Customer Reviews

Birthday Letters

5 star:		(32)
4 star:		(14)
3 star:		(5)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

Ted Hughes, Poet Laureate to Queen Elizabeth II, is the author of more than forty books of poems, prose, and translation. He has received the Whitbread Book of the Year Award and now the W. H. Smith Award for his Tales of Ovid. However, what first brought him into the limelight was the death of his poet wife, Sylvia Plath - an incident that sent shock waves through literary circles in1963 and had all the radical feminists up in arms against the man who had allegedly driven his wife to a self-inflicted death. Ever since, Hughes has been at the centre of controversies.

Condemned to live on as a survivor, for many years Hughes wrote nothing but children's verse. At the same time he concentrated on bringing out Sylvia Plath's poems, letters (edited by her mother, Aurelia Plath) and journals. And then, when he did turn back to poetry, not surprisingly, he focused on the negative side of life, the darker forces in the universe which are forever threatening man. He did not write of personal experiences. He did not write of his wife's suicide, or of emotional and other disasters he surely must have suffered. And yet the sense of doom crept into his poetry through symbols from the animal world: the jaguar, the the hawk, and the crow - masks from the world of nature that the poet donned to hide the pain he lived through. Meanwhile the Plath myth has grown. It has all the makings of a cult: the love and the hate, the betrayal and the anger, with the sensationalism climaxing in self-destructive violence.

The present volume of poems, Birthday Letters, is very different from the earlier collections. Whereas earlier Hughes liked to assume the role of a sort of wild man of the woods surrounded by his animals and birds, here we have Ted Hughes the man, the husband and the lover, without his mask. These are poems, personal and intimate, addressed to Sylvia Plath, written over a period of thirty-five years following her death.

In order to appreciate the poems of Birthday Letters fully the reader needs to be familiar with the life and work of Sylvia Plath. There are at least three crucial biographical facts that cast their shadow on her work: one, the premature death of her father when she was barely eight; two, the separation from her husband, Ted Hughes, in whom she saw a father surrogate; and, three, her suicide attempts, the first unsuccessful one at the age of twenty-one, and the final successful attempt in her thirtieth year. On these major events of Plath's life is based her major poetry, its cries of helpless rage alternating with gloomy despair, its narcissistic concern with the individual self colouring all themes and subjects she chooses to write of. And these are the events referred to repeatedly in the new poems of Ted Hughes.

Birthday Poems may thus be considered a companion piece to Sylvia Plath's poetry, offering another understanding of it by filling in the background to poems, to the early days of their courtship and the growing intensity of their relationship. A sense of fatality seems to be an integral part of the relationship, right from the beginning:

"Nor did I know I was being auditioned
For the male lead in your drama,
Miming through the first easy movements
As if with eyes closed, feeling for the role.
As if a puppet were being tried on its strings,
Or a dead frog's legs touched by electrodes."

A suicide, they say, kills two people - the one who dies and the one who doesn't. As the survivor who didn't, Ted Hughes has silently borne his private hell over the last thirty-five years. This is what the poems testify. But if writing them must have been a painful process, breaking his silence and compiling them for public consumption could not possibly have been easy. And so he speaks of the
"Old despair and new agony / Melting into one familiar hell."

Images and themes from Plath's work find their way repeatedly into Hughes' poems. "Sam" refers to the time when Plath's horse (Ariel) ran wild. She had hung on to his neck and returned to the stables in a state of shock. The image of the Hanging God from Plath figures several times and is linked to the Daddy figure that, according to Hughes and other Plath critics, was the harbinger of doom in her life. The arrow symbol of "Ariel," the fixed stars governing one's life, the Bronte countryside, the man in black, the stalking panther, azalea flowers, the works of Giorgio de Chiricio - these are images from Sylvia Plath's work that Hughes draws upon and they all testify that for him she is still a presence that he must live with whether he likes it or not.

Perhaps Hughes is trying to exonerate himself. It is not surprising that he talks about Sylvia Plath's life as a struggle to keep in control. Driven by the demons to succeed, she had to pay a heavy price for fame and recognition. In "Ouija," Hughes describes an early premonition of doom:
"Maybe you'd picked up a whisper that I could not
Before our glass could stir, some still small voice:
`Fame will come. Fame especially for you.
Fame cannot be avoided. And when it comes
You will have paid for it with your happiness,
Your husband and your life.'"
Hughes poems are like snapshots frozen in time, best understood by a reader who approaches them without prejudice against the author. They give us the survivor's story of what it was like to be bonded to a brilliant, fiery individual who was to be transformed into a myth, into something of an immortal cult figure, who was destined to live a brief but meteoric life. And who flamboyantly proclaimed that dying was an art: like everything else she did it exceptionally well.

I have done extensive research on Sylvia Plath. I never saw her as the poor, defenseless victim many feminists portray her as, but reading about her struggles with Ted Hughes did not make him my favorite person. Reading "Birthday Letters" was quite a shock for me. The powerful emotions of grief, sorrow, and tenderness cast Mr. Hughes in a new light. I felt almost as if I were intruding on an intimate moment between him and his late wife. I was captivated by this work, but I feel knowledge of his history with Plath is essential for a full understanding of the work.

Having just read readers' reviews I am shocked at how judgemental people are, after all this time. The poetry seems to count for so little. Nobody makes someone commit suicide, it was Plath herself who chose that route. Hughes didn't murder her, he simply didn't want her any more. Anyone out there ever had someone commit suicide on them? It is those who are left behind who suffer, especially children. Any money Hughes made from this book will go straight to the Hughes-Plath children, not to Hughes for God's sake. The poetry is searing, to anyone who knows the unhappy tale of this marriage especially. The poems are like journal entries in places, and they are also powerful, disruptive narratives in what has been a very one-sided debate. I adore Plath's work, and still think it vastly underrated, but here we see the image of Hughes the Iceman having melted, to reveal the damaged human being underneath.

I have read countless books about the life and works of Sylvia Plath, and in doing so, have attempted to uncover whatever real truths exist about the love affair between Sylvia and Ted. I think this book of gorgeous narrative poems is testimony that often, there is no 'simple answer' or 'person to blame' in a relationship that has failed. It is also testimony to Hughes's undying, colossal love for his former wife, however he may have wrecked it in their youth. It is a beautiful and moving read, particularly if you have read some background material beforehand. All his subtle references take on a much deeper meaning when one knows the details behind them, and the details according to Sylvia. The poetry is lush and shimmers with a sincere, burning love for a troubled woman who left us much too soon.

As another relative newcomer to Plath/Hughes history, I found myself fascinated by Hughes ability to capture the emotional textures of a relationship. It is fairly obvious there is a self serving quality to these poems, but it is impossible to deny the power within his lines. "Epiphany" alone is worth reading this collection, with its stunning imagery of a fox club for sale to an eye opening evaluation of what it takes to be successful in marriage and how he has failed. When it comes to Plath, Hughes is very open in dealing with the two sides of her nature; the beautiful free spirit and the mind that so easily drifted into anger and despair, often in the same poem; but he is far from forthcoming about himself, always keeping an emotional distance from the reader, occasionally allowing a glimpse of his inner being but only enough to move the images along. It is this distance that makes the collection a bit cold despite the heat of Plath's presence.

Since Sylvia Plath's suicide in 1963, Ted Hughes had been unfairly demonized by Plath's largely feminist following as an unfaithful domineering bully who allegedly drove his wife over the edge. To his credit, Hughes had always kept a dignified distance from his detractors. He finally broke his silence shortly before his own death in 1998 with this beautiful collection of poems which appear in chronological order as letters of reminiscence about their life together, written in reply to Sylvia Plath's published diary account of their marriage. You only have to read Birthday Letters in conjunction with the Journals of Sylvia Plath to realise how deeply Ted Hughes loved and missed his first wife. Touching and heartbreakingly sad, and very moving.

I must admit I felt a dislike of Ted before embarking on this book, from reading a bunch of Slyvia's work which I revere highly. I was also very skeptical of watching the film with Gwenyth Paltrow, which impressed me as it seemed like a good representation of them and very well acted. The movie actually made things more clear to me and they must have taken from his book Birthday Letters to write the script because certain scenes in the film are some of his poems.

This book is very moving and I started to sob about 4 poems into it. Definately a book to read on a cold rainy day!

Now, this is just my opinion - but I am a bit confused. Aside from the poetry written by Bob Dylan - it is doubtful that anyone (other than the late Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes) would have the spectacular name recognition as poets world-wide. Indeed, the plethora of books written about Plath and Hughes almost rival the number of books available (and still being published) about the Kennedys. But these were only 2 married individuals. My point is this. Regardless of the circumstances of Plath's tragic suicide, her genius as a poet, or her complexities personally - "Ariel" and the rest of her work ("The Bell Jar" "Journals" and more) were largely responsible in launching the respect for female poets and writers world-wide in the confessional genre so incredibly popular today with both men and women. Also, regardless of what one chooses, or not, to believe about Hughes as a husband, he was unequivocally one of the greatest poets of the 20th century - and served officially as The Poet Laureate of England for years until his death. This book therefore is - nothing less than Hughes' artistic last will and testament: an enormously important work (especially as a First American Edition) because it leaves many of us with a most profound side of their art and the story. Not to omit the fact that the poetry here is so magnificent that penned by (and about) - the two most famous poets in the world today deserves more attention than metaphorically placing it on a back shelf somewhere to collect dust. You will never - regret purchasing this most valuable collection at almost any price.

I have to admit that morbid curiosity drove me to buy this book. I was fascinated with learning more about a man who lost two wives to suicide. And, being an English major in the US, I read A LOT of Plath but was never exposed to Hughes' work. I think there is a prejudice against him, especially by female poets/scholars.

But, this quickly became my favorite collection of poetry. Hughes uses Plath's own mythology to eulogize her--her father obsession, her suicide attempts. But he also weaves the familiar into it--her attempt at making rag rugs and at domesticity in general. Any married person can understand his imagery and his heartbreak. Of course, my favorite is Dreamers, when Ted realizes he loves another woman. She seems as exotic to him as his marriage seems dull.

For anyone who has spent much time with Sylvia Plath's work, the power of her own voice overwhelms any sense of objectivity about her subject matter. It's not accidental that she began to insist that the poems were best heard out loud, in her voice, because it is precisely the strength of her highly personal use of language that comes through so forcefully. This has seemingly left little room for debate, and many of those who have written about Plath's work have simply added a kind of cheer of support ("You go, girl!") to that voice. But there are two sides to every story, and Ted Hughes "Birthday Letters" is extremely moving in what it reveals about what it was like to live with a "genius" who also happened to have a history of mental breakdowns. At times, Hughes poems closely reference Plath's, often to very telling effect. For example, Plath's poem "The Rabbit Catcher," which describes her sense of identification with the hunted, and has her pulling up rabbit traps that she finds, protecting the poor bunnies from the evil hunters. Hughes remembers that day differently, watching his wife screaming, as she ripped up the wire traps that provided a little free nourishment to local poor farmers, undoing what to him was generations of history. Until the publication of this book, we've only had Plath's take on the events of her marriage, and these poems provide a much needed sense of how very difficult it must have been living with someone as internally tortured and emotionally volatile as Plath. A few of Hughes' poems are a little bit over the top (especially "The Dogs Are Eating Your Mother"), but the defensiveness is very much in the background. One senses instead how emotionally charred Hughes has been since Plath's suicide, how he has continued to reflect on the details of their relationship, searching for answers to the inevitable question of why that accompanies any self-inflicted death. A good counter-balance to Hughes' poems is the book "The Silent Woman," which outlines the history of how Hughes and his sister Olwyn have handled the Plath estate; you'll better understand why some feminist critics think these poems are too little too late. For the average lover of poetry, however, you'll be grateful for the insights Hughes provides, and you'll also be moved by the beauty of his language. After all, apparently a major part of Plath's attraction to him was that he was such a good poet.