Book Review — Pain, Parties, Work: Sylvia Plath in New York, Summer 1953

Peeks into the lives of the big, the beautiful, and the dead are always fascinating. Especially those that hint at what an icon might have been before the world recognized their greatness.

“Pain, Parties, Work: Sylvia Plath in New York, Summer 1953”, gives a peek into the life of a legendary poet before her story truly began. The book focuses on Plath’s early years, when she was a junior editor for the magazine Mademoiselle. “Pain” humanizes Plath, and in doing so gives new depth to the tragedy of her life.

I’ll confess that I didn’t know much about Plath when I started this book. I had seen the famous photo of her, the one that featured Plath looking into the camera with ruthless eyes. I knew she committed suicide. I knew her poems expressed a complex relationship with her dead father. I knew her marriage was brilliantly troubled.

What I didn’t know was how glittering her life was as the darkness set in. The few adaptations of her life that I had seen rarely mentioned her girlhood, usually starting their story with her brilliance already established. There were references to literary mountains already climbed and linguistic battles already conquered, but no seen sweat or effort. Plath was an Athena, leaping out of the head of academia.

But at the time of her junior editorship, Plath was not terribly extraordinary. She was quick, clever, and ambitious to be sure. She loved to write and was establishing her style. Yet she was just a kid. She loved tanning, seafood, and going to the beach. She sported a bouncy bleach blonde bob and was unnerved when she couldn’t wear her best clothes. She relished the feeling of falling in love, even if the object of her affections was undeserving.

That started to change after Plath won the Mademoiselle contest. A junior editorship was a temporary position, but a powerful one. At the time Mademoiselle was one of the few places that encouraged female editors and writers to develop their voices. Plath was delighted to join their ranks for a summer. In time, however, the inconsistency of the high demand position weighed on her. She was seen as talented to the point of being threatening. Yet she was also viewed as insubstantial because she was more likely to marry and forgo her career. Plath fought for a chance to be taken seriously at the premiere fashion magazine, yet as she began working with career journalists they pooh-poohed her love of fashion.

Plath managed to take her comforts where she could. She dated a string of men and boys, went to all the best parties, and lived a generally charmed life. But the duality of her very nature kept coming to the forefront. She loved city life but seriously considered giving it up in favor of living like a hermit by the seaside. She went to great pains to make sure her hair, nails, clothes, and lips were just so, but the wild, dark depths of untamed natural spaces called to her.

This duality is succinctly realized when the book highlights just how little Plath’s friends and family knew her. Author Elizabeth Winder dots the narrative with little interviews from people who should have known her best. Yet each story from Plath’s family and friends is almost intentionally contradictory. Plath was bold. Plath was just another homesick kid. Plath had an ethereal clear-eyed vision. Plath was an awkward and strange girl. Each interviewee tells their stories with such determined certainty that it seems no one truly understood the depths of Plath’s soul.

Yet Winder’s top-notch storytelling ensures that Plath’s voice is still heard throughout the book. Even when we are frantically turning pages to see what happens next, we are often surprised by a delightful splinter of Sylvia’s life tucked in between the chapters like bookmarks. A half-finished verse that she never picked up again. Shopping and chore lists. A description of a young man who had taken her out to dinner. A touch of poetry infused into the description of an everyday scene. A simple phrase that suggests things that can only be revealed later.

As the book progresses, Plath’s lost innocence seems natural. The chances she takes get bigger, and you can clearly see her thought process. She loves the written word. But there must be a better way to live through her writing than working for a polished little fashion magazine.

Yes, it is a fascinating look into the lives of one of the best American poets. But, like Plath’s summer in New York, “Pain’s” greatest beauty is its transitory nature. The legendary figure is cooling her heels until the train arrives. The future is just on the horizon. This is one last diner sandwich, one last spoonful of caviar, one last wistful midnight dance before the great journey begins.