When you died on 11 February 1963, my mom was nine years old. My grandmother was your age: thirty. She’s eighty-one now, but to all of the world you still look like this:
Sylvia Plath.
How sad.
“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 
I was seven when she died.
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Just a babe!
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Powerful.
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Thank you, momma!
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Sylvia was just a kid. Read The Bell Jar recently and loved, loved, loved it. Hadn’t read it before and was surprised by how good it was and how different from her poetry. Thanks for a touching and memorable post.
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I read it for the first time as a teenager, which is pretty typical for serious and emotional girls. Each time I’ve read it since then, I’ve experienced it in a different way. It’s a new thing each time. I am glad you finally read and enjoyed The Bell Jar! I am glad you liked my post; thanks for stopping by!
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OOPs. Put the wrong link in there (it links to my edit page). Would you mind deleting it? Sorry for the inconvenience. This is the correct link: http://erupprecht.wordpress.com/2013/10/11/on-first-looking-into-the-bell-jar/
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No worries. I will bookmark this link, and delete your original comment.
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one of the most visceral writers ever. she left such a legacy of beautiful words. a beautiful and haunted soul.
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So true! Reading her work is still a punch to the throat.
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For sure x
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Reblogged this on Hemmingplay.
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a beautiful post.
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Thank you so much!
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I love this post……
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Thank you so much. I wanted to keep it brief, potent, and lacking syrupy sentiment. Seemed fitting.
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So brilliant…
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Yes, she was!
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Among the Narcissi is one of my favorite poems….
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It is a great one. I cannot choose a favourite. Or, perhaps I should say that my favourite changes with my mood and the seasons…
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