Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

The reception and treatment of Plath’s poetry has been affected by the details of her life to an extent that is unusual.

But if you ignore the gravitational pull of the biography and the polemics, what you’re left with is a superb poet who produced some fine poems. Although he was talking about Robert Graves, Sir Geoffrey Hill’s suggestion that great art is produced when trauma and technique are in balance applies to Plath. in some other poems, and in some of her most famous poems, the technique is overwhelmed by the trauma. In others technique wins out and there’s nothing much left. When she got the balance right she produced impressive art.

I don’t know if this is one of her better poems, but it’s one I like for its surreal menace.