Sylvia Plath published The Bell Jar in January 1963 under the pseudonym Victoria Lucas, one month before her death. It was reissued under her own name in 1966 and has been in print ever since. The novel is one of the most widely read accounts of depression and mental illness in American literature, and one of the most formally accomplished – a book whose dark subject is rendered in prose that is funny, sharp, and exhilaratingly alive even when what it describes is not.
Esther Greenwood is nineteen, from Massachusetts, brilliant, and the winner of a guest editorship at a New York fashion magazine. The novel opens in the summer of 1953, when the Rosenbergs were executed and Esther is in New York for her month at the magazine. The magazine world, which should be glamorous, feels hollow to Esther, who cannot find a reason to want any of the things it offers.
After returning home, Esther is rejected from the writing program she had planned to attend for the summer. With her plans collapsed and no structure to fill the space, she begins to deteriorate. She cannot sleep. She cannot read. She cannot write. The depression she has been living alongside for years moves into the foreground and takes over.
The novel follows Esther through a suicide attempt, hospitalization, electroconvulsive therapy, and gradual, incomplete recovery. It ends with her preparing to leave the hospital and resume her life, uncertain but alive. The ending is not triumphant; it is provisional and honest.
The title refers to the experience of depression as Esther describes it: as being trapped under a glass bell jar, cut off from life, watching it continue outside through the glass without being able to participate in it. The air inside the jar is her own, recycled, increasingly stale. The image captures both the isolation of depression and its self-perpetuating quality: the depression makes the isolation worse, which makes the depression worse.
Plath uses this image sparingly; its power comes from the precision with which it names an experience that many readers recognize and that few accounts of depression had named so accurately before this novel.
Esther narrates from a retrospective position, sometime after her recovery, looking back at the worst period of her life. This retrospective stance gives the narrative its particular quality: we know from the beginning that Esther survives, which transforms the reading experience from suspense to something closer to witnessing. The humor that runs through the novel comes from this distance; Esther can be funny about her past suffering in ways that are not disrespectful of it but are honest about the absurdity that accompanies catastrophe.
Her voice is one of the most distinctive in American fiction: observant, quick, capable of sudden precision, and interested in everything even when she cannot bring herself to care about anything.
Plath was a poet, and the prose of The Bell Jar carries her poetic training in its imagery, its rhythms, and its capacity for the startlingly right description. She writes depression not as a gray undifferentiated fog but as something with specific textures, specific sensations, specific forms. This specificity is what makes the novel so valuable to readers who have experienced depression and so illuminating to those who have not.
The Bell Jar is essential reading for anyone interested in mid-century American women’s experience, in the history of mental health treatment, in Plath’s work, or in any novel that confronts suffering without sentimentalizing it. It remains one of the most honest accounts of a mind at the edge of itself, and one of the most beautifully written.