut" and "Elm" add a touch of mystery and depth. "Poppies in October" brings a beautiful and poignant image to mind. "Getting there (2)" gives a sense of progress and journey. "The moon and the yew tree" creates an enchanting atmosphere. And "a birthday present (2) (3)" holds a special significance, perhaps a memory or a precious gift.

These faves are like little treasures that I've collected along the way, adding color and meaning to my 100th of the year.

The poems in this collection are truly seething and unyielding.

Plath's masterful use of color is absolutely fascinating to me. When I read these sparkling, corrosive poems aloud, it feels as if my tongue and ear are engaged in a lively dance.

However, to be completely honest, I discovered that a significant number of them were impenetrable without conducting research. I simply had no clue about what was happening within the lines, and as a result, I couldn't remember most of them after turning the page.

Of course, there are some notable exceptions like "Lady Lazarus," which managed to make a lasting impression.

Now, I am left with a plethora of internal questions regarding the role of biography, intention, and the crucial aspect of writer/reader communication in the realm of poetry.

How much does the poet's life story influence our understanding of the poem? What was the poet's true intention when penning these words? And how can we, as readers, bridge the gap and truly connect with the poet's message?

These are the questions that continue to swirl in my mind as I reflect on this collection of poems.

Since around 1980, I have likely read Ariel six times. And once again, as I step back from it, I think, "My God!" It still remains for me the most powerful collection of poetry I've ever read. However, perhaps I should strike that word "remains" as my previous readings left me in awe of numerous poems within the collection. But with this new edition, for the first time, I am reading Plath's arrangement, which significantly elevates things.

I have no stake in the Hughes/Plath wars. He cheated on her; she was high maintenance. As an outsider, it's impossible to know much more than that surface story. On the poetry front, I've always believed that Hughes, a superb poet with his violent and powerful imagery (as seen in Crow), aided in Plath's growth as a poet. And being the intelligent girl she was, she wouldn't be outdone in savage imagery, especially when Hughes, through his adultery, provided her with a red-hot core of poetic purpose.

Frieda Hughes, the couple's daughter, clearly states in her indispensable Introduction that Ariel is an act of revenge. This is a difficult and sensitive subject for Frieda as she loved both her father and mother. She does attempt to recycle, though not necessarily agree with, the old Hughes argument that the earlier arrangement was for Art's sake. That's not the case at all. While a few poems could have been dropped as weak (like "Barren Woman" and "Magi"), overall the restored poems are very strong. Moreover, their placement matters. If Plath's collection was an act of literary revenge, Hughes' editing was also an act of literary violence. He deliberately muddled the waters, blurring the overall impact of the collection. This is evident at both the beginning and end of the collection. The new edition follows an arc that, with all its ferocious savagery, strangely becomes transcendent with the last grouping of poems, ending with "Wintering." In the earlier edition, Hughes had these poems in sequence but then added a random grab bag of poems that robbed the reader of the sense of closure Plath's arrangement provides.

But it's the beginning that truly shocked me. The omission of "The Rabbit Catcher," a very strong poem that must have burned Hughes' ears, is where the violence to Plath's purpose is most blatant. It's a key poem as it establishes a foundation for the recurring accusatory poems like "A Secret," "The Jailer," "Daddy," and others. These poems are part of an intended tapestry. I have no doubt that this restored version of Ariel will now be the one studied, argued over, and so on. Hughes' deceptive version will also be studied, but it will now exist as a footnote. It's a testament to the power of Plath's poems that Ariel can exist in both forms, but there's no doubt which is the better version.

I re-read this in tandem with reading Heather Clark's fantastic biography, Red Comet. This is an extraordinary collection. It is quite different from what I remember from my first read. Likely, this is because I was young and the collection was the Hughes edited version that left out some of her most searing words, such as \\"Rabbit Catcher\\" and \\"The Jailor\\".

This collection was written in a white heat toward the end of her life after Hughes had left her. Yes, some of it is a big 'ole \\"fuck you\\" to Hughes. However, that doesn't take away from the genius of the words behind the fuck you. And, apart from those poems, there are others on motherhood, madness, and so on that are brilliant.

\\"Tulips\\" gutted me. It is a powerful and moving poem that touches on themes of life, death, and the human condition. The imagery and language used in the poem are truly remarkable and leave a lasting impression on the reader. Overall, this collection is a must-read for anyone interested in the works of Sylvia Plath.

Maybe when I first read Ariel, the originally published, Ted Hughes edition of the poems, I was too young to fully appreciate Plath's stunning vision.

However, upon my recent reading of the work, I'm inclined to think that her own layout of her swansong collection was the decisive factor that blew me away.

So much substance - the words 'dark matter' come to mind - from a poet so young. It's truly rare and humbling. As a Greek, I can't help but think of Karyotakis's last collection. Yet, Plath is a clearly separate case, as self-destruction was to her more of a precise art, almost a science.

I wholeheartedly urge readers, whether they are familiar with Plath or not, to give the Restored Edition a try. This book has brought considerable beauty into my life. It's one of those reads that leaves a lingering feeling of profound gratitude.

It's as if Plath's words have the power to touch the deepest recesses of our souls and make us see the world in a whole new light.

Don't miss out on this remarkable literary experience.

I have always intended to read a book about Sylvia Plath's life and learn about the entire Ted Hughes adventure. However, there is something within me that doesn't like that kind of voyeurism, and to this day, I have avoided it. Nevertheless, I think Plath's poetry is so intensely personal that it would make sense to read it while knowing more about the story of the American poet who took her own life on a bleak winter's day in the year I was born.

This "reinstatement" of Plath's *Ariel* has a foreword by Frieda Hughes, her daughter. It is a touching and interesting introduction to the poems and the significance of a life as seen through her daughter's eyes. Frieda makes some interesting comments about the nature of art, poetry, and the artist, as well as other collective creations. The most interesting point is how we like to pretend we "know" an artist through their poetry, but often, it works the other way around, and the artist becomes a shadow we think is filled out by their poems. My favorite example of this is Beethoven, who wrote the fourth and fifth symphonies simultaneously. If they were a reflection of his mood at the time, then clearly he suffered from some kind of multiple personality disorder.

This collection of poems contains some of Plath's most disturbing and confronting works. For example, "Daddy" and "Lady Lazarus" are terribly difficult poems to read, even though they may be the easiest to understand in this collection. They are raw yet crafted at the same time. Plath, more than any other poet, should be read aloud. These poems work as music, and getting the music of the poems right is an important part of "getting" the poems.

The book also includes a series of "Facsimile drafts of the poem 'Ariel,'" with eleven versions of the poem reprinted here. There is a terrible misconception among those who don't know much about poetry that a great poet can simply write a poem in one go and have it be complete and perfect. This is rarely the case. A writer only becomes a writer when they understand that the creative process is iterative. It is also important to note that if she spent so much time writing the poem, it might be worth spending a proportionate amount of time reading it.

Before we conclude, I want to quote Plath's "Tulips." One night during my high school years, I was staying at a friend's house, doing homework and smoking cigarettes. We had a poem to read for English the next day, which was Plath's "Tulips." It was insanely difficult, far more difficult than what two 16-year-old boys (or thereabouts) could reasonably be expected to read and understand. We were science nerds, and poetry was too otherworldly for us. Nevertheless, I was madly in love with my English teacher and was keen to impress by understanding the poem.

I remember we started reading it and couldn't make any sense of it at all. So, we stopped and went through it line by line, discussing what each line could mean. It was a slog, but suddenly, we began to get a sense of the woman in the poem being in the hospital and then all that blood. I have read this poem hundreds of times since that night. About ten years ago, I decided that it should be read in a similar voice to these lines from T.S. Eliot: "My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'" You know, neurotic. But I now think that is a wrong reading of the poem. I think the correct reading (at least for now) is in a quite straight and calm voice, with a hint of perplexity in the tone, just enough to be detectable and no more. Much like how Maggie Smith performs "Love Among the Lentils" by Alan Bennett.

If I were to give advice on approaching this poem for the first time, obviously, you need to pay close attention to the relationship between the woman in the poem and the "others" in the poem, including all the others, not just the tulips themselves. But also the nurses, the nuns, and those who are implied to be there even if they never actually are. And then, how often red and white are contrasted and how red on white is so often associated with blood in our culture and in this poem. And of course, water and all the things that water can signify.
I love how an act of love by someone (in sending tulips) can become like a series of hooks dug into the flesh of the person they are sent to. I love how peacefulness previously meant avoiding being noticed and becoming white, and then the sudden redness of the tulips disrupts all that. How they stop being inanimate and become like wild animals that need to be put behind bars. I love how the tulips become a projection of this woman's incredibly complex relationship with her husband and children. "They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations," and look at that word "associations" – what a terribly important word it is. For that is what the tulips do not allow her – to remain clear of her associations.
This is a complex poem that requires a careful study of the imagery and, most importantly, a feeling for the music of the words on the page. It is, and has been for a very long time, one of my very favorite poems.
Bird Brian has started a page here http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2... of reviewers reading their reviews. This is my effort: http://soundcloud.com/tremcc/audio-re...

A reread for me, as I had a strong desire to peruse a new book of poetry that is in dialogue with this particular one. This edition contains some facsimiles in the back of Sylvia's drafts, along with some original versions that were, of course, edited by her husband.

Lady Lazarus remains one of my all-time favorite poems. The final stanza, if one can use that term for a poem, is truly captivating:

"Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air."

It's as if Sylvia Plath is able to transport us into a world of her own creation with these powerful words. The imagery of rising from the ash and the bold statement of "eating men like air" leaves a lasting impression. This poem continues to resonate with me on each reading, revealing new layers of meaning and emotion. I can't wait to explore the new book of poetry and see how it relates to this remarkable work by Sylvia Plath.

No rating has been given. However, it should be noted that some of the poems were truly very good. The world and the fandom that have emerged around Sylvia Plath are rather disconcerting. They make me feel uneasy and also fill me with a sense of sadness.

The parts of the work that I found myself most strongly connected to were her daughter's words at the beginning and end. These words seemed to offer a unique perspective and a personal touch that added an extra layer of depth to the overall experience.

Perhaps it is the combination of the powerful poetry and the complex emotions and circumstances surrounding Plath that make this exploration both fascinating and somewhat disturbing. It leaves one with a lot to思考 and reflect upon.

Esta ha sido una lectura dolorosa.

I was drawn to the book by the play "The Girl Who Wanted to Be God" by Matacandelas. And the first thing I encountered, in the preface words of Frieda Hughes, was an infinite weariness expressed with anger towards those who turned her mother's death into a golden calf. For her, as a poetry reader and as a daughter, the figure of Sylvia Plath is much more than the fateful day of the gas key.

Thus, Hughes presents the restored edition of Ariel as an incredible book, yes, but sadly clouded by its symbolic status as an artistic testament. Her mother, she tells us, was indeed this delirium and this fury, and yes, it was the sadness that led her to leave the world; but she was also many other things, and it is the reader's duty to have the necessary intelligence to separate the suicide from the work and allow oneself to be open to reading it from its multiple nuances of humanity.

However, this is a titanic task. Reading Ariel without thinking about the desk on which it was found, on that second floor under which a woman seals the gaps of the doors with rags to be able to suffocate herself, is difficult. In a way, the decision to die has impregnated these pages, whose intrinsic darkness makes them more than adequate receptors for that translation between life and work.

These poems are a display of anger and pain. They sound, on many occasions, like the curse of the condemned to their executioners, expressed at the same time with rancor and laughter. Verses like:

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating. (73)

*

Si la luna sonriera, se parecería a ti.
También tu dejas esa impresión
De algo hermoso, pero aniquilador.

Contain all the tension of a spirit divided between submission and rebellion, and it takes a huge effort to try to forget that the author of "Lady Lazarus" ended her life by her own hand in the kitchen of her house:

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you can say I've a call. (15)

*

Morir
Es un arte, como todo lo demás.
Yo lo hago excepcionalmente bien.

Lo hago de modo que se sienta infernal.
Lo hago de modo que se sienta real.
Supongo podrían decir que tengo vocación.

However, whether succeeding or failing in Hughes' request, the poems carry an incredible dramatic force. I already said that it is divided between hate and laughter, we could also say that it is divided between pain and joy. The first, imposed by the world. The second, arising from the intimate certainty of being able, at least during the instant of writing, to tell the world to go to hell.

Such is the vocation of writing. That, we can say, Plath felt in every nerve.

Intense and merciless, the words are wielded like a sword. It's dark up there, in there, with the howling screams of despair and the whipping lashes of acidic rage.

Well, what do you think of that? Naked as paper to start, but in twenty-five years she'll be silver, in fifty, gold. A living doll, everywhere you look. It can sew, it can cook, it can talk, talk, talk. Will you marry it, marry it, marry it?

I am myself. That is not enough. My ribs show. What have I eaten? Lies and smiles. Surely the sky is not that color, surely the grass should be rippling.

Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.

What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful? It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges? I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way. Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains. Can you not give it to me? Do not be ashamed — I do not mind if it is small. If you only knew how the veils were killing my days. To you they are only transparencies, clear air. But my god, the clouds are like cotton. Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide. Is it impossible for you to let something go and have it go whole? Must you stamp each piece purple, must you kill what you can?

Other rawest favorite poems include The Couriers, The Rabbit Catcher, Tulips, Ariel, The Courage of Shutting-Up, Medusa, Daddy. These poems explore the depths of human emotions, from despair and rage to the search for identity and meaning. They are powerful and thought-provoking, leaving a lasting impact on the reader.

A Birthday Present

On my birthday, I received a very special present. It was a beautiful statue of Medusa. The details on the statue were so精致 that it seemed as if Medusa herself had come to life. The snake hair, the fierce expression on her face, and the intricate design of her body all made it a truly remarkable piece.

Medusa

Medusa is a well-known figure in Greek mythology. She was a Gorgon with snakes for hair and the power to turn people to stone with just a glance. The story of Medusa has fascinated people for centuries, and this statue captured her essence perfectly.

The Bee Meeting

After receiving the present, I went to a bee meeting. It was a gathering of beekeepers and enthusiasts who came together to share their knowledge and experiences. I learned a lot about bees and their importance in our ecosystem. It was a very interesting and informative event.

Conclusion

Overall, it was a wonderful birthday. I received a great present and had the opportunity to learn something new at the bee meeting. I will always cherish this special day.