It’s less about Sylvia Plath / Ted Hughes and more about who has the right to tell which story and the ethics of it all.

This is a thought-provoking concept that delves deeper into the nature of storytelling and the responsibilities that come with it.

When we consider a story, we often focus on the characters and the events that unfold. However, the question of who gets to tell that story and how they tell it is equally important.

There are ethical considerations involved in deciding who has the authority to share a particular narrative.

Is it the person directly involved? Or perhaps an outside observer with a different perspective?

The way a story is told can also have a significant impact on how it is received and understood.

Details can be emphasized or omitted, and the tone can influence the reader’s perception.

This makes it crucial to approach storytelling with care and integrity.

The article that explores this idea is extremely readable and captivating.

It engages the reader and encourages them to think about the complex issues surrounding the right to tell a story and the ethics involved.

By examining these aspects, we can gain a deeper understanding of the power and responsibility of storytelling.

This book is extremely and unjustly biased against Sylvia Plath as a person right from the start. The writer blatantly shows her excessive love for Ted Hughes to the extent of being a fangirl. She dedicates an entire page to criticizing someone for stating that he didn't find Sylvia attractive and then, in the very next paragraph, reveals to the reader that she herself doesn't think Sylvia was attractive either.

Strangely, the writer is quite nonchalant about the huge amount of bad behaviors and questionable life events of Ted Hughes. Instead of having suspicion and horror when two wives in a row commit suicide and the next one is two decades his junior, she feels sympathy for him.

This book has managed to convince me that Ted Hughes is a creepy person while at the same time making it abundantly clear that the author truly adores Ted Hughes.

It is truly shameful how the author presents this one-sided and unfair view, completely overlooking the possible pain and suffering that Sylvia Plath might have endured.

I found Janet Malcolm's non-biography/biography on the Plath/Hughes estate battles extremely gripping. I was so engrossed that I finished it in just two sittings.

Admittedly, it wasn't the book I had anticipated. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting. However, it was a very intimate, fast-paced, and biting read.

Malcolm admits several times that she leans towards the Hughes "side" of the drama. This makes sense as she is cleverly avoiding the trappings of conventional biographical strictures with this book. Nevertheless, she casts a shrewd and often unkind eye on all the players in this mythology.

Malcolm's general premise is that biographers are vultures or identity-scavengers if you strip away the academic and scholarly niceties. Biography as a genre tries to reduce the beautiful and the damned to their most basic and relatable parts. People either want to see that "Celebs! They're just like us!" or "Celebs! They're monstrous abortions of human decency!" Malcolm attempts to convey this in the book, which is why she aligns with the Hughes family, who have been notoriously difficult to deal with in biographical works about Plath.

Do I think biographies are all bad, as Malcolm seems to? No. Do I agree that they necessarily play on the reader's hidden or admitted voyeurism? Sure. But biographies can also provide powerful insights into historical moments. This is, in fact, why I'm so drawn to the genre. I was once a minor history buff in high school but realized I wasn't cut out for it. Instead, I decided to focus on my strengths and real passions in literature. For me, biography is a way to connect with history through a palatable entry point - a person or figure that makes the abstractions of history concrete and brings that abyss of moments and experiences to life.

The foundations of the book make sense to me, even when I deviate from Malcolm's path. And indeed, the drama reads as well as any fiction. There are all the main players: the evasive Bluebeard figure (Teddy boy), the wicked crone (Olwyn), the disoriented octogenarian (Professor Thomas), both the neurotic and the wily academic (Anne Stevenson and Jacqueline Rose, respectively), and many others. It's all a high tragedy ostensibly staged to dispel the high tragedy that has surrounded Plath and her circles since that chilly February morning in 1963.

At any rate, it's an invaluable tool for anyone interested in Plath, Hughes, or the post-mortem drama between them and the reading public, as well as critics. It's also a fascinating meta-narrative on biography that should be interesting to basically any curious reader. Highly recommended.

Gorgeous, elegant, and highly motivated, Sylvia Plath seemed to possess all the qualities necessary to achieve great things. However, it was during her time at Smith College, where she was both well-liked and academically proficient, that she made her first attempt on her life.

Plath first encountered poet Ted Hughes on February 25, 1956, at a party in Cambridge, England. In a 1961 BBC interview, Plath vividly described their meeting: “I happened to be at Cambridge. I was sent there by the [U.S.] government on a government grant. And I’d read some of Ted’s poems in this magazine and I was very impressed and I wanted to meet him. I went to this little celebration and that’s actually where we met…Then we saw a great deal of each other. Ted came back to Cambridge and suddenly we found ourselves getting married a few months later… We kept writing poems to each other. Then it just grew out of that, I guess, a feeling that we both were writing so much and having such a fine time doing it, we decided that this should keep on.”

The couple tied the knot on June 16, 1956, and honeymooned in Benidorm, Spain. The following year, Plath and Hughes relocated to Massachusetts, where she taught at her alma mater, Smith College.

Finding the time and energy to write while teaching was truly a challenge for her. By the end of 1959, after another move and extensive travel, the couple returned to London. Their first daughter, Frieda, was born on April 1st, 1960.

The next year, Plath suffered a miscarriage of their second child. It was later disclosed in a letter to her therapist that Plath wrote about Hughes physically assaulting her two days before the miscarriage. After six years of marriage, two children, and one miscarriage, Plath discovered that Hughes was having an affair. As their relationship was headed towards a breakup, she penned a poem called ‘Burning the Letters’: “I made a fire,” she said, “being tired / Of the white fists of old / Letters and their death rattle.” These letters, she implied, taunted her: “What did they know that I didn’t?”

During the gloomy winter of 1962 – 1963, Plath lived in a flat with her children, essentially functioning as a single parent to her baby son and toddler daughter. As is widely known, she died by gassing herself in her kitchen while her children slept soundly in a room.

The months between her discovery of Hughes’ affair and her death were surprisingly productive, and much of the poetry she created during this period was published posthumously. Janet Malcolm’s postmodern portrait of Sylvia Plath and her marriage to Ted Hughes delves into the life and suicide of the highly admired poet and writer, as well as the efforts of various biographers to tell the story of her complex existence.

Key characters in Malcolm’s narrative include biographer Anne Stevenson and Ted Hughes’s sister Olwyn Hughes.

The book also contains significant material on A. Alvarez, author of The Savage God (1972), a study of suicide that included the suicide of his friend Sylvia Plath.

This ground-breaking book also examines the ethically ambiguous role of the journalist and biographer, whom Malcolm mocks as “a professional burglar, breaking into a house, rifling through certain drawers . . . and triumphantly bearing his loot away.”

To say the least, I was deeply moved by this book.

The questions put forward in the passage merely emphasize the epistemological uncertainty that constantly haunts the reader of biography, autobiography, history, and journalism. In a nonfiction work, we seldom know the actual truth of what occurred.

The ideal of unmediated reporting is typically only accomplished in fiction, where the writer accurately reports on the happenings in his imagination. When James reports in The Golden Bowl that the Prince and Charlotte are sleeping together, we have no cause to question him or to speculate whether Maggie is "overreacting" to what she witnesses. James's report is genuine. The facts of imaginative literature are as solid as the stone that Dr. Johnson kicked.

We must always accept the novelist's, playwright's, and poet's word, just as we are almost always at liberty to doubt the biographer's, autobiographer's, or journalist's. In imaginative literature, we are restricted from considering alternative scenarios - there simply are none.

This highlights the significant difference between the certainty we can find in fictional works and the uncertainty that pervades nonfiction. It makes us realize that while we may strive for truth in nonfiction, it is often elusive, whereas in fiction, the author's imagination creates a world of its own with its own set of unassailable facts.

A truly remarkable literary investigation has emerged, one that effectively shatters the entire concept of biography. It is an endeavor that is both captivating and unforgettable. The work in question challenges the very foundations of how we perceive and understand the lives of others through the medium of biography. Janet Malcolm's contribution to this field is nothing short of extraordinary. Her writing is so engaging and thought-provoking that one would be eager to read her on just about any subject. Her insights and perspectives offer a fresh and unique take on literary investigations, making her a must-read for anyone interested in the genre.

An amazing study of Plath's biographies has emerged, and it is truly extremely interesting. Sylvia Plath is a renowned figure in the literary world, and her life and works have long intrigued scholars and enthusiasts alike. This study delves deep into the various aspects of her life, uncovering hidden details and providing new perspectives. It explores her early years, her struggles and triumphs, and her tragic end. Through this in-depth examination, we gain a better understanding of the woman behind the words and the forces that shaped her. The study not only sheds light on Plath's personal life but also offers valuable insights into her creative process and the themes that贯穿 her works. It is a captivating exploration that will surely appeal to anyone interested in literature, psychology, or the human condition.

I came to this book with a strong desire to know more about Sylvia Plath and perhaps Ted Hughes as well.

In the process of reading, I did manage to learn a bit more about Ted Hughes. However, when it comes to Plath herself, I gained almost nothing new.

Surprisingly, this book is actually a biography about biographical writing. Despite that, it was still an enjoyable read. In fact, I found it very much so.

But now, since it is clear that this book is not going to be of much help in my research, I will have to read the other biographies.

I hope to find the in-depth information and insights I am seeking about Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes in those other works.

It seems that my exploration into their lives and works is going to be a longer and more arduous journey than I initially thought.

Nevertheless, I am determined to continue and uncover the truth and essence of these two remarkable literary figures.

Truly, this biography is unlike any I've ever read.

It takes the reader on a remarkable journey through the life of the subject, presenting a vivid and detailed account that is both engaging and inspiring.

The author has done an excellent job of bringing the story to life, using a writing style that is accessible yet profound.

Each chapter is filled with interesting anecdotes and insights that offer a unique perspective on the subject's experiences and achievements.

What sets this biography apart is its ability to capture the essence of the person, not just the facts of their life.

It delves deep into their character, motivations, and values, providing a rich and multi-dimensional portrait.

Whether you're a fan of biographies or simply looking for an interesting read, this book is sure to captivate you from start to finish.

It's a must-read for anyone who wants to gain a deeper understanding of an extraordinary individual and the events that shaped their life.

A book dedicated to Ted Hughes. There is nothing more to add.

Ted Hughes was a renowned and influential poet. His works are filled with vivid imagery, powerful emotions, and a deep exploration of the human condition. This book, which is a tribute to him, likely contains a collection of his most notable poems or perhaps some new interpretations and analyses of his works.

By having a book dedicated solely to Ted Hughes, it allows readers to immerse themselves in his poetic world and gain a deeper understanding of his unique style and perspective. It serves as a celebration of his contributions to the field of literature and a way to keep his memory alive.

Whether you are a long-time fan of Ted Hughes or someone who is just discovering his works, this libro pro Ted Hughes is sure to offer something of value. It provides an opportunity to explore his poetry in greater depth and appreciate the beauty and significance of his words.

This is not a typical biography of Plath. Instead, it is an essay on the Hughes-Plath relationship while comparing other biographies of Sylvia Plath and reflecting on the way to write a biography.

Based on Sylvia Plath, it conducts a study on how a biography should be written, the mistakes, the successes, and the types of biographers that exist. The sources and works it cites for further reading are also interesting. If one knows nothing about Sylvia Plath, it may be a slow read, especially at the beginning. Perhaps it is more enjoyable with certain knowledge and not as a first introduction to Plath.

Although the author takes a stance within the Hughes-Plath confrontation (on the side of the Hughes), it does not prevent her from criticizing them at certain moments. Regarding the narration, it sometimes becomes slow when mentioning so many works, but it regains momentum towards the end of the book.

One of my favorite parts is at the end:

"All the people who sit down to write do not face a blank page but their own minds filled with details. The problem lies in getting rid of most of what is there, filling huge plastic bags of garbage with the confused jumble of things that have been gathering over the days, months, years of life and perception of things with the eyes, ears, and heart. The goal is to leave a space where a few ideas, images, and feelings can be arranged in such a way that a reader wants to stay among them for a while, rather than flee, as I had wanted to flee from Thomas's house. But this task of cleaning the house (of narrating) is not only laborious; it is dangerous. There is the danger of getting rid of the wrong things and keeping the wrong things; there is the danger of throwing away too many things and being left in a house that is too empty; there is the danger of throwing everything away. Once one starts throwing, it can be difficult to stop. Maybe it is better not to start doing it. Maybe it is better to keep everything, like Trevor Thomas, lest we be left with nothing. The fear I felt in Thomas's house is a cousin of the fear that the writer feels who cannot afford to start writing."

The Silent Woman: Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes
Janet Malcolm
Nonfiction/biography
5 Stars – Masterpiece

Janet Malcolm has an uncanny ability to pen books about writers and their works that are far more captivating and thought-provoking than the source material itself. Her first work I encountered, The Journalist and the Murder, was a remarkable piece of reporting. It delved into the lawsuit between Jeffrey MacDonald, a convicted murderer, and Joe McGinnis, the author of Fatal Vision. MacDonald sued McGinnis, alleging that the writer feigned friendship to extract information while hiding his belief in MacDonald's guilt. MacDonald, who likely is guilty but has professed innocence for decades, won the lawsuit. As Malcolm surely knows, nonfiction can be far more astonishing than fiction.

This leads us to The Silent Woman, a semi-biography of sorts. It's not a traditional biography of Sylvia Plath but rather a study of the biographies written about her. Malcolm's oeuvre often takes a meta approach, and this book is no exception. She details how the Plath estate, overseen by her husband Ted Hughes and his sister Olwyn, has fended off eager fans and academics for years. After Plath's suicide, her work quickly gained fame, and fans, academics, and writers became obsessed with her story. This inevitably led to a plethora of authorized and unauthorized biographies, typically portraying Plath as a genius American who endured the cold, corrupt European world, the abuse and infidelity of her husband, and the snobbery of England's elite. The Plath estate, however, claims that none of these biographies have captured the truth.

Enter Janet Malcolm. She doesn't attempt to write a definitive biography of Plath. Instead, she focuses on the feud between the Plath Estate and the writers who claimed to tell her story accurately. But Malcolm, being the brilliant writer she was (sadly, she passed away last year), takes the story beyond a simple feud and explores the metaphysical dilemmas within writing any biography. One such dilemma is the relativity of truth. The true nature of the relationship between Plath and Hughes is known only to them, and with one side having taken her own life, the other stories we get are at best only half-right.

Malcolm writes with the precision and care of a brain surgeon. Her sentences, diction, and turns of phrase are so original and unrivaled that I'm certain I could identify her work even if presented anonymously. She was a master, and her books and essays will undoubtedly be studied by writers for the next 100 years or more. This truth is absolute.