Fifty years of Fascination | Ellen Desmond

On the eve of her 50^th anniversary of her death, Ellen Desmond remembers the legendary literary figure that is Sylvia Plath.Sylvia Plath is a name that literature fanatics can’t seem to shake off. Nearly everyone has heard of Plath - whether you’re still holding a grudge against her from last year’s Leaving Cert or you read an article about her in the dentist’s waiting room last Friday, she’s pretty much always everywhere. This is an interesting fact when one stops to consider that Plath died by suicide 50 years ago this month and yet, as a people, we’re still utterly consumed and fascinated by the mind of Plath. Or more specifically, the miracles produced by that mysterious and inaccessible mind. Perhaps we’re even more intrigued now that her sad death has become a beautifully realistic part of her poetry’s tragic imagery and an iconic part of her name, which is a somewhat controversial light that we should perhaps hesitate to shine it in.However, another reason she has become a deeper source of fascination following her death is arguably because during her life, she was often outshone by her husband (and then ex-husband), the poet Ted Hughes, whose works were given far more credit and praise than Plath’s were in her day. This is now mostly credited to the gender inequality of those times. Andrew Wilson’s Mad Girl’s Love Song, published this month is the latest addition to the shelf of Plath biographies. For once, however, this is slightly different to the unending analyses of Plath’s failed marriage or mental health issues and seeks instead to illustrate a picture of the Sylvia that was, before she met Ted.There’s always a certain stigma about the works of Plath and I’ll be honest, as an avid fan, I’m biased and should refrain from comment, but I hate it more than anything. Many have argued that Plath would never have come up with the gems of her finest collection Ariel had she not gone through her traumas over Hughes and perhaps this is true but who knows what other masterpieces would then have lay in store. Many more have argued too, with prejudices and a lack of understanding, that her works are “depressing” or violent. I’ve been criticised for reading her semi-autobiographical The Bell Jar, and asked with concern and a look of distaste “why I would bother reading something like that”. The answer being simply; that Plath was a genius with words and a beautiful writer who had an overwhelming imagination and phenomenal appreciation of the little things around her. If you’re not into poetry try reading Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams, to see some variation in her writing.The point stands that her tragic death and life should be irrelevant to how we personally interpret her works. The continuous biographies and publishing of her private journals would have disgraced Plath. True, she based her works on her own experiences and opinions but we should take them solely as presented and make them our own intimate experiences of what she intended to be read and nothing more. There is no evidence to suggest she wished her private life to be interrogated further in such a manner, or she would have written so - it’s Plath, she wrote about everything. That all said, I have every intention of buying Mad Girl’s Love Song tomorrow on my break and have her complete journals as a constant bedside companion. So, I’m sorry Sylvia, but at least I tried. I just can’t help but be fascinated.