Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar is a sharp, poignant exploration of a young woman’s descent into mental illness, set against the backdrop of 1950s societal pressures. Through Esther Greenwood, Sylvia Plath crafts a story that is as relatable as it is haunting. At its core, it’s a tale about feeling out of place in a world that seems to have no shortage of expectations but little room for individuality.
Esther starts off as a promising, ambitious young woman living what many would call a dream life—working as an intern at a fashion magazine in New York City. But as the story unfolds, we see the cracks forming: the disconnect between what’s expected of her and what she truly feels. Sylvia Plath’s writing is exquisite, balancing lyrical beauty with an honest, unflinching look at the chaos of a mind under pressure.
The metaphor of the bell jar is one of the novel’s most enduring images. It captures the suffocating, isolating nature of mental illness in a way that feels vivid and universal. Esther’s struggles don’t feel confined to her time or situation—they resonate with anyone who’s ever felt trapped by their own thoughts or weighed down by the pressures of society.
My favourite quote from the book is the following, and I find it extremely relevant to not only my life situations, but those of others as well, who feel a bit in the chaos of a world full of dreams and expectations. It goes as such:
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig-tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and off-beat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig-tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet”
And just like the fig tree in the story we often find our own lives branching out before us like a fig tree. And just like Esther Greenwood we become paralyzed by the overwhelming pressure of choice. Choices that linger under pillow cases, behind street corners or in the backseat of the car. Choices that we have to make every single day and that ultimately form our lives.
And instead of picking one of the many figs, we let ourselves starve. Perhaps because we are too afraid of becoming only one thing. Labeled and stuck in that one box forever.
Yet for all its heavy themes, The Bell Jar is not without humor. Esther’s observations about the people around her, the absurdities of social norms, and even her own predicament are laced with dry wit. This blend of sharp critique and emotional depth keeps the book engaging, even in its darkest moments.
While The Bell Jar is often discussed in the context of Sylvia Plath’s own life, the novel stands on its own as a work of fiction. It’s deeply personal yet universally relatable, and its themes of ambition, identity, and resilience are just as relevant today as they were when it was published.
This is a book that stays with you. It’s thought-provoking without being preachy, emotional without being melodramatic. Whether you see it as a study of mental illness, a critique of mid-century gender roles, or simply a beautifully written story, The Bell Jar has something to say, and it’s well worth listening to.
Love, V
