Plath was an excellent poet but is known to many for this largely autobiographical novel. The Bell Jar tells the story of a gifted young woman's mental breakdown beginning during a summer internship as a junior editor at a magazine in New York City in the early 1950s. The real Plath committed suicide in 1963 and left behind this scathingly sad, honest and perfectly- written book, which remains one of the best-told tales of a woman's descent into insanity.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Plath was an excellent poet but is known to many for this largely autobiographical novel. The Bell Jar tells the story of a gifted young woman's mental breakdown beginning during a summer internship as a junior editor at a magazine in New York City in the early 1950s. The real Plath committed suicide in 1963 and left behind this scathingly sad, honest and perfectly- written book, which remains one of the best-told tales of a woman's descent into insanity.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Sylvia Plath churned out her final poems at the remarkable rate of two or three a day, masterworks Robert Lowell describes as written by "hardly a person at all...but one of those super-real, hypnotic, great classical heroines." Even more remarkable, she wrote them during one of the coldest, snowiest winters (1962-63) Londoners have ever known. Snowbound, without central heating, she and her two children spent much of their time sniffling, coughing, or running temperatures (In "Fever 103°" she writes, "I have been flickering, off, on, off on. / The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss."). Pipes froze, lights failed, and candles were unobtainable.

As if these physical privations weren't enough, Plath was out in the cold in another sense--her husband, Ted Hughes, had left her for another woman earlier that year. Despite all this (or perhaps because of it), the Ariel poems dazzle with their lyricism, their surprising and vivid imagery, and their wit. Rather than confining herself to her bleak surroundings, Plath draws from a wide array of experience. In "Berck-Plage," for instance, clouds are "electrifyingly-coloured sherbets, scooped from the freeze." In "The Night Dances," the poet stands crib-side, revelling in her son's own brand of do-si-do: "Such pure leaps and spirals--Surely they travel / The world forever, I shall not entirely / Sit emptied of beauties, the gift / Of your small breath..."

Though at times they present the reader with hopelessness laid bare, these poems also teem with the brightest shards of a life, confounding those who merely look for the words of a gloomy, dispassionate suicide. Plath rose each morning in the final months of her life to "that still blue, almost eternal hour before the baby's cry" and left us these words like "axes/After whose stroke the wood rings..." --Martha Silano

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Plath's work entices you into her world..., 02 Apr 2007
This is not simply a book of poetry written by a female writer. This is real, and raw. The emotion evoked and shared between reader and poet is out of this world... we are let in to Plath's world and mind. Her fears, dreams, and desires.

I would recommend this collection of poetry to anyone.

I read this alongside Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar', her only novel, and it is quite amazing how the two link. The same ideas are mused over, truly showing 'The Bell jar' as an autobiography of her own life, reflected in the character Esther Greenwood.

The First Time's Always Best, 20 Mar 2007
This was the first poetry book I read. I knew that - after reading 'Bell Jar' - Sylvia Plath would be my favourite poet. These poems express her yearning and overall defeat. Each step is new, refreshing and it is not a saccharine read. Every element of this collection leaves you stunned and wanting to know more of Sylvia. Reading over, the poems start to form a story just as good as 'Bell Jar'. Love It
Highlights: Sheep In The Fog, Poppies In October & Daddy (just to name a few).
Disappointments: None :D

She touches the unstable in all of us..., 07 Apr 2005
'Ariel' is an anthology you'll return to again and again. The wonderful thing about poetry is that it is that it is for everyone. From the transcendental title poem itself (Ariel), through the turbulent and disturbing 'Daddy', to the cutting 'Edge' this anthology consumes you. Deeply personal, yet universally relevent this is Plath at her best, and yet at her worst which is an apposite description of her creative genuis. So often in life in Ted Hughs's shadow, this anthology remains true to the line 'The Woman is Perfected / Her dead body wears the smile of accomplishment' (Edge). The first performance of this poetry engages you, then every time you hear it, it means more, explores more, challenges more. Some criticise Personal Poetry for its lack of 'out-of-context' coherency, however, in this anthology Plath has suceeded in creating a whirlwind of emotion that works without any knowledge of Plath's life; however, the poems come to life the more you learn of her, the images become more horrific, or less horrific... Ariel allows you a small window into Plath's life-long journey towards the EXCITEMENT of death and the beauty and misery of that journey. This is an ameteur psychologist's dream... Buy it!

Poetry that breaks, 07 Mar 2005
There are few more searing books of poetry in the English language. It breaks, fragments, cuts like crystal. Hard, fragile truths. So much has been written about Plath, but it's her poetry that shines.

At last - Ariel as Plath intended, 23 Feb 2005
We finally have Ariel as Sylvia Plath intended it - the poems in the order left in her black ring binder in 1963. This powerful collection should be savoured and treasured more than it is. Additionally, the forward by Freida Hughes is an insightful personal memoir. Worth all the waiting.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Plath's work entices you into her world..., 02 Apr 2007
This is not simply a book of poetry written by a female writer. This is real, and raw. The emotion evoked and shared between reader and poet is out of this world... we are let in to Plath's world and mind. Her fears, dreams, and desires.

I would recommend this collection of poetry to anyone.

I read this alongside Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar', her only novel, and it is quite amazing how the two link. The same ideas are mused over, truly showing 'The Bell jar' as an autobiography of her own life, reflected in the character Esther Greenwood.

The First Time's Always Best, 20 Mar 2007
This was the first poetry book I read. I knew that - after reading 'Bell Jar' - Sylvia Plath would be my favourite poet. These poems express her yearning and overall defeat. Each step is new, refreshing and it is not a saccharine read. Every element of this collection leaves you stunned and wanting to know more of Sylvia. Reading over, the poems start to form a story just as good as 'Bell Jar'. Love It
Highlights: Sheep In The Fog, Poppies In October & Daddy (just to name a few).
Disappointments: None :D

She touches the unstable in all of us..., 07 Apr 2005
'Ariel' is an anthology you'll return to again and again. The wonderful thing about poetry is that it is that it is for everyone. From the transcendental title poem itself (Ariel), through the turbulent and disturbing 'Daddy', to the cutting 'Edge' this anthology consumes you. Deeply personal, yet universally relevent this is Plath at her best, and yet at her worst which is an apposite description of her creative genuis. So often in life in Ted Hughs's shadow, this anthology remains true to the line 'The Woman is Perfected / Her dead body wears the smile of accomplishment' (Edge). The first performance of this poetry engages you, then every time you hear it, it means more, explores more, challenges more. Some criticise Personal Poetry for its lack of 'out-of-context' coherency, however, in this anthology Plath has suceeded in creating a whirlwind of emotion that works without any knowledge of Plath's life; however, the poems come to life the more you learn of her, the images become more horrific, or less horrific... Ariel allows you a small window into Plath's life-long journey towards the EXCITEMENT of death and the beauty and misery of that journey. This is an ameteur psychologist's dream... Buy it!

Poetry that breaks, 07 Mar 2005
There are few more searing books of poetry in the English language. It breaks, fragments, cuts like crystal. Hard, fragile truths. So much has been written about Plath, but it's her poetry that shines.

At last - Ariel as Plath intended, 23 Feb 2005
We finally have Ariel as Sylvia Plath intended it - the poems in the order left in her black ring binder in 1963. This powerful collection should be savoured and treasured more than it is. Additionally, the forward by Freida Hughes is an insightful personal memoir. Worth all the waiting.

Awe-Inspiring, 07 Nov 2002
I am a huge fan of Sylvia Plath's poetry and, for me, this selection is where it all began back when I was a student. All the great poems are included here, such as 'Daddy', 'Ariel' and 'Tulips', printed in chronologic order. What I love most about Plath's poetry is the theme of identity; trying to understand herself and the times at which she doesn't is the cause for such isolation and vulnerablity. Clearly, there are some extremely depressing aspects to her work - the hospital visits, the suicide attempts and death in general, yet for me these just add more depth and profundity to her work. What many people all too easily forget I think, is that there is also much that is uplifting here too. Poems of motherhood and the joy that insires in the poet are evident in 'You're' and 'Morning Song'. I would almost be criminal not to read this selection alongside her fabulous novel 'The Bell Jar' just to see how deeply personal both her prose and verse truely are, all relating to events in Plath's difficult life. Personal favourites would have to be 'Ariel' and 'Cut' - the later makes you feel weak by the end of it! Yet, over all the rest, the final two poems of the selection, which were indeed her final poems, written days before she took her own life, 'Words' and 'Edge' are pure perfection. Indeed, the sense that Plath knew what she was about to do, even when writing these poems, is made clear; "The woman is perfected./Her dead//Body wears the smile of accomplishment". Plath is a fanatatic writer and this is a fantastic selection. My only criticism of this selection is it misses out some wonderful poems, such as 'Lady Lazarus', but still is utimately awe-inspiring.

Sylvia Plath died in 1963, and even now her outsize persona threatens to bury her poetry--the numerous biographies and studies often drawing the reader toward anecdote and away from the work. It's a relief to turn to the poems themselves and once more be jolted by their strange beauty, hard-wrought originality and acetylene anger. "It is a heart, / This holocaust I walk in, / O golden child the world will kill and eat." While the juvenilia and poems written before 1960 that Ted Hughes has included here prefigure Plath's later obsessions, they also enable us to witness her turn from thesaurus-heavy verse to stripped-down art as they gather power through raw simplicity. "The blood jet is poetry. / There is no stopping it," she declares in "Kindness."

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Plath's work entices you into her world..., 02 Apr 2007
This is not simply a book of poetry written by a female writer. This is real, and raw. The emotion evoked and shared between reader and poet is out of this world... we are let in to Plath's world and mind. Her fears, dreams, and desires.

I would recommend this collection of poetry to anyone.

I read this alongside Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar', her only novel, and it is quite amazing how the two link. The same ideas are mused over, truly showing 'The Bell jar' as an autobiography of her own life, reflected in the character Esther Greenwood.

The First Time's Always Best, 20 Mar 2007
This was the first poetry book I read. I knew that - after reading 'Bell Jar' - Sylvia Plath would be my favourite poet. These poems express her yearning and overall defeat. Each step is new, refreshing and it is not a saccharine read. Every element of this collection leaves you stunned and wanting to know more of Sylvia. Reading over, the poems start to form a story just as good as 'Bell Jar'. Love It
Highlights: Sheep In The Fog, Poppies In October & Daddy (just to name a few).
Disappointments: None :D

She touches the unstable in all of us..., 07 Apr 2005
'Ariel' is an anthology you'll return to again and again. The wonderful thing about poetry is that it is that it is for everyone. From the transcendental title poem itself (Ariel), through the turbulent and disturbing 'Daddy', to the cutting 'Edge' this anthology consumes you. Deeply personal, yet universally relevent this is Plath at her best, and yet at her worst which is an apposite description of her creative genuis. So often in life in Ted Hughs's shadow, this anthology remains true to the line 'The Woman is Perfected / Her dead body wears the smile of accomplishment' (Edge). The first performance of this poetry engages you, then every time you hear it, it means more, explores more, challenges more. Some criticise Personal Poetry for its lack of 'out-of-context' coherency, however, in this anthology Plath has suceeded in creating a whirlwind of emotion that works without any knowledge of Plath's life; however, the poems come to life the more you learn of her, the images become more horrific, or less horrific... Ariel allows you a small window into Plath's life-long journey towards the EXCITEMENT of death and the beauty and misery of that journey. This is an ameteur psychologist's dream... Buy it!

Poetry that breaks, 07 Mar 2005
There are few more searing books of poetry in the English language. It breaks, fragments, cuts like crystal. Hard, fragile truths. So much has been written about Plath, but it's her poetry that shines.

At last - Ariel as Plath intended, 23 Feb 2005
We finally have Ariel as Sylvia Plath intended it - the poems in the order left in her black ring binder in 1963. This powerful collection should be savoured and treasured more than it is. Additionally, the forward by Freida Hughes is an insightful personal memoir. Worth all the waiting.

Awe-Inspiring, 07 Nov 2002
I am a huge fan of Sylvia Plath's poetry and, for me, this selection is where it all began back when I was a student. All the great poems are included here, such as 'Daddy', 'Ariel' and 'Tulips', printed in chronologic order. What I love most about Plath's poetry is the theme of identity; trying to understand herself and the times at which she doesn't is the cause for such isolation and vulnerablity. Clearly, there are some extremely depressing aspects to her work - the hospital visits, the suicide attempts and death in general, yet for me these just add more depth and profundity to her work. What many people all too easily forget I think, is that there is also much that is uplifting here too. Poems of motherhood and the joy that insires in the poet are evident in 'You're' and 'Morning Song'. I would almost be criminal not to read this selection alongside her fabulous novel 'The Bell Jar' just to see how deeply personal both her prose and verse truely are, all relating to events in Plath's difficult life. Personal favourites would have to be 'Ariel' and 'Cut' - the later makes you feel weak by the end of it! Yet, over all the rest, the final two poems of the selection, which were indeed her final poems, written days before she took her own life, 'Words' and 'Edge' are pure perfection. Indeed, the sense that Plath knew what she was about to do, even when writing these poems, is made clear; "The woman is perfected./Her dead//Body wears the smile of accomplishment". Plath is a fanatatic writer and this is a fantastic selection. My only criticism of this selection is it misses out some wonderful poems, such as 'Lady Lazarus', but still is utimately awe-inspiring.

Underestimated - magnificent, 11 Oct 2007
Collected Plath and Collected Hughes should be read and enjoyed alongside one another. Plath's development as a writer is a fascinating study in itself. Reading her poetry, even just dipping in at a random point, will reveal endless surprises and stunning imagery throughout her life's work. Don't just go over and over the Ariel poems. Sylvia's poetry matured steadily and the 'Ariel voice' gathered depth, beauty and power; it seemed to burst out of nowhere. Through the Collected Poems, we can trace Sylvia's passionate talent.

Spellbinding, 28 Jan 2004
It is easy - all too easy - to become obsessed with Plath's real-life mental illness, relationships, demons and ultimate suicide. It's an unfortunate fact of life that an artist dies young and her life is placed in greater prominence than her art - her life BECOMES her art. For this reason Plath is all too often dismissed as a 'feminist poet' (read 'Lesbos' and think again, frankly) and a 'troubled artist' sniffily categorised as a purveyor of 'sixth form poetry'. Christ, how anyone believing this is missing out!

Plath's rich mastery of words lends itself to a jaunty, lyrical style that seems to sing from the page. It adds a compelling immediacy to such intense and intricate poetry as 'Daddy' and 'Lady Lazarus'. Frankly, at her best Plath is a joy to read and a master storyteller - both of her own emotions ('Edge', the final poem in this collection, is perhaps the single most harrowing work of art ever written) and of products of an unnervingly fertile imagination - one so versatile that she evades all stereotypes with a sidestep as neat and sharp as her turn of phrase.

It's not all doom and gloom, either. 'Balloons', despite it's uncertain and chilling pathos, displays a razor sharp wit, while 'You're' offers a sweet, bouncing lullaby to a sweet, bouncing newborn baby - hope and renewal delivered through the birth of a child ('a clean slate/with your own face on'). 'Cut' too, is an incredibly observant and tongue-in-cheek ode to a severed thumb, while 'Three Women' tackles the lives and feelings of three women undergoing three very different childbirths (one gives birth and returns home with her child, another is a young student who gives her 'terrible red girl' up for adoption and another is appalled by her male 'flatness' having miscarried) with such grace and intensity that it is a profoundly moving masterpiece.

I could go on. 'Mirror', 'The Moon and the Yew Tree', 'Fever 103' and 'Insomniac' are all personal favourites, and the Ariel poems alone are utterly life-altering, but there is so much more in this collection - from her Juvenilia through The Colossus to the very last poems - that is testament to the intense and intelligent scope of Plath's poetry, all of which is majestically woven with the threads of language more lyrical and alive than anything else I have ever read.

An introduction from the late Ted Hughes does appear to be somewhat cold and detached, even apathetic to Plath's work, but the poetry beyond will charm and sadden and cheer and astound and enrich read after read, year after year.

A truly essential purchase.

Deep,profound,and delightfully disturbing, 30 Jun 1999
By reading this book you are entering the world of Sylvia Plath.Her happiness and her depression.Poems like "The Ghosts Leavetaking","Daddy",and "Ariel" are filled with beautiful language with some of the most energetic language with a disturbing message.It will leave ytou satisfied and slightly chilled.

Collection details Plath's formidable talent., 18 Jun 1999
This book is the most complete collection of Sylvia Plath's poetry assembled in one volume. It is for this reason that it belongs almost as required reading, not just in American english programs, but in secondary schools everywhere. It's value lies in it's progression of a female poet and her journey towards finding her true voice. We see the early poems, methodically and skillfully written, shedding style after style of obvious influences through excercises of observation and perserverance. Through these verses, she explores and develops an intricate mythology; by the end, however, she has not lost us in her private world of symbolism and imagery, but enthralls us, heartbreakingly, through the mastery of her words. These last poems, that made up her final manuscript, are undisputedly some of the most moving and beautifully executed compositions of this past century. It is a wonderful book, one that forever changes the way the reader interprets art and the world around him that inspires it.

Overall, Plath is an amazing Poet, 15 Jun 1999
The book is very complete, and shows the incredable amount of tallent that Plath possessed.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Pathologically anti-male, and solopsistically banal, 15 Nov 2008
I've heard all sorts of claims of misogynism against writers like Martin Amis, and have always been perplexed by the critics inability to differentiate between complicated sexuality and downright hateful slander of an entire gender. So what do we have here?

Let's look at the male characters: Buddy Willard is a hypocritical philanderer, whose mistake was losing his virginity before Esther thought he had. The mistake was hers alone. I'm not mitigating Buddy - he seems like a bit of a dope - but it's when you look at Marco, the attempted rapist, Lenny, the screwy drunk DJ, and then finally we have nice Irwin, who Esther 'decided to seduce'. And when she gets what she desires, she proceeds to bleed profusely, her insides haemorraghing due to her virginity. This is then used as a tool to show how put-upon downtrodden Esther is. The doctor describes her body's reaction as being 'one in a million'. This just turns into an exercise of solopsism on Plath's part, whose work I have huge respect for, but I see why she published this under a pseudonym.

If this book helps you cope with depression, then more power to you. But there's something rampantly anti-male, rather than pro-feminist about the whole book. Aside from the fact that much of the prose constantly slides into retrospection in order to provide any depth or colour to what is happening in the present. She offers a scene then backslides out of it over and over again, with all these pointless - albeit fairly short - digressions about neighbour's past love life or history; it jars all the time.

My point about gender in regards to The Bell Jar is the shocking conclusion Doctor Nolan comes to with Esther's collusion: that men are fundamentally incapable of tenderness. What absolute rot. I'm 25 years old and if I wrote a novel (I've written three, the first published March 2009) where women were slandered for being too prissy or superficial, the Post Office couldn't provide me with a post bag big enough to deliver the papyral vitriol. It's the glib generalisations about men in general, which actually *undermine* femininity, by casting men as all after dumb satisfaction (Plath never even considers Irwin might just want to fall in love with Esther! But she never waits around long enough to find out; she runs off to the hospital in seconds to complain about yet another selfpitying episode) this automatically, and antithetically places women as totally alone, where men can just take what they want. What a bloody-minded, narcissitic perspective. This isn't about Esther as a character, it's the writer's, clearly very sick, state of mind at this point in her life, where Ted Hughes (her vastly superior poet ex-husband) has betrayed and cheated on her, and the depressive feels like the only persecuted soul in existence. Well Plath wasn't, and isn't. And such scenes are fairly embarrassing when re-read for the first time since my youth.

I can see why this appeals to teenagers (being a Manic Street Preachers obsessive, all I heard or read in interviews from Richey Edwards was about The Bell Jar, and, indeed, the band have something of a problem with masculinity, but phrase it in such a more powerful and convincing manner) suffering from depression. Frankly, writing as slopping and uninspired as much of the Bell Jar is depresses me a lot more than the toil and absurdity of the outside world.
The best thing I can say is that there are worse books out there. The worst thing I can say is that are infinitely stronger representations of female characters out there in literature. PLEASE seek out Morvern Callar by Alan Warner for a real female character with soul and heart.


degradation into depression, 15 Sep 2008
Sadly this author knew what she was talking about, and sadly I can relate to the protagonist. She describes the thought process perfectly and at one point I didn't even notice the change. It's a wonderfully written book, I just love it. I don't know what to say about it other than I really liked it, it's the only thing of hers I have read and because of this I just might try to read some of her poems, even though I'm not a poem kind of person.

On another note if you know of anyone who is depressed it might be a good idea to read this book to understand the way they are thinking. It could help and even if it doesn't it still a good read.

The view from inside a breakdown, 29 Jun 2008
I read this on the recommendation of my daughter who related to the semi autobiographical protagonist even 35 years later.
Although medical treatments have changed since the book was written, the frequency of such cases must surely have risen and this is as relevant a book as ever.

Esther Greenwood reperesents Sylvia Plath in the book; an intelligent, active woman who suddenly begins to find that life has lost its meaning and importance. From being constantly busy, she becomes totally demotivated, giving up further study in favour of lounging around her mother's house. After she attempts to kill herself with an overdose, her mother enlists medical help and Esther is eventually admitted to an asylum for treatment. This includes electric shock treatment and constant medication.
The treatment seems to have been sucessful to a degree as Ms Plath went on to write this book and numerous works of poetry. Unfortunately her eventual suicide, aged 31, suggests that all was not as it should have been and the ghosts were still lurking.

It put me in mind of Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen who also wrote of her time in a psychiatric ward in 1967. I was amazed to find, on further investigation, that she was in the same hospital as Sylvia Plath.

Recommended - a unique opportunity to understand the emotions and confusion of a breakdown.


Plath was a genius, 21 Sep 2007
The Bell Jar is definitely Plath speaking from her own experiences, in 1950s America and the tigma of mental illness that she experienced and how her family and friends coped.
It charts the journey of her bi polar illness and is very heavy in places but a worthwhile reading in understanding her poetry and other works.


Suicide as career move, 18 Sep 2007
A reviewer below claims, as a 'fact', that "Plath's genius is not being taught in schools". Not only is it a fact that The Bell Jar is on the AQA A2 syllabus, I am teaching it in my school. I am dismayed that someone who can make such elementary errors of fact feels at liberty to disseminate their ill-informed opinions. Not only is Plath a vastly inferior poet to her husband, The Bell Jar is vastly inferior to The Iron Man.

Plath's work entices you into her world..., 02 Apr 2007
This is not simply a book of poetry written by a female writer. This is real, and raw. The emotion evoked and shared between reader and poet is out of this world... we are let in to Plath's world and mind. Her fears, dreams, and desires.

I would recommend this collection of poetry to anyone.

I read this alongside Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar', her only novel, and it is quite amazing how the two link. The same ideas are mused over, truly showing 'The Bell jar' as an autobiography of her own life, reflected in the character Esther Greenwood.

The First Time's Always Best, 20 Mar 2007
This was the first poetry book I read. I knew that - after reading 'Bell Jar' - Sylvia Plath would be my favourite poet. These poems express her yearning and overall defeat. Each step is new, refreshing and it is not a saccharine read. Every element of this collection leaves you stunned and wanting to know more of Sylvia. Reading over, the poems start to form a story just as good as 'Bell Jar'. Love It
Highlights: Sheep In The Fog, Poppies In October & Daddy (just to name a few).
Disappointments: None :D

She touches the unstable in all of us..., 07 Apr 2005
'Ariel' is an anthology you'll return to again and again. The wonderful thing about poetry is that it is that it is for everyone. From the transcendental title poem itself (Ariel), through the turbulent and disturbing 'Daddy', to the cutting 'Edge' this anthology consumes you. Deeply personal, yet universally relevent this is Plath at her best, and yet at her worst which is an apposite description of her creative genuis. So often in life in Ted Hughs's shadow, this anthology remains true to the line 'The Woman is Perfected / Her dead body wears the smile of accomplishment' (Edge). The first performance of this poetry engages you, then every time you hear it, it means more, explores more, challenges more. Some criticise Personal Poetry for its lack of 'out-of-context' coherency, however, in this anthology Plath has suceeded in creating a whirlwind of emotion that works without any knowledge of Plath's life; however, the poems come to life the more you learn of her, the images become more horrific, or less horrific... Ariel allows you a small window into Plath's life-long journey towards the EXCITEMENT of death and the beauty and misery of that journey. This is an ameteur psychologist's dream... Buy it!

Poetry that breaks, 07 Mar 2005
There are few more searing books of poetry in the English language. It breaks, fragments, cuts like crystal. Hard, fragile truths. So much has been written about Plath, but it's her poetry that shines.

At last - Ariel as Plath intended, 23 Feb 2005
We finally have Ariel as Sylvia Plath intended it - the poems in the order left in her black ring binder in 1963. This powerful collection should be savoured and treasured more than it is. Additionally, the forward by Freida Hughes is an insightful personal memoir. Worth all the waiting.

Awe-Inspiring, 07 Nov 2002
I am a huge fan of Sylvia Plath's poetry and, for me, this selection is where it all began back when I was a student. All the great poems are included here, such as 'Daddy', 'Ariel' and 'Tulips', printed in chronologic order. What I love most about Plath's poetry is the theme of identity; trying to understand herself and the times at which she doesn't is the cause for such isolation and vulnerablity. Clearly, there are some extremely depressing aspects to her work - the hospital visits, the suicide attempts and death in general, yet for me these just add more depth and profundity to her work. What many people all too easily forget I think, is that there is also much that is uplifting here too. Poems of motherhood and the joy that insires in the poet are evident in 'You're' and 'Morning Song'. I would almost be criminal not to read this selection alongside her fabulous novel 'The Bell Jar' just to see how deeply personal both her prose and verse truely are, all relating to events in Plath's difficult l