A review by lucakocsis
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

dark funny fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? No
  • Loveable characters? No
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

0.75

I did not know what to expect before reading this book but I was surprised to say the least. I do not see how it is an esteemed piece of literature nor do I see the value in reading it for any demographic. Sylvia Plath's thoughts are only interesting out of context (if ever) and I can hardly believe her works are considered feminist literature. She has no respect for anyone (women included) and would have not cared about the rights and fate of any marginalized group. This book was moreso an insight to a narcissistic person's mind who provokes no emotions or sympathy from the reader. And becau e there's so many 5 star reviews I'd like to pull some of my "favourite" quotes from the book:
Then my ears went funny, and I noticed a big, smudgy-eyed Chinese woman staring idiotically into my face. It was only me, of course.

I'm not sure why it is, but I love food more than just about anything else. No matter how much I eat, I never put on weight.

Avocados are my favourite fruit.

I hate technicolour. Everybody in a technicolour movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid new costume in each new scene and to stand around like a clothes-horse with a lot of very green trees or very yellow wheat or very blue ocean rolling away for miles and miles in every direction.

I was so busy thinking how very fat he was and how unfortunate it must be for a man and especially a young man to be fat, because what woman could stand leaning over that big stomach to kiss him, that it didn't immediately realize what this student had said to me was an insult.

'Well what do you say?'
' I said Gladys was free, white and twenty-one.'

I thought the TB (tuberculosis) might just be a punishment for living the kind of double life Buddy lived and feeling so superior to people.

He could almost have been an American, he was so tan and had such good teeth, but I could tell straight away that he wasn't. 

I'd always spoil what I did so nobody would ask me to do it again.

She was a fat, middle-aged woman with dyed red hair and suspiciously thick lips and rat-coloured skin

But everything concave about Buddy had suddenly turned convex. A pot belly swelled under the thight white nylon shirt and his cheeks were round and ruddy as marzipan fruit. Even his laugh sounded plump.

'He's from Peru.'
'They're squat,' I said. 'They're ugly as aztecs.'

The face in the mirror looked like a sick Indian.

My grey suitcase rode on the rack over my head, empty except for The Thirty Best Short Stories of the Year, a white plastic sunglasses case and two dozen avocado pears, a parting present from Doreen.

I peered at him from the corner of my eye. He didn't look a day over sixteen.
'Do you know how old I am?' I said accusingly. The sailor grinned at me. 'Nope, and I don't care either.' It occurred to me that this sailor was really remarkably handsome. He looked Nordic and virginal.

Once, on a hot summer night, I had spent an hour kissing a hairy, ape-shaped law student form Yale because I felt sorry for him, he was so ugly. 

His name was Cal, which I thought must be short for something, but I couldn't think what it would be short for, unless it was California. 

Then I rode from the table, passing round to the side where the nurse couldn't see me below the waist, and behind the negro, who was clearing the dirty plates. I drew my foot back and gave him a sharp, hard kick on the calf of the leg.
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