“I believe that there are people who think as I do, who have thought as I do, who will think as I do.”

— Sylvia Plath

I first read those words as a teenager eager to gain insight into this mysterious figure. There were stories, so many stories of her marriage to Hughes, her mental illness and her suicide. Critics argued Plath’s work was inextricably linked to her life, I always disagreed with my professors and classmates in an easy-going manner. I accepted the incredulous looks and groans with amusement, after all, I knew better. As my professor patiently defined confessional poetry, I devised a counterargument: it was simply that there was more to Plath’s poetry than her tumultuous life. Read the rest of this entry »