Most people are prone to forget that Plath initiated her career by penning short stories. The very first one was published in 1952 after she triumphed in a contest organized by Mademoiselle magazine. The notion that her stories were of lesser quality compared to the poetry for which she gained renown is strengthened by many, including her former husband and editor, Ted Hughes. In his introduction to this volume, he attempts to depict them as mediocre and far from the supposed zenith of her talents in Ariel. However, Hughes' heavy-handed editorial approach is one of the few elements that add a bitter note to this otherwise delightful (albeit uneven) sampling of Plath's prose works. He even arranges the stories under the condescending labels of "The more successful short stories and prose pieces" and "other stories," and manages to emphasize works that contribute to the image of her as the lacking daughter and the jealous housewife above all else.

Nevertheless, Plath's genius manages to shine through. The title story of Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams is a captivating tale that, in my view, far exceeds the intensity of The Bell Jar despite its relative brevity. I also found myself completely engrossed in the magnificent composition and the compelling ideas behind pieces such as "The Wishing Box," "Ocean 1212-W," "A Comparison," "Context," and "Initiation." "Snow Blitz" amused me as it involves Plath writing about London in the same way that famous Londoners (and westerners in general) are known to write about the so-called third world. I liked the short essays "A Comparison" and "Context" for presenting pleasing examples of her political and poetic sensibilities.

The edition I am reading also includes excerpts from Plath's journals and several stories discovered among her papers in the Lily Library in Indiana. Although I was not inclined to revisit many of the journal entries, as beautiful as I recall them to have been, I did notice how several of these directly formed the experiential foundation on which Plath seems to have based some of her finest writing (including the poem, "Lady Lazarus"). I was also touched by the stories "The Lady Mangada," "The Shadow," and "Sweetie Pie and the Gutter Men," where her ideas on war, womanhood, pregnancy, and other themes are strikingly and artfully explicit.

There were some stories that I couldn't fully understand, but that is to be expected in any collection. The remarkable aspect of this volume—and why it isn't, as Margaret Atwood calls it, "a minor work by a major poet"—is how clearly it reflects her thoughtful command of words and emotions, and her ability to distill them into breathtaking imagery. These stories are not mere ephemeral works, but rather glimpses into her brilliant talents at play, and should be regarded as an essential part of the building blocks that contribute to her towering reputation, just like anything else.

Most short story collections consist of a mix of truly outstanding stories and some rather lackluster ones. However, this particular collection was uniformly excellent. There wasn't a single story here that I felt inclined to skip or that made me think, "I wish this would end." Perhaps I'm simply a die-hard Sylvia Plath fanboy, but I firmly believe it was exceptionally good.

Obviously, these stories weren't originally written to be published together. As a result, you can observe some overlap within the stories themselves and with 'The Bell Jar', which I had just re-read for the third time earlier this month. Between the two books, I estimate that I heard the story of Sylvia sneaking into a hospital to witness a woman giving birth approximately four times. The majority (almost all) of her fiction is based on her real-life experiences, with the names changed around. Sometimes I view this as a criticism, while at other times I don't. I find her to be such a captivating individual that obtaining these personal insights into her thoughts, disguised as fiction, is truly fascinating to me. It does give me the impression that perhaps she wasn't the most imaginative of writers, but being imaginative isn't a prerequisite for being a great writer. Her talent lies in transforming real stories into art.

Some of my favorite stories include: 'The Day Mr Prescott Died', 'The Daughters of Blossom Street', 'Mothers' - She uses the name Esther again, which made this story feel like a sequel to 'The Bell Jar'. That name alone really evoked some powerful emotions in me. 'Snow Blitz', 'Day of Success' - This story seemed like a means for Sylvia to explore some very real feelings she was having about Ted, but with a happy ending for herself. Sadly, her fears expressed in this story about a cheating husband would later come true. 'Among the Bumblebees' - Out of all the stories that mention her father, this one was the most poignant and heartfelt. It reveals how she coped with his early illness and death as a child. 'Tongues of Stone', 'Sweetie Pie and the Gutter Men'.

Although I probably won't re-read the entire collection from start to finish anytime soon, I would be more than happy to re-read any of the stories within it. The only thing I skipped was a redraft of 'Widow Manganda'. She wrote the original in summer and the redraft in autumn. They weren't significantly different enough from the first couple of pages to compel me to read them in close succession, so I will definitely return to the autumn draft at some point. I truly love everything that Plath writes, and my next major endeavor will likely be her letters, which is a massive project!

I began and concluded this extensive collection of short stories with the eponymous tale, Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams, which is ultimately one of my all-time favorite short stories. Describing it in mere words is rather nebulous. Words alone are insufficient. You require a great deal of feeling, thought, and passion, above all, passion. All of Plath's masterful penmanship comes alive in this story: the use of language, the envelopment of a world of dreams, its connection to all that is real, and the underlying truth. Having to explain the story to someone who hasn't read it is an overly burdensome task for just me.

Accompanying the title story is a diverse selection of short stories chosen by Plath's widow. Well, it's fair to say that all story collections will inevitably have some stronger and some less impressive entries. This collection, for some reason, just seems a bit disjointed. Unfortunately, when so many stories are bound within the same covers, there is too much space for the weaker ones. The deduction of one star is solely due to the fact that this is truly a bible of short stories.

Here are just a few of my favorites from this collection:

The day Mr. Prescott died - A story that simmers with the atmosphere of death.

The daughters of Blossom Street - Deeply moving.

Snow blitz - Oh, the beauty of England!

Sunday at the Minton's - Brilliantly constructed, you can anticipate what's coming from a distance but you can't look away - just as it should be.

Superman and Paula Brown's new snowsuit - Emotional, offering a vivid glimpse into a child's life.

Day of success - A feel-good story that left me smiling contentedly in the end.

Widow Mangda - Moving, almost epic. A masterful weaving of a plot that reveals the holiest of all, the truth at the conclusion.

Among the bumblebees - Almost heartbreaking in its emotion.

Tongues of Stone - Shares many similar elements with Johnny Panic, haunting and captivating.

The Shadow - Reads like a journal, very realistic.

A situation from Johnny Panic: "--mutta minä kaipaan todellisen asiantuntijan arvokasta joutilaisuutta, aikaa lepuuttaa sieraimia tunnin ajan konjakkilasin yllä ennen kuin kieli ojentuu kohti ensimmäistä siemausta."

All the things I couldn't share

Because I wasn't there -

The final revelation,

The twist in the tail.

In the Southern Gothic story

Told by the fire

The red embers glowing bright,

The rope creaks

Under the dead weight

Of the body in the attic.

So many 'presences'

Waiting for their story to be told

And so little time to tell it.

The man with the nagging wife -

How did he survive

All those years

With a mad daughter

And two dead sons - one born with his

Tongue in wrong?

'All the Dead Dears' -

You have gone to join them.

As I recall your face

I turn the pages in the book

And Blixa and co let rip,

Industrial noise forged in the furnace

Of your tortured German soul.

Like alien driftwood you

Washed up on an ocean of stars

And then we drifted apart

And cancer took you in the end.

My scissor legs

Cut through the thread

Of my life -

A non sequitur

The author seems to be expressing a sense of loss and mystery. There are things that couldn't be shared, perhaps due to absence. The Southern Gothic story told by the fire adds an element of spookiness with the creaking rope and the body in the attic. The man's difficult life with a nagging wife, a mad daughter, and two dead sons is a source of wonder. The mention of 'All the Dead Dears' and the person who has gone to join them brings a feeling of sadness. The industrial noise and the tortured German soul add an interesting and perhaps disturbing dimension. The image of the person washing up like alien driftwood on an ocean of stars and then drifting apart is both beautiful and melancholy. Finally, the reference to the scissor legs cutting through the thread of life as a non sequitur leaves the reader with a sense of confusion and thought.

I have an intense love for the title story; it stands as by far my absolute favorite. I just adore the sensation of feeling as if I'm quietly tagging along beside her while she is engaged in her work within the medical office. Her words seem to effortlessly roll off the page here, and I can vividly sense all the arduous effort she invested in making her descriptions flawless. I also experience a profound sense of envy, as I truly wish that I had penned the story myself, given how achingly real her depictions of her waking life are.

Next in line, I hold a great admiration for 'The Comparison' due to its concise yet incisive description of the differences between a novel and a poem. Among all the stories compiled within this collection, I find myself going back and rereading this one the most frequently.

'Context' sort of falls into a similar category as 'The Comparison' for me. However, once again, I do return to this barely-more-than-one-page rumination on numerous occasions.

I thoroughly enjoy all the short stories that give the impression of being genuine anecdotes from her childhood and adolescence, which, of course, they are. Prominently among these, I have a particular preference for 'The Daughters of Blossom Street', 'Ocean 1212-W', and 'Snow Blitz'. Part 2: Other Stories continues with more of these childhood-centric remembrances.

Lastly, Parts 3 and 4 present a slightly different narrative; I consciously tend to shy away from them, as we are all aware of how her story concludes. I truly feel her reaching out in these stories, and at times when I read them, all I can envision is the perfectionistic writer pounding her heart out in an attempt to mold her life into beautiful prose.

More than any of her other books, I discover that this one is the easiest to pick up and read time and time again.

The unnamed narrator is a young assistant in a hospital's psychology clinic.

Her job entails recording the dreams of various patients. Additionally, she is penning a book of her own, titled "The Bible of Dreams", in which she documents the recurring dreams of both old and new patients.

I'm not overly impressed by the story per se. It was truly strange. However, Sylvia Plath's language is simply captivating.

Her words have a certain allure that draws the reader in and makes them want to keep reading. It's as if she has a magical way with words that can transport the reader to another world.

Even though the story might be a bit odd, Plath's language more than makes up for it. It adds depth and complexity to the narrative, making it a truly unique and unforgettable reading experience.

Overall, while the story may not be everyone's cup of tea, Sylvia Plath's language is definitely something to be admired and cherished.

**Title: 2.5 Stars**

In the world of reviews and ratings, 2.5 stars is an interesting and somewhat ambiguous score. It doesn't quite reach the level of a full 3 stars, which is often considered a solid average or satisfactory rating. However, it's also not as low as a 2-star rating, which might imply significant shortcomings or disappointments.

A 2.5-star rating could suggest that a product, service, or experience has some redeeming qualities, but also has areas that need improvement. It might have met some of the expectations, but fell short in others. For example, a restaurant with a 2.5-star rating might have good food, but slow service or an unappealing atmosphere.

On the other hand, a 2.5-star rating could also be a matter of personal preference. What one person considers a 3-star experience might be a 2.5-star experience for another, depending on their individual expectations and priorities.

In conclusion, while 2.5 stars may not be the most glowing of ratings, it's not necessarily a bad one either. It simply indicates that there is room for improvement and that the product, service, or experience has both positive and negative aspects.

Sylvia, as haunting as ever, continues to have an impact on me.

Even when presented in short installments, her presence reaches out to me in unfathomable ways.

It's as if she has a hold on my thoughts and emotions that I can't quite explain.

Her words, her actions, and her very essence seem to seep into my consciousness, leaving an indelible mark.

Each encounter with her, no matter how brief, is like a brushstroke on a canvas, adding to the complex and beautiful picture that is my connection with her.

And although I may not fully understand the depth of her influence, I know that she has become an important part of my life, a presence that I can't ignore or forget.

Ugh, Sylvia! I could now swear at you for making me suffer throughout the whole collection.

However, I prefer to thank you for taking me along the fascinating journey into your complex and intelligent mind.

The selection offers some of the earliest stories, notebook thoughts, and essays of Sylvia Plath. As mentioned in the introduction, it describes the writer's inability to find a balance between objective and subjective perspectives of writing.

If you consider reading this one, make sure you're ready for the book. It's not something you'll probably like. The book just illustrates Sylvia's journey of becoming the author of such an incredible masterpiece as The Bell Jar.

It shows the struggles and growth she went through, which is both captivating and at times, a bit overwhelming. But that's what makes Sylvia Plath's work so unique and值得 exploring.

You'll be drawn into her world, experiencing her emotions and thoughts, and perhaps gain a deeper understanding of her as a writer and a person.

So, if you're up for a challenging yet rewarding read, give this collection a try.

Reviewing this collection of posthumously published ephemera in 1979, Margaret Atwood called Johnny Panic "a minor work by a major writer." Unfortunately, this perception has endured for nearly thirty years. It has led to the rather unfortunate conclusion that Plath was not entirely successful in her short story endeavors. However, this presumption does a great disservice to the stories in this collection. By any standard other than the remarkable achievements of Plath's own poetry, these stories are accomplished, diverse, experimental, and captivating.

We should remember that Plath began her career as a storywriter, winning the Mademoiselle creative writing contest in the early 50s with "Sunday at the Mintons." While only a contrarian would claim that these stories equal her poetry, a valid argument can be made. If we can accept The Bell Jar as a classic coming-of-age novel, then we should make room for Plath in the short-story canon.

To achieve this, however, would require a reinvention of this collection (which differs from the 1977 British edition). Firstly, Ted Hughes' introduction should be removed. It doesn't hold back when telling readers that what they are about to explore is mediocre. In the 70s, with the rush to market of Plathiana, such an argument might have been necessary for the sake of her reputation. But now that she is an undisputed major figure, it's time to let the stories stand on their own merits rather than compete with her other works.

Secondly, the book needs to be reorganized. The original British version presented the stories chronologically, while this version presents them in reverse chronological order. In either case, readers are encouraged to consider the fiction within the context of Plath's career and biography, which already dominate assessments of her. I would suggest a thematic organization (such as Marriage, Motherhood, Family - Dreams and Visions - Life and Death in America, etc.). This way, a strong effort like "Tongues of Stone" can stand independently instead of being seen as a precursor to Jar, and a genre exercise like "All the Dead Dears" can be read formally.

Finally, the diary passages excerpted here are redundant since the publication of Plath's journals. Their presence only undermines the autonomy of her stories. The same goes for the scattered journalism, which would be more appropriately placed as an appendix to the journals.

Until something along these lines occurs, I doubt Johnny Panic will ever rise above its "minor" status, which would be unfortunate. The title story is brilliant, at least half a dozen entries here are excellent (especially "The Wishing Box"), and even the weaker ones have some thematic relevance to Plath's trademark issues of creativity, domesticity, and emotional discontent. They deserve a more just reading than they have received so far.

I wanted to read this book for two reasons - I love the poet Sylvia Plath and I love the translator Nadezhda Radulova.

I avoid short stories, they are not my favorite genre, but there is no way to know an author well without knowing the different stages of his creativity, the time in which he was creating, his life, so "Johnny Panic..." was a necessary step for me.

I was very skeptical at the beginning. I laughed hard, it was a bit nerve-wracking for me, frankly I didn't like Plath's early style. All the time I was remembering some passages from her diaries, I had a permanent feeling of deja-vu. I think that Hughes' selection additionally presents the writer as very ambitious, but not very talented. Let's say that this is a personal feeling.

Then I started to find authentic "pieces" of Sylvia, she began to grow, to shine through the censoring hand of her "editor". To see excerpts from her notebooks in translation was a great pleasure. Words, images from Plath's poetry danced on the pages - the horrible babies, the cracking nurseries, the moon like an O, the red fur coat, the mirrors - this is her area, here she is closest to herself. I am not a fan of her prose, but I appreciate how important it is. There would be no "Ariel" without these attempts.

I often find myself grappling with the ethics of reading posthumously published works, particularly when the author had dealt with mental illness. It's a complex issue. On one hand, there's the concern of exploitative commercialization. Publishers might be eager to cash in on an author's name, potentially without fully considering the implications for the author's legacy. On the other hand, there are readers like me who simply want to engage with the limited resources left behind by a brilliant mind. We want to understand the author's thoughts, feelings, and experiences, even if they were in a state of turmoil.

Sylvia Plath's "Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams: Short Stories, Prose and Diary Excerpts" is a collection that falls into this ethical gray area. While it may not be as refined as "The Bell Jar," it is quintessentially Plath. Her internal struggles are palpable and laid bare on the page. The characters can be cruel, and their actions can be confounding. The entire collection constantly reminded me of Jim Morrison's lyrics, "People are strange when you're a stranger, Faces look ugly when you're alone."
In the titular story, the reality of Plath's deteriorating mental state is revealed in a dreamlike fashion, as the narrative delves into the horrors of electroshock "therapy." Only the surreal can accurately convey pain that is too cruel to describe otherwise. These stories were likely all influenced by the various "treatments" Plath received, if not by her deteriorating condition itself. This could explain the lack of polish but also the poignancy of the collection.
Overall, I would still recommend "The Bell Jar" to those new to Plath. However, if you have a strong desire to explore more of her mind, then this collection is a solid choice.
Rating: 3.5 stars