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Sylvia had some issues. The artist’s emotional life seemed to be too fragile, which is a quality that can lend a romantic aura to the artist, with that need to be more sensitive to the world around her in order to be an effective poet, but not too sensitive to destroy her. Well, at least the proven artist has an excuse and can be romantic rather than merely pathetic, right?

_ _ _

On the surface it was a typical success story: the brilliant examination-passer driving forward so fast and relentlessly that nothing could ever catch up with her. And it can last a lifetime, provided nothing checks the momentum, and the vehicle of all those triumphs doesn’t disintegrate into sharp fragments from sheer speed and pressure. But already her progress had twice lurched to a halt. Between her month on Mademoiselle and her last years in college she had had the nervous breakdown and desperately serious suicide attempt which became the theme of her novel, The Bell Jar. Then, once re-established at Smith - “an outstanding teacher,” said her colleagues - the academic prizes no longer seemed worth the effort. So in 1958 she had overthrown university life - Ted had never seriously contemplated it - and gone free-lance, trusting her luck and talent as a poet.

-- A. Alvarez, “The Savage God”

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May 2019

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