I have great respect for the way the theme of mental illness is harshly portrayed in this book, only I wish it had been a little less abrupt in its execution. Mental illness is a lifelong battle (I would know), and although I understand it wasn't always well understood (and still isn't, really), I just think Esther Greenwood a bit too spiteful in the handling of her situation. If she were a more active participant in her healing, she might have met with better results. ( )

well... you know... being a women innit ( )

Not what I was expecting at all! Way more fun (except of course for some parts) and exceptionally good. The novel is in two parts, the first is a bit like a very Americanised version of writers like Penelope Lively set in 1950's New York, and later Boston. Witty, droll, brilliant Esther begins her tale as an intern at a fashion magazine in New York, going out to fabulous dinners and parties. Esther observes the world and the people around her with cutting insight and takes it all as natural, its privilege doesn’t seem to occur to her. There is very little other than what seemed perfectly normal misgivings for such a brilliant mind in the first half of the novel, along with cutting insight into societal and corporate burdens on women. Men do not fare well in general, all of the strong characters and positive roles are women, though not all women fare well. The end of this NY period, some uncertainties, and a period of prolonged insomnia trigger a rapid and terrifying onset of mental illness; the decent of the bell jar. The second story, essentially the entire the second half of the novel, describes the illness, inept and barbaric ‘treatment’, and an incredibly fortunate rescue from these circumstances. Lobotomies and electroshock were the tools of the times, even a nurse Rached type character has a cameo. As our heroine slowly recovers you can feel her wit, sauciness and piecing intellect reemerging from the frozen fog. It is told by our narrator describing her past, so even in the darkest times is very calm and if anything told in a mildly curious tone, as though more amazed by what she went through rather than torn up by it. Just an amazing read from such a tragic shooting star. 4.5 ( )

Somehow, in all my time on the planet, I've kind of missed out on Sylvia Plath. I had no knowledge of her or her writing, and I decided it was probably time to change that.

The first two things I noticed about this short novel was that the story itself seemed to very anecdotal. Small, almost unimportant events and observations simply strung together, with no real through-story. The other was that the writing itself is gorgeous.

So this sits—for me, at least—almost in the same region as, say, Kerouac's ON THE ROAD in that the only specific story is the main character's experience.

Yet, for all of that, as the story gets darker and darker, the book is impossible to put down. And knowing that this was the last full novel she wrote, I found myself wondering what brilliant offerings Plath could have produced, if she'd had more time. ( )

2.5 Stars ( )