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خاطرات سیلویا پلات

An exact and complete transcription of the journals kept by Sylvia Plath over the last twelve years of her life. Sylvia Plath kept a record of her life from the age of eleven until her death at thirty. The journals are characterized by the vigorous immediacy with which she records her inner thoughts and feelings and the intricacies of her daily life. Apart from being a keyAn exact and complete transcription of the journals kept by Sylvia Plath over the last twelve years of her life. Sylvia Plath kept a record of her life from the age of eleven until her death at thirty. The journals are characterized by the vigorous immediacy with which she records her inner thoughts and feelings and the intricacies of her daily life. Apart from being a key source for her early writing, they give us an intimate portrait of the writer who was to produce in the last seven months of her life the extraordinary poems which have secured her reputation as one of the greatest of twentieth century poets....

Title : خاطرات سیلویا پلات
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ISBN : 9789643126599
Format Type : Paperback
Number of Pages : 488 Pages
Status : Available For Download
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خاطرات سیلویا پلات Reviews

  • Tammy Marie Jacintho
    2018-10-12 08:42

    The Problem of Sylvia Plath, Her Poetry, and the Necessity of Her JournalsBecause of her suicide at the age of 30, many critics have labeled her either immature or hysterical--while other critics have taken it upon themselves to defend her integrity. Those who have championed her work find they do so at personal cost. Unfortunately, her personal life, and the circumstances surrounding her death have had an adverse effect on how she is read.Quite instinctively, one knows the implications that may be drawn when acknowledging a liking for her poetry. By announcing your admiration for Plath, you may find yourself under suspicion for morbidity, bad taste and even doctrinaire feminism.However, if you believe Plath is one of the more important poets of the 20th century and that she's had a lasting effect on lyric poetry, one cannot deny the import of her work. Although, beware, her work is seen through many lenses. Even admiring lenses can cloud one's judgment. Many admirers make the mistake of imagining Plath to be a Phaedra--a spurned woman, a dangerous woman, and a victim. But the speaker in her poetry is just as multidimensional as Plath was herself. Despite the fact that she wrote from the emotional realities of her life, one cannot stress enough, how important it is to separate the person from the creative result. It is because of this confusion between the two, that the Unabridged Journals bear the burden of illumination. They are a significant contribution to our understanding of Plath and Plath scholarship.The journals allow us to see Plath’s joyful, backbreaking work. They allow us to see the methodical revisions, the many thoughtful ways in which she crafted her poems. They allow us to see the seams and underpinnings necessary in the making of lasting poetry.Though Plath's sensibility is dark, and though she twists nature to her own effect, like so many other poets and fiction writers, there is something uncommon about her work and the strength and momentum that builds poem-to-poem. There is a forcefulness of the persona speaking through her work, and then too, there is her strong inclination toward wholeness and harmony; although, many only see the jaded and sardonic undercurrents.Yet, one of the most important aspects of her work, an aspect that has often been neglected, has to do with the idea of the spirit derailed from its source, and how that spirit is always trying to find its way back to the source. The speaker is constantly in flight, searching for a means of return. This is the dilemma of the soul. It is the dilemma of the artist in his or her calling, and that spiritual pull between the real world and the state of imagining which becomes, through physical and mental exertion, its own state. It is because of this that I maintain that Plath was brilliant and that she created her final poems with genius. Her final book, known as Ariel, was a swift achievement. Many of the poems written in the final months of her life were characterized by a propulsion, or forward momentum, a gallop toward an end. Like Shakespeare’s Ariel, the spirit of Plath’s work appears to be driven toward an understanding of enslavement and the necessity of freedom. The work speaks to the alchemy of person-hood and art formation. For Plath, this was a quest for liberation, and a means to end her suffering. There is a dichotomy between the mechanical and mathematical aspects of poetry and something outside reason. Plath merges form with associative lyricism until the scaffolding of her old style falls away and we are left with Ariel.To know Plath more closely, one may want to read her journals. They give the reader a glimpse into the ways she worked and into the associative powers of her mind. The journals allow the reader to separate the person from the persona. It gives a sense of the ordinary, and humanizes the writer. One sees the struggles she endured, in her daily life, as an imperfect person in the pursuit of her art. And it is "One Art," like Bishop's art, in its own way, so precisely crafted and yet as soon as it is mastered—lost. Unfortunately, some of her journals went missing or were destroyed. But the journals that remain allow a close reader to see some of her ideas before they appeared in print. They give a sense to how she may have approached her work. There is no doubt Sylvia Plath's art was a labor of love. Her euphoria and intensity in the creating of it is tangible. It is important to read the journals, and her poetry as it is appears on the page, and to remember, all art is artifice. All true artists create not just a world, but a mythology within which they exist. Although Plath's mythology may at times be off-putting due to a kind of forcefulness and rancor, it is a distinct voice full of human emotion. The world she creates is recognizable, but only as far as a dream may be recognizable. In truth, what we encounter cannot be Plath herself. Her final poetry is a brilliant invention, prepared by a writer in pursuit of her very best. It is a visionary form: a reality that seems more real, only because of its extreme divergence. Great poets trick their listeners and readers by making the art form feel more real. Perhaps this was her “call,” as Sylvia Plath said so herself. But the call of the reader is to recognize the trick and then to commend the art for brilliant illusions.

  • Mayra
    2018-10-13 11:32

    I decided I was going to read this for two reasons: Sylvia Plath intrigued me; and I need to write better journal entries.It is sometimes hard to wrap your head around the fact that she was so young when she wrote those journals, and constantly I had to keep reminding myself. She seemed extremely mature for her age. I found myself only reading 20, 30 pages at a time, because her words were so full of introspection, I had to continually go back and reread passages and reflect, soul-search about my own life. It was exhausting (and worthwhile).The first half of this book is absolutely remarkable. Especially for being just a journal. After she married, however, I think her tone changed. Her journaling was permanently altered. She made herself so little when compared to the “great Ted Hughes”. She refrained from “nagging” him, but he could nag her, because of his “superior seat”. Out of the pair he was always the better, bigger and smarter in her eyes. Her feminist words of before were somehow not put into action, and she became rather submissive and accepting too much of his behavior and betrayals. I understand her position and era of misogyny, but after being so entirely compelled by this woman’s words, I can’t lie here and say her submission didn’t bother me.The introspection halted and her diaries started resembling a drone list of clipped everyday happenings and to-do lists. The student Sylvia was interesting, incredibly eloquent and contemplative; alive and iridescent, even at her worst depressions. The working, married Sylvia was washed out and colorless. But that’s when she wrote her most important masterpieces. So I suppose she just transplanted her magic from journaling to higher purposes.This book was a long, tough read. Took me forever to finish. But it was more than worth it. Sylvia Plath was something else. Her words transcend journaling.

  • Madeline
    2018-09-26 10:22

    "So it all moves in a pageant towards the ending, it's own ending. Everywhere, imperceptibly or otherwise, things are passing, ending, going. And there will be other summers, other band concerts, but never this one, never again, never as now. Next year I will not be the self of this year now. And that is why I laugh at the transient, the ephemeral; laugh, while clutching, holding, tenderly, like a fool his toy, cracked glass, water through fingers. For all the writing, for all the invention of engines to express & convey & capture life, it is the living of it that is the gimmick. It goes by, and whatevere dream you use to dope up the pains and hurts, it goes. Delude yourself about printed islands of permanence. You've only got so long to live. You're getting your dream. Things are working, blind forces, no personal spiritual beneficent ones except your own intelligence and the good will of a few other fools and fellow humans. So hit it while it's hot."Jesus. My college diaries don't sound like that, let me tell you. But of course, Sylvia Plath has always operated on another level entirely, and her journals prove nothing else, it's that Plath was in a category by herself. The newly-unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath are a fascinating and intimate look into her life and her mind - and at the same time, the reader is kept mostly at arm's length. For every page where we see Plath grappling with her depression, or her anxieties about writing, or her complex relationship with Ted Hughes, we have to wade through hundreds of pages that are nothing but Plath describing who she spent the afternoon with and what they wore and what the room looked like (As a writing exercise, she would record everyone's outfits and physical details of the places she visited - I'm sure it helped her as a writer, but for a reader, it's a maddening slog). And even though this book contains hundreds of pages' worth of journal entries that were previously kept out of the public eye (thanks, Ted), this is far from a no-holds-barred tell-all. Many of Plath's journals have been destroyed, and Plath went through long periods where she didn't do any diary-keeping at all. So we get to read her college journals up until July 1953, and then there's nothing until 1955 - so anyone going into this book expecting raw, emotional entries written after Plath's suicide attempt in August 1953, and her last year at Smith following her hospitalization, will be disappointed. (I freely admit that I'm one of these ghouls - the first time I read The Diary of Anne Frank in elementary school, I was genuinely disappointed that the final entry wasn't written as the Gestapo were raiding the attic)At over seven hundred pages, this book requires a lot of commitment. Even die-hard Plath fans will find themselves struggling to stay invested - the downside of reading real diaries is that there's never anything resembling a plot to keep the reader interested, unless that plot is "we're hiding from the Nazis" or something like that. But if you stick with it, there's a lot to discover. I identified very strongly with the college entries, because it's a lot of "what am I supposed to do with my life/am I actually talented/when am I going to get a boyfriend" that will be very, very familiar to anyone who remembers that period of their lives. Plath also writes frankly about what it's really like to make a living as a writer - once she and Ted are married, they're both constantly sending stories to magazines, working on their books, and applying for writing fellowships. Plath is always reminding herself to write more in her entries, setting goals for herself like "write for two hours every day" or "finish ten poems and send them to publishers." It's a very realistic depiction of what it actually means to be a writer. The most interesting part, for many people, will be after Plath marries Ted Hughes. I didn't know much about their married life, aside from the fact that Ted was responsible for fucking up a lot of Plath's poetry collections after her death, and the way Plath writes about their marriage is really interesting. She fucking adored Hughes, and she seemed to really love her role as a housewife - she's always baking cakes and throwing dinner parties, and at times it seems like she enjoyed being an author's wife more than being an author herself. She believed that Ted was the real talent, and seemed very happy to play second fiddle to him (so it's a delightful irony that Plath is now the more famous name, while Ted Hughes is known primarily as "Sylvia Plath's jealous husband"). As I said earlier, their relationship was complex. Plath freely acknowledges in her diaries that Ted is a surrogate father figure for her, and there's a section where she realizes Ted is cheating on her and is devastated. Throughout the book, you can see Plath struggling with her own personal demons, and trying to push back at the depression and anxiety that eventually killed her. In a way, I appreciated how long this volume is, because it allows you to see that Sylvia Plath was more than just a writer who killed herself. She had good days and bad days, she was complicated, she was happy and sad and scared and angry, and she was alive. "I must reject the grovelling image of the fearful beast in myself, which is an elaborate escape image, and face, force, days into line. I have an inner fight that won't be conquered by a motto or one night's resolution. My demon of negation will tempt me day by day, and I'll fight it, as something other than my essential self, which I am fighting to save: each day will have something to recommend it...Minute by minute to fight upward. Out from under that black cloud which would annihilate my whole being with its demand for perfection and measure, not of what I am, but of what I am not. I am what I am, and have written, lived, and travelled: I have been worth what I have won, but must work to be worth more. I shall not be more by wishful thinking."

  • Apryl Marie
    2018-09-18 08:30

    There were moments reading this book that I had to put it down because the feelings are so vivid you feel like an intruder. There are quotes from her journal that decribe in dark detail the feelings that I am sure many women feel as they are on their own for the first time, falling in love, broken hearted, scared of failure, married, alone...Loved this book.

  • Catherine Roehl
    2018-10-07 07:14

    It's astounding how much I relate to Sylvia in these journals. I think all feminine beings need to read this. Her entries are honest and raw: revealing her sensitivities, obsessions, routines, insecurities...More intimate than any of her poetry books, Plath's journals offer greater insight into both her personal and literary struggles.This book is of great value to me: and I'm sure I will continue referring to it for many years.

  • Miss Ravi
    2018-10-08 10:21

    اندوه و افسردگی در سفیدی میان خطوط، کلمه‌ها و تاریخ‌های این کتاب رخنه کرده‌اند. از اولین یادداشتی که سیلویا پلات در ژوئیه‌ی ۱۹۵۰ نوشته تا کمی قبل از خودکشی‌اش در ۱۹۶۳ چیزی شبیه یک افسردگی کشنده و ناتمام جریان دارد، مثل آبی گل‌آلود که اول آرام و راکد است اما بعد نیرو می‌گیرد و به سیلی ویران‌کننده تبدیل می‌شود. سیلویا پلات بی‌واسطه و بدون تغییر نه‌چندان فاحشی همان دخترکی است که در حباب شیشه، خواننده را تا مرزی از سقوط در ظلمات می‌برد پس نمی‌توان در قلمرویی که خودش را عریان و عاری از هر نقابی نشان می‌دهد، انتظار افسردگی و نفرت و سیاهی را نداشت. نوشتن احتمالاً شبیه بیماری است. یک رنج پیوسته و برای تاب آوردن این بیماری باید مرهمی وجود داشته باشد. یک تسکین. برای سیلویا پلات این تسکین چاپ شدن داستان/ شعرهایش در نشریات معتبر آن سال‌هاست و چرا او که مدام میان این‌که چقدر خوب می‌نویسد یا اصلاً چرا می‌نویسد؟ در جنگ است به اندازه کافی مورد توجه نبوده؟ این حالات ناخوشی، طرد کردن نوشتن و میل برای فرار از کلمه‌ها و تبدیل شدن به یک آدم معمولی که کار کارمندی می‌کند و نوشتن برایش باری به هر جهت است،‌ لذت‌هایش بی‌مایه و دغدغه‌هایش مسخره‌... گاه و بی‌گاه او را به فکر می‌اندازد که همه‌چیز را کنار بگذارد اما این راه‌حل نه قطعی است و نه آرام‌بخش.باران ریز سرد افسردگی روی سرم، وقتی که حتی فکر نوشتن قصه‌ای به سرم می‌زند. هیچ‌چیزی سیلویا پلات را نجات نمی‌دهد. نه همسرش که در انتهای زندگی زناشویی به او خیانت می‌کند اما آدمی است که معنای جنگ‌های درونی را می‌فهمد و نه دکترش که سعی می‌کند ریشه‌های نفرتش را پیدا کند. نه مادرش که ارتباطش با او عجیب‌وغریب است... چیزی در درون او هست، چیزی که خودکشی را، نابودی خود را برایش اجتناب‌ناپذیر می‌کند. چیزی شبیه یک حفره‌ای سیاه، قیرمانند، یخ‌زده.خوشحال بودم که جز نویسنده شدن کار دیگری از دستم برنمی‌آید ولی حالا نویسنده هم نیستم. حتی یک جمله هم نمی‌توانستم بنویسم: ترس و جنون مرگبار مرا از پا انداخته.دنیا باید خیلی وحشتناک باشد، وقتی دیگرانند که تعیین می‌کنند تو که هستی؟ نویسنده‌ای یا نه. استعداد داری یا نه. نوشته‌ات به دردبخور هست یا نه؟ لایق زندگی هستی یا نه؟ دنیا اغلب اوقات وحشتناک است.

  • Gary
    2018-09-25 03:37

    This is the book that introduced me to Sylvia Plath. Her poetry and 'The Bell Jar' would follow. I came to appreciate her love for just writing. She can make the most mundane interesting. To truly have a complete picture of Sylvia Plath, 'The Journals' are integral. One of my great thrills was to visit Smith College, and meet Karen Kukil and actually pick up and read the actual journals. In the Mortimer rare book room, I was also able to see the drafts of her poems written on the pink Smith College stationary. To read the Journals for me was to get closer to the real Sylvia Plath, and away from the sensationalized version. Highly recommended for anyone interested in Sylvia Plath.

  • Giss Golabetoon
    2018-09-27 11:23

    اين كتاب كادوى تولد نه سال پيشم بودو امسال خوندمشترجمه عالى كتاب تحسين برانگيزهاما حذف هاى زياد خواننده رو اذيت ميكنهالبته افسردگى پلات هم خوندن كتابو سخت ميكنه ولى اينكه اين همه سال خاطره نوشته و وقتى خاطراتشو ميخونى انقد بهش احساس نزديكى ميكنى انگار كه زندگى خودته خيلى قشنگه

  • Swetha
    2018-10-01 03:20

    "I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot discard your own life with objective curiosity." The quality that predominantly stands out in Sylvia Plath's writing style is that as you are reading, she becomes you and you become her. A swap of souls takes place. Your life story is voiced in her words. Your fears, apprehensions, doubts, cravings, yearnings and all such introspections that are intimate to you alone are structured into wild erratic sentences that are delivered so powerfully that it takes some time to clear your mind again. She becomes the soul sister you have just found. If there's one author who has had the same effect on me in the past, it is Victor Hugo in Les Misérables. (Seriously, what is not there in that book?) Writing is a way of expression, among other things, and Sylvia knows how to express. At first, I was a little hesitant to read this memoir as I figured it would amount to trespassing as it was published posthumously but now I am sneakily glad I did it because her writing is the friend that I needed. It comforted me with companionship. "It seems to me more than ever than I am a victim of introspection. If I have not the power to put myself in the place of other people but must be continually burrowing inward, I shall never be the magnanimous creative person I wish to be. Yet I am hypnotized by the workings of the individual, alone, and am continually using myself as a specimen."She lived a life in which her work was rejected constantly. She doubted herself often, wondered if she could write a damn thing worth while, but wrote relentlessly and compulsively everyday. She criticized her own work with much anguish which is just painful to read but also, relatable. Most people believe that she is one of those authors who became popular only because of her suicide. When you search Sylvia Plath and add a space next to her name, 'poems' pop up as the first suggestion on Google and not 'death'. I consider that a testament by itself. Admittedly, I was so moved by her writing that she was my phone's wallpaper for a couple of days. I can see how this can be a treasure for those who truly love her. We receive a first hand experience of her thoughts. Some of her entries made me say 'Oh! Sylvia!' while some 'Oh Sylvia.'. There are entries that are just weather reports but even those made me submerge. Although her writing is poignant even when she was happy, it's just drop dead beautiful. Reading her thoughts on authors like Virginia Woolf, Henry James, Capote, D.H Lawrence and many others was a delightful treat. It's not often that we come across how authors who are no more felt about other authors. She uses words in block letters every now and then which suggests how strongly she must have felt while penning it down. "WHY DON'T I FEEL SHE LOVES ME? WHAT DO I EXPECT BY "LOVE" FROM HER? WHAT IS IT I DON'T GET THAT MAKES ME CRY?"Also I'd like to praise the editor as she has done a fabulous job with her research. There's an entire section of Notes at the end of the book about all the people mentioned. You don't need to be a lover of Sylvia Plath or have any previous experience to appreciate her journals. You will fall for her writing as easily as a child craves some extra candy. It breaks my heart to know that her journals ended because she took her life and not because the pages in her book ran out.. "What am I afraid of? Growing old and dying without being Somebody?If only she knew the number of her quotes that are tattooed on people's bodies in permanent ink!

  • Alex ☣ Deranged KittyCat ☣
    2018-09-26 07:38

    I will not rate this book. It's too hard for me to finish reading. I feel like I'm intruding. I love memoirs, but this is not one. This is a collection of raw feelings/thoughts. Would Sylvia Plath have published her diaries, had she survived? Would she have changed them before publication?

  • Cheryl
    2018-09-16 11:32

    The individual is an independently acting, and responsible, conscious being--rather than what labels, roles, stereotypes, or preconceived notions the individual fits. This is what existentialists will tell you. This year I've decided to add diaries and journals to my list of memoirs I love reading because while some prefer the philosophical observations of researched psychology, anthropology, and even social biology, I prefer examining the unalterable part of humanity that we deem the human condition, through the individual. The things one learns by reading words so personally written without the intention of being published...With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone, it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second, you have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand…hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Yes, this is autobiographical literature, but it is more than that. It is a personal thesis; a lecture on life, love, literature and individualism; a glance at mental oppression; an examination of gender roles; an artist's canvas.Very ambitious, Plath was: "I am made, crudely, for success." She was a poet before she was anything else, this is what I think as I read her words. Poetry is in the cadence and rhythm of her flow, even as she writes in her journals, you hear the music. Still, she feared that she wasn't a good enough poet (wonder how she would have felt had she known her collection would win the Pulitzer). She felt like she couldn't make enough money as a poet, so she turned to prose. The Bell Jar was an autobiographical account mentioning the leave of absence she took from college after having a mental breakdown.You live night and day in the dark cramped prison you have made for yourself. And so on this day, you feel you will burst, break, if you cannot let the great reservoir seething in you loose, surging through some leak in the dike. You don't read this book for cohesiveness because there is no such thing when it comes to one's private thoughts, is there? Instead, it is a collection of narrative vignettes. A story of a young writer, a young wife, a student and teacher, a woman who loved Dickens and James, one who wanted to make it big. She wanted to see her name with the greats. Unfortunately she didn't live to see herself pronounced one of the greats. Maybe this is one of the best parts about this journal: you get to see a soul in all its rawness. On the other hand, it is saddening, for, "liberty, self-integral freedom, await around the corner of the calendar." Around the corner is also hope from despair: the optimism that no matter how bad things get, they could always get better.Plath struggled with depression. She wrote about fearing her own mind. Her journals, however, don't go into great lengths about anything leading up to her tragedy--just in case you fear this-- and this is partly because her husband (amid controversy) refused to publish some parts of her journals (read the Unabridged Journals for more that is not present in this edition). However, she does go into her fears: fear of being seen as promiscuous while men her age were free to live; fear of not being loved enough; fear of being married and losing her creativity (Esther also struggles with these fears in The Bell Jar ). "I dislike being a girl, because as such I must come to realize that I cannot be a man. In other words, I must pour my energies through the direction and force of my mate. My only free act is choosing or refusing that mate." This she ends up doing with her husband, Ted, whose poems she typed and edited. She always thought him a better writer than herself, and she even seemed to place him on a pedestal. In the end, he betrayed her, but we don't get to see those journal entries because he omitted them. At the end of her marriage is when she wrote Ariel, the poetry collection said to be her best. Now I can't wait to read it.See each scene deep, love it like a complex faceted jewel. Get the light, shadow & vivid color. Set scene the night before. Sleep on it, write it in the morning.

  • brook
    2018-10-11 03:22

    it is a chilling experience to read this. if you keep a journal of your own you probably understand how odd it is to imagine people around the world curling up with it/them. i am a self-admitted voyeur so i couldn't resist this glimpse into her mind. as always, ted had a say in what we (and more importantly, her children) would know of her:"I destroyed [the last of her journals] because I did not want her children to have read it (in those days I regarded forgetfulness as an essential part of survival)"yes, it is disappointing to know those words are forever lost. fortunately she has other ways of guiding us through the darkest portals of her mind, and i am grateful for the challenge of the journey.

  • Onaiza Khan
    2018-10-09 04:17

    Sylvia captured her emotions and inner struggles beautifully and narrated everything with such impeccable honesty that it is hard not to like her. She seems to me a very evolved person and I do feel bad that she decided to leave the world so soon. This book has led me to introspect and look into myself for the emptiness and negativities that a person usually ignores. I believe it is very important to understand one's true self and this journal really helps one in doing so.

  • Rebecca McNutt
    2018-09-24 08:35

    Sylvia Plath has been an alluring figure in both history and pop culture for decades, both because of her dark, vivid writing and because of her mysterious suicide. These non-fiction journals are about as close to her mind as anyone will likely ever get.

  • Cherie
    2018-10-04 07:40

    I share a slightly less articulate piece of Plath's soul.

  • Sarah Hosseini
    2018-10-04 11:25

    ،کتابی رو سراغ ندارم که نویسنده ش انقدر دقیق و هنرمندانه و عمیق، تمام کلام و احساساتی که همیشه می خواستم بگم ولی از ترس گرفتار شدن به دام ابتذال هیچوقت نتونستم رو به زیبایی نوشته باشه. حدود پونصد صفحه س و مسلمن جزئیات خسته کننده هم توش هست ولی بخش گسترده ای از کتاب بیان آشفتگی ها و تشویش هاییه که هر زنی -هر آدمی- با دغدغه پیشرفت و درجا نزدن و فرار از جمود و رخوت هر روزه ممکنه بهش دچار بشه. خود پلات اسم کتاب خاطراتش رو گذاشته بود: دیوان رویاها، دستورها و ضروریات. می دونم در آینده بارها و بارها میرم سراغ این کتاب.

  • Lightreads
    2018-10-14 11:30

    This just in: Sylvia Plath's journals? kind of a downer.Also disorganized, vast, incredibly rich. I enjoyed the early college years the most, when she's all casually fantastic writing and cycling ecstasy and alienation. The later stuff is heavier with self-consciousness and deeply frustrating relationships with men. She's one of those people that I would be friends with and love dearly, but every year or so I would lose it and snap "oh just fucking deal with it," at her.But man could she write. Worth it just for a week of deep, oceanic reading, coming from nowhere and going everywhere.

  • Ruby Granger
    2018-09-22 04:14

    This should be at the top of everybody's reading list...

  • Sarah
    2018-10-13 04:19

    ورژن epub من سه هزار صفحس، تو اين هفتصد صفحه حرفايي كه در دويست صفحه اول نوشته شده رو سه بار هر بار با تغييرات خيلي جزئي خوندم. پلات به شدت از دنيا طلبكاره، به دفعات حرفاشو تكرار ميكنه، و خيلي از تجربه هاي مشترك زنانه صحبت ميكنه، از اين منظر بسيار شبيه فروغ خودمونه به نظر من، پر از احساسات سركش، عواطف و احوالات زنانه ... پلات از كسايي بود كه فكر ميكردم ميتونه انتخاب امروز من براي بعدها باشه، از اون نويسنده ها كه الان پيدا ميكني و تا آخرِ زندگيتو به قبل و بعد تقسيم ميكنن؛ ولي فهميدم نه، پلاتم نه!

  • Marios
    2018-09-27 08:12

    http://www.myvideo.ge/?video_id=3812080:02 Beginning theme, comforting, like her first diary entries, sounds to me like: it is, it is gonna be ok, it is, it is gonna be ok..."...I love people. Everybody. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me...I have to live my life, it's the only one I'll ever have."00:22 and the theme repeats, but a little stronger this time, more emotional, deeper bass, deeper her love for life:"...I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life"00:40, the pace slows, in her journals the first shadows, signs of depression, contemplation:"Yes there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness, is horrible and overpowering -"01:02 tempo is rising, as her spirits, she has a nice life to look forward. College begins, dates, dreams of her perfect man. It seems...01:18 IT IS, it is gonna be ok, beginning theme comes again, symbolizes her first writing recognition. She is offered scholarships, money, she has a relationship."...I am not ugly, not an imbecile, not poor, not crippled...I am going for hardly any money at all to one of the best colleges. I have earned $1000 by writing. Hundreds of ambitious girls would like to be in my place. They write me letters... Five years ago if I could have seen myself now, I would have said: That is all I could ever ask!"But then... 01:36... a realization dawns on her"...and there is the fallacy of existence: the idea that one would be happy forever and aye with a given situation or series of accomplishments. Why did Virginia Woolf commit suicide? Or Sara Teasdale..."Something is wrong with her too, she feels it, the dream of a happy life gets shattered, pounded again and again by strong bass piano chords all leading to November 3, 1952: "I am afraid...I want to kill myself, to escape from responsibility, to crawl back abjectly in the womb. I do not know who I am, where I am going - and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions"1:55. Beginning theme emerges but stops, only the first notes are played, leaving the statement unconcluded. Is it gonna be ok?Is it?Is it?24 August 1953, she reaches for the bottle of pills...

  • Susan Katz
    2018-10-10 04:15

    This is a book that would probably be best read the way it was written, a page or two at a time over a period of years. Roughly 700 pages at one gulp can be an overdose. Plath is a good writer and a perceptive and intelligent woman, but living inside her head for very long isn't comfortable even for an observer. Knowing the ending in advance, of course, gives the reader an edge on Plath and adds an unintended layer of irony to many entries and an involuntary little shiver to comments like "I desire the things which will destroy me in the end."

  • Solange te parle
    2018-09-28 03:17

    Traces d'une femme qui peine, et s'en sort bien.

  • Hadrian
    2018-09-29 06:41

    I feel like an intruder reading this.Incredibly vast and intricate, even her ordinary accounts of days are almost as eloquent and forceful as her poetry.

  • Robledo Cabral
    2018-10-01 06:14

    6 estrelas, se eu pudesse. Mudou a minha vida.

  • Christina Bouwens
    2018-10-03 07:24

    A real pot-boiler! Certainly, this is a dense collection insofar as it is highly evocative of a time, a place, a woman in crisis -- her emotions, thoughts, conflicts roar off the page into a reader's heart. Anyone curious about Sylvia Plath as not only a poet, but a woman of the 50s, and perhaps as a feminist icon or a psychological study will be sorely mistaken not to delve into this collection. Plath was a phenomenal woman of the past mid-century, and such a loss to the literary world. Her journals read in such a way that one feels as if receiving insight and the very personal secrets of a close friend -- a friend celebrating the highs of life as well as the darkest depths of despair. Reading this collection, I realize that journaling is a literary form in its own right, and no matter how desperately Plath wanted to become a celebrated prose writer, it is her journal-writing as well as her poetry which made her name, and rightly so. She was an incredible writer, and a remarkable woman of the 20th Century.

  • Cristina
    2018-10-05 09:18

    Reading this... changed the way I think. I know and understand that Plath has been over-romanticized since her tragic death, but these journals are the undeniable evidence of her poetic genius. Plath found beauty in everything, and her descriptions of internal and external experiences are absolutely stunning.I highly recommend this to anyone interested in Plath, poetry, mental illness, women writers, etc.

  • Veronica
    2018-09-22 10:32

    "The most terrifying realization is that so many millions in the world would like to be in my place."

  • Kirsty
    2018-10-15 07:22

    In this new edition of Sylvia Plath's Journals, edited by Karen V. Kukil, the Associate Curator of Special Collections at Smith College, ‘an exact and complete transcription of the journals kept by Sylvia Plath during the last twelve years of her life’ has been included, and ‘there are no omissions, deletions or corrections of Plath’s words in this edition’. Her journals, says Kukil, ‘are characterized by the vigorous immediacy with which she records her inner thoughts and feelings and the intricacies of her daily life’. She goes on to explain the way in which, ‘Every effort has been made… to give the reader direct access to Sylvia Plath’s actual words without interruption or interpretation’.The main body of the diary spans from its beginnings in July 1950 to 1959, and the appendices stretch up to 1962, the year in which Plath committed suicide at the age of thirty. The entirety is unabridged, and has been taken from twenty three original manuscripts in the Sylvia Plath Collection at Smith College in Massachusetts. They document her ‘student years at Smith College and Newnham College, Cambridge, her marriage to Ted Hughes, and two years of teaching and writing in New England’.Journals contains a wealth of new material, all of which was sealed by Hughes until February 2013. The journals have been split into separate sections, each of which spans a different period in the poet’s life. Photocopies of her journal pages have been included at the start of every one. These show the progression of her writing, and are really a lovely touch to add to the wonderful whole. Two sections of glossy photographs can also be found within the book’s pages. As one would expect with such a bulk of work, the notes section and index are both extensive.The first journal, dating from when Plath was just eighteen years old, opens with a poem by Louis MacNeice, and two quotes written by Yeats and Joyce respectively. The first entry which Plath writes reads like an echo for much of her life: ‘I may never be happy, but tonight I am content’.Throughout her journals, Plath is so warm, full of vivacity, and strikingly original. In an entry in the first journal, written in August 1950, she writes: ‘I love people. Everybody. I love them; I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I’ll ever have’.Each and every entry is filled to the brim with musings, philosophy, emotions, questions and answers. Plath is so very honest, and incredibly witty too. When speaking about a dentist removing her wisdom teeth, she says: ‘The doctor pinned the bib around my neck; I was just about prepared for him to stick an apple in my mouth and strew sprigs of parsley on my head’. Some of the entries reflect upon her day, and others are small self-contained essays about a veritable plethora of subjects. Amongst other things, she touches upon such topics as literature, love, communal living, politics and the notion of democracy, and then burrows into each one of them in turn, providing the reader with her insights into and musings of each. Some of the vignettes included are so very charming. The following occurred whilst Plath was looking after a family of three children over the summer of 1950:“Your hair smells nice, Pinny.” I said, sniffing her freshly washed blonde locks. “It smells like soap.”“Does my eye?” she asked, wriggling her warm, nightgowned body on my arms.“Does your eye what?”“Smell nice?”“But why should your eye smell nice?”“I got soap in it,” she explained.Plath’s writing, as anyone who has read even a single one of her poems will know, is absolutely beautiful. Her descriptions particularly are gorgeous: ‘The two lights over the front steps were haloed with a hazy nimbus of mist, and strange insects fluttered up against the screen, fragile, wing-thin and blinded, dazed, numbed by the brilliance’, and ‘The air flowed about me like thick molasses, and the shadows from the moon and street lamp split like schizophrenic blue phantoms, grotesque and faintly repetitious’. Throughout, she makes the everyday entrancing, and notices the positive and beautiful qualities in everything which her words touch upon, however much we may take the element in question for granted in the modern world. The scenes which she builds are so vivid.The importance of Plath’s art is prevalent immediately: ‘Perhaps someday I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow’. Poems have been included throughout, all of them placed into the volume in the order in which they first appear in her journals. It goes without saying that each and every one is perfect, startling and exquisitely crafted. At times, she provides a fascinating commentary upon her own writing, beautifully analysing her own finely wrought sentences.Plath was such an intelligent woman, and throughout she writes with such clarity, even in the earliest journal entries. She both praises and chastises herself and humankind – for example, writing ‘I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!’ There are hints of the growth of her coming depression too. She writes in 1950, for example, that ‘I have much to live for, yet unaccountably I am sick and sad’. Plath also continually muses on life and death and the vast chasm between the two, as well as the very notion of existence: ‘Edna St. Vincent Millay is dead and she will never push the dirt from her tomb and see the apple-scented rain in slanting silver lines, never’, and ‘I loved [Antoine de Saint-] Exupery; I will read him again, and he will talk to me, not being dead, or gone. Is that life after death – mind living on paper and flesh living in offspring?’The Journals of Sylvia Plath is a book to be savoured, and is a wonderful companion to the stunning Letters Home, another Faber & Faber must for any fan of the poet. Both books are sure to delight without a doubt. In them, Plath provides us with a window into her world, and her journals particularly are written in such a way that it feels as though we as readers are her closest confidantes. Nothing is hidden from us, and each and every entry drips with verity. Even the biggest of her fans will learn swathes from reading this beautiful and important book.

  • Lily
    2018-10-11 04:13

    Sylvia Plath’s journals are an eye opening education. It’s a remarkable insight into a brilliant, unique mind. Her writing encourages me. Her doubts, her fears, the things that made her vulnerable and scared or soft and happy. She was intelligent and sophisticated and ahead of her years. Her mind was so complex and and yet had so much depth. I can say I’m haunted by the things she wrote and how relatable they are. It’s an absolute must read for anyone.

  • hayatem
    2018-09-28 08:28

    سلفيا بلاث كاتبة، شاعرة، وروائية، وقاصة . تعد واحدة من أكثر الشعراء المثيرين للاهتمام في الشعر الأمريكي. عكست أعمالها الكثير من سمات الطبيعة التدميرية التي انطوت عليها .عاشت حياة عاطفية شائكة مع والدتها ، وبدت حانقة عليها، توفي والدها وهي في الثامنة من عمرها ما ترك أثراً عميق في داخلها . درست في جامعة كامبردج بمنحة من برنامج فولبرايت للمنح الدراسية. وتزوجت من زميلها الشاعر المثير تيد هيوز، و أنجبا طفلان : فريدا، ونيكولاس. شخصت بالاكتئاب الذي عجل من إنهاء مسيرة حياتها في وقت مبكّر جداً، و ذلك بعد عدد من محاولات الانتحار الفاشلة . أذكر منها : في أعقاب علاج بالتشنج الكهربائي، قامت بلاث بأول محاولة انتحار موثقة طبياً، في نهاية آب 1953، عندما زحفت تحت منزلها وتناولت هناك الحبوب المنومة التي تخص والدتها. عُثر على بلاث ونقلت إلى المستشفى وتلقت العلاج بالصدمة الكهربائية." أنا شريرة، مريضة : متأخرة أسبوعاً واحداً. لكني سأنجز 5صفحات في اليوم حتى أتمكن من استدراك ما فاتني ، مهما كان صعباً. استخدمي الكلمات كما يستخدم الشاعر الكلمات . هذا هو الأمر!" عانت سيلفيا بلاث في نشر قصائدها ، وأعمالها المختلفة ، حيث واجهت تحديات مع الناشرين والنقاد، كما سردت في يومياتها عن مرضها ودخولها المصحة لتلقي العلاج النفسي. تجربتها الأدبية كانت قصيرة في العمر و متخمة في آن ، اذ انتحرت في عمر الثلاثين.اشتهرت بشعر الاعتراف.من أهم أعمالها الشعرية والأدبية بوجه عام: العملاق ، شجرات الشتاء، عبور المياه، آرييل، والقصائد المتجمعة التي حازت عنها بعد وفاتها على جائزة ال بولتيزر . ورواية "الناقوس الزجاجي ." وهي أقرب للسيرة الذاتية، نشرتها تحت اسم مستعار "فكتوريا لوكاس"، في نفس العام الذي رحلت فيه 1963. "تحكي عن فتاة أمريكية تقضي الصيف في نيويورك عاملة في مجلة نسائية، عن عودتها إلى بلدتها في نيوإنكلند وإنهيارها النفسي الذي يتبع ذلك، في مناخ أحداث سنوات الخمسينيات ، من إعدام آل روزنبرغ والحملة المكارثية ، إلى الحرب الكورية وأحداث المجر. أصبحت الرواية واجبة القراءة للفتيات بالطريقة نفسها التي أصبحت فيها رواية سالنجر " حارس في حقل الشوفان" للفتيان المراهقين المزاجيين . نقلها المخرج لاري بيرس إلى السينما عام 1979، في فيلم من بطولة مارلين هاسلت وجولي هاريس" —المترجم .من افتتاحية بلاث ل رواية الناقوس الزجاجي: “كان صيفًا غريبًا خانقًا، الصيف الذي صعقوا فيه أهالي نوزينبرج. ”يوميات مليئة بالكثير من القراءة، والدراما، والذاكرة الفوتوغرافية، والعاطفة الصاخبة.