The Bell Jar | By Sylvia Plath
Not a book that I would pick up on my own volition, it was recommended to me. I started reading The Bell Jar with the expectation that (based on the recommendation) it was “really fucked up.”
So of course I went and bought that shit up. It’s not often that a book comes with that kind of statement.
I read half of the book and nothing remotely fucked up had happened yet. As far as I could tell I was reading a story about a basic bitch in the fifties…
This book almost went over my head. It wasn’t until I was done reading the dull - what is this girl's conflict? -narrative that I gave the book a second thought.
I didn’t have to look far or dig deep to learn that this book was a direct reflection of Plath’s life (a memoir of sorts).
It wasn’t for the entertainment, it was literal interpretation.
This book was a lesson in perspective and depression.
Esther – Her unhappy thoughts, thoughts of suicide and methods were entwined with the everyday things like books, hot baths, boyfriends, and peers. I didn’t see any real reason for her to be as unstable as she was – so I came up with my own conclusions about her. And such is life Esther did the same thing to Joan. Because of the way they appeared to be, their feelings didn’t seem valid or genuine.
Then there was Doreen – blond, beautiful, and was just not giving a shit about what she was supposed to be doing or what others thought of her. – I think this is the woman Sylvia wanted to be – but just couldn’t be.
