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| Carrot cake for Sylvia's birthday, Oct. 27. -Amin Safaripour, Unsplash |
This week Sylvia Plath would have turned 91. Let's imagine that she didn't kill herself. What we might be hearing:
"Did you know Sylvia Plath was Ted Hughes's first wife? Divorced him, hung around London until she realized she'd never belong and needed a real job. Book reviews weren't paying and BBC had had enough of her since her only subject was herself. Her funny/bitter divorce novel Double Exposure sat unfinished because she couldn't find the right ending. Granted, she became a path-breaking poet despite Ariel being her personal domestic drama, throwing darts at Ted as if he cared one whit. The Bell Jar? British readers sighed: an overprivileged American, suicidal because she had too many choices.
With her children Plath moved back to the U.S. and as a female couldn't get credit or a credit card in her own name until 1974. For lack of child care, Plath declined to teach freshman English at Smith and by the time the kids were in boarding school no one at Smith had ever heard of her. Grants and prizes went to younger writers. Plath then opted to publish The Bell Jar in the U.S., alienating all her friends except Mr. Crockett, and her furious mother burned all her letters and childhood stuff. Plath worked as an instructor at Boston University and later, after the success of Three Women, had a full professorship in the English department at a vocational college.*
American Literature was a boys' club, alcoholic and handsy, and Anne Sexton with her Pulitzer held the top spot for women poets and said Plath had copied her. This inspired Plath to write the novel Gargoyles. In the middle 1970s, feminists discovered and reprinted Plath's poems "Daddy" and "The Jailor." Teased at school that "Daddy" was their daddy, the kids moved back overseas where their father had a new wife and children and was publishing book after book.
Healed by the antidepressant Prozac and inspired by a stay in Alaska with her son, Plath wrote the brilliant, bracing poems of Ocean 1212-W, a volume credited with seeding modern eco-poetry. At rendering a landscape or infusing a mere feather with moral dimension and meaning, Plath had no 20th-century peers. Plath let Ms. magazine publish her old radio play Three Women. A producer read it, asked for its theatrical rights -- and the adaptation was a hit!
Three Women was the first drama set in a maternity ward. Women could identify! With music, it was hailed as "For Colored Girls, but without the color." Its off-Broadway success funded the travel and studies that inspired the poems of Molten and Plume, the latter book short-listed for important awards. But Plath's essay trashing John Ashbery's work got her labeled "flaky" and "anile." Interviewers asked her only about Ted and whether she was writing a book about Ted. The published divorce novel seemed dated and unfunny. A family member in turn published a novel about a poet mother, titled Harpy.
Plath taught in an MFA program for 11 years, earning five-star ratings. Her collected environmental essays were published as The Raw Meat Motel. Nudged into retirement when a student found ethnic slurs in her early work, Plath reviewed her stacks of journals and manuscripts and copies of Mademoiselle and in an email wrote, It scarcely seems possible that we were all so obsessed with ourselves and with our little games of distinction! Plath recycled all that paper and moved house. Her mirror, she says, shows a committed artist who never misses a sunrise and hopes she lives to be older than Stanley Kunitz."
Not an easy life, but honorable and full! Better than most. Many happy returns!
*In 1985, women were only 17 percent of full-time U.S. faculty at the associate professor and professor levels.