Sometimes I think I should write two book reviews. I should write one when I'm in the middle of reading a book and I don't know how it will end. And then I should write one after I've finished it.
Because a book is an experience. It's not an entire thing. You can feel one way about it in the middle and very different at the end. The middle is often the best part, it's like being on the rollercoaster. The end of the book is what you remember about being on the roller coaster.
The Bell Jar was amazing because of how it pulled me into the emotions without me realizing I was in the middle of them.
I'll tell you, books pull me in. I felt sick and scared and weird when I read Beloved. The Fountainhead makes me cold and fierce and ambitious. I cried for days and days about the state of the world after I read The Poisonwood Bible. My speech pattern change entirely when I read Sense and Sensibility; I require far more clauses to ask for a cup of tea.
And Plath sucked me into the bell jar. I was there with Esther in the middle of all her strange feelings. Plath doesn't go into huge explanations of why Esther feels pointless, so I didn't realize when I started feeling pointless too.
But oh my god, I felt pointless. Everything seemed incredibly overwhelming. While I was reading the book, I had no desire to do anything. I felt like blowing off all my responsibilities and just curling up in a chair and reading.
I feel that way sometimes. It didn't seem unusual that I felt that way while reading this book. But when some challenges showed up at work, they practically undid me. I felt like I totally couldn't handle them, like there was no way out, that I was damned if I did and damned anyway. My stomach tightened up and I felt like crawling under my desk and hiding.
Article comments
1 - Joe
I read this book years ago and I still feel a tinge of dread just thinking about it. I liked your point about writing a review at different points in your progress through a book. I had a similar experience but with a twist. I'm reading Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the author of the Little Prince. I read the first chapter and thought "Uh oh, this really isn't for me." I just kept kind of losing focus on where he was headed, sort of like what happens if I try watching NASCAR. It got to the point where I was going to just put it down and not pick it back up when I got to a passage that opened it up for me. It was suddenly clear where he had been headed and I found myself literally nodding in agreement as I read. I love when that happens.
2 - Albatross
a friend and i had been feeling just like she wrote in that book and it was almost eerie to see those words. to read all of those thoughts that had been circling around in my mind for some time. To see how similar a person from the past who was already dead and so unfamiliar was. It was strange. And after i was done i was not the same because the book opened my eyes to something i knew i wasn't sure about. wasn't sure if i wanted to give it life. but i had to. i wanted to. the book is bad for you. you can tell while you're reading. but i wanted it.
and i love sylvia plath.
if you can get your hands on her poems you should. I have only read pieces of Ariel. and i was reading her short stories and journal excerpts and essays, Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams, but i didn't finish.