After reading (and loving) The Bell Jar for the first time last year, I moved on to Ariel, but quickly discovered that a poetry aficionado, I am not. Desperate for more Sylvia, I found this.
And it's perfect. The personal, and intimate moments of her journals are both inspiring and hopelessly demoralizing. There's nothing quite like reading the private musings of an 18 year-old Sylvia Plath, to really deflate one's own literary aspirations.
But there is also an unexpected joy in these journals. Here is Plath's humor, compassion, biting wit, and shrewd observations, all wrapped up in her sometimes playful, often melancholy outlook; an honest account of a troubled literary genius. It's impossible to read and remain unmoved by these pages.