sharp, sad, suffocating, poignant, and surprisingly funny, The Bell Jar puts things into words that i could have never described before. it’s heartbreaking, yet hopeful, yet tinged with fear and irony. it is almost scary to read. 

poor Esther Greenwood is failed over and over again. the people around her fail her, her career fails her, her own mind fails her. she gets caught in her own head and starts assuming the world is out to get her. her spiral into insanity is so seamless that i hardly noticed it happening— i went from agreeing with her to nervously laughing at her to fearing for her. her devolution is slow yet deliberate, and Plath’s hand is steady and true in guiding Esther’s paranoia and depression in a way that seems almost rational. after all, *shouldn’t* Esther be paranoid, after all the duplicity she’s faced? 

Plath’s commentary is so succinct and accurate it made me tremble with its truth. the imagery of the bell jar itself, the depiction of female hysteria, the intricacies of navigating an unfair world— it all left me dazed. i’m so glad i got around to reading this. its classic status is well-deserved, and i hope to read more Plath in the future.