The Bell Jar
Of all the modern classics, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath holds a special place as the quintessential women's novel. Published in England in 1963 under the pen name Victoria Lucas, The Bell Jar fictionalizes Plath's twentieth summer and the events surrounding a depressive episode.
American Cover, Photograph by Gary Isaacs/Photonica
Right after the novel's publication, however, Plath succumbed to suicide. The novel itself only gained acclaim afterwards; initial reviews, without her name attached, were mixed, but her death and its eventual link to the novel brought notoriety and praise. Today, the novel circulates within the femcel/coquette niches of the internet, alongside The Virgin Suicides, My Year of Rest and Relaxation, and Girl, Interrupted. This aestheticization of women’s mental illnesses has further skewed perceptions around it, painting an image of a woman going mad across New York. Beyond its classic and cult statuses, why does the novel hold such staying power?
Esther Greenwood is already getting fuzzy at the edges when we meet her. One of twelve, she is an intern at Ladies' Day, a women’s magazine based in New York. The magazine lavishes the girls with gifts and board, yet Esther is already preoccupied with perceptions and her developing role in society: she feels like the Other when compared to her fellow interns; her boyfriend, Buddy Willard, has had sex, leaving her to wrestle with the double standards; she is at odds with her impending motherhood and the ephemerality of her academic achievements. The circumstances surrounding her episode feel particularly relevant today with the rise of burnout, the devaluing of the arts, and continued gender discrimination and the rollback of women's rights around the world. At times, Esther's collapsing psyche and outlook struck a little too close to home. And while it is doubtful that these issues are the sole cause for her “crack-up,” their inclusion lends great understanding into her growing apathy and paradoxical sensitivity to the world around her. The pacing of this novel is deliberately slow. Time stretches and congeals like honey. The first half of the novel oozes over her month-long internship, while the remaining half becomes increasingly disjointed. This fragmentation of time further immerses us in Esther's own breakdown. An inversion of conventions, the novel begins in the height of summer, where the oppressive heat of New York begins to unravel Esther’s psyche. Her freedom, or the promise of it, occurs in the heart of winter; her paranoia recedes to the corners, still present but less forceful. The titular bell jar, the container of stagnant air of depression and anguish, has lifted. To many who've experienced depression, Esther’s bell jar feels familiar. It suffocates and encloses. She does not revel in her misery; she hates the pain and fears anyone who may inflict more upon her. She is desperate to escape the jar, even if it means her own death. She is not always likable, as she readily manipulates and lies to protect herself, even if she is in the wrong. Yet the honesty with which she shares her inner mind, though she does not fully understand it herself, makes this an endlessly relevant and truthful account of mental illness. But the gaps in the text show its age and pull you out of the story. Plath, in this honesty, reminds us that this novel is a product of its time. Racial antagonisms and racist language thread throughout, delivered with such casualness that it feels dissonant for the modern reader. Despite Esther’s claims of being the lowest rung on the ladder, the position she holds in society is what saves her from the bell jar. Her patron, Philomena Guinea, personally covers the costs for Esther's private hospital stay. We see her kick a Black staff member in a scene where it’s unclear if, by the original intentions, we’re supposed to agree with her actions. She’s disgusted by her friend who sleeps with another female patient, yet it is this exposure to lesbianism that spurs her to cement her own autonomy.
Photograph from Bettmann / Getty
Plath reforges herself into Esther Greenwood, a flawed, imaginative character who gets in her own way, the way so many of us depressives do. Today, The Bell Jar remains a striking character study and psychological dissection. A must-read for any struggling twenty-something, so long as you have the strength to face it.
