I’ve never finished reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I’ve felt the familiar feeling of the soft book cover being pushed into my hands many times, but no matter how many, “I think you’ll really like this,” and “You remind me of the author of this book,” I get, I can’t bring myself to turn more than a few pages before losing interest. I’m sorry if this is your favorite book, I just can’t get into it. Despite my dislike for the book, my love of reading and research has never failed me. The second time I was gifted The Bell Jar I researched Sylvia for an entire week. I was so consumed with learning about this author for some reason. Looking back, it might have been an attempt to distract myself from the fact that I didn’t enjoy the book even though it felt like everyone in my life who read it was obsessed.
Sometime,s when I meet or find someone on the internet, it becomes clear to me after a few days that the only thing we have in common with each other is how sad we are. This isn’t a bad thing, per se. It’s very upsetting that I and said person are sad, but it’s nice being there for someone while getting to learn about a lot of new things and cultures. Learning about Sylvia while reading some of her other work that I enjoyed was kind of like that.
I tried to pick up a copy of Sylvia’s most famous work recently, hoping that I’d matured enough to get through it this time. Again, I only got through a couple of chapters but this time, I was able to acknowledge her bravery and consideration when writing about such a daunting topic.