Book The Fortieth

Ariel by Sylvia Plath

I don’t get Sylvia Plath. I mean, sure, there are some killer lines in her poems, but they’re usually carefully hidden in the middle of self-indulgent, unintelligible dross. And if I want that, I have my life.

Still, worth wading through for the good bits…

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1 Comment

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One response to “Book The Fortieth

  1. Worth wading through? – You Lie!

    You’re not going to get me read Plath with your sweet-talking, or Hughes!

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