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Abstract
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I have always been fascinated by Sylvia Plath, the American poet and novelist who killed herself in England on February 11, 1963, at the age of 30. I used her poems and novel (The Bell Jar) in my psychology classes, and I edited a special issue of Death Studies on her in which I got colleagues to delve into her unconscious.
Her husband, Ted Hughes, a British poet, had recently left Sylvia for a married woman, Assia Wevill, with whom he had a daughter born in March 1965 (although the father may have been Assia's husband rather than Ted). Their relationship was never stable (Ted had other lovers while they were involved), and Assia killed herself and their daughter in March 1969
Sylvia was buried in Heptonstall, Yorkshire, with the name "Sylvia Plath Hughes" on the headstone. Feminists often came to the gravesite and scratched out the name "Hughes." Robin Morgan published a poem, "The Arraignment," in her book Monster in 1972 accusing Ted of killing Sylvia. "l accuse/ Ted Hughes," she wrote. For many years I shared this anger toward Ted Hughes. Not only had his first wife killed herself, but so had his next love. I used to say to my students that, if they ever ran into Ted Hughes, run the other way. He drove women to suicide.
But wait a minute, David! You left a wife for another woman, and your next wife left you for another man. Marriages break up all the time, often there is another individual involved, and yet the vast majority of those who are left do not kill themselves. Why are you so angry with Ted Hughes? Clearly, my fascination with Sylvia had led me to blame her husband for her decision to die by suicide
Language: en |