Re/discoveries

February 9, 2016 By: The Editors

A forum for short reviews of republished modernist literature, works in translation, and more.

March 6, 2025 By: Debra Rae Cohen

If literary radio studies, in its first couple of decades, anointed a hero, it was probably Hilda Matheson. The first Head of Talks at the BBC, not only an accomplished bureaucrat but a practical theorist who developed the style of “intimate address” by which the broadcaster artificially produced the impression of naturalness, Matheson was a perfect candidate for celebration: lover of Vita Sackville-West, booster of literary broadcasting, martyr (or so the story goes) to the patriarchy, as represented by Director-General Sir John Reith,

May 12, 2023 By: Ian Afflerbach

In 1932, Tess Slesinger published her most famous story, “Missis Flinders,” a bracingly candid look into the mind of a woman in New York City returning home from her abortion. Slesinger’s story—inspired by her own decision to terminate her pregnancy that year—does not fit neatly into the rhetoric that surrounds our ongoing political and legal debate over women’s reproductive rights. During the Great Depression, economic scarcity meant that abortion, if still illegal, was not policed or stigmatized as bitterly as it would be in earlier or later decades. Neither simply “pro” nor “anti,” Slesinger’s tale instead explores the psychological afterlives of this experience for one woman, trying to reconcile her decision with the feelings that linger after, with her identity as an intellectual, and with her husband’s own intellectual insecurities.

April 20, 2023 By: Ria Banerjee

The bad side of books, Lawrence says, is “the beastly marketable chunk of published volume,” the “miserable tome” as an object, “the actual paper and rag volume of any of my works,” “a bone which every dog presumes to pick with me” that “delivers me to the vulgar mercies of the world.”

December 21, 2022 By: Hannah Voss

H.D.’s HERmione opens with a meditation on the past, courtesy of her daughter, Perdita Schaffner. In H.D.-like prose, Schaffner reprimands herself: “Don’t delve and dredge. Cut down on nostalgia, that too can be insidious.”

August 9, 2022 By: Benjamin Kahan

Alice Mitchell’s 1892 murder of her lover Freda Ward rocked their well-to-do Memphis community and scandalized the nation. The masculine Mitchell slashed Ward’s throat in broad daylight when Ward decided not to marry Mitchell. Lisa Duggan has provided the richest account of the murder to date and has exhaustively detailed the way that it was sensationalized in the period press as “a Very Unnatural Crime,” representing “a new narrative-in-formation—a cultural marker of the emergence of a partially cross-gender-identified lesbian.”

August 2, 2022 By: Lisa Tyler

In 1927, a disapproving Edith Wharton presciently pronounced Harry Crosby “a sort of half-crazy cad.” Ernest Hemingway, who spent the summer of 1927 in Pamplona with Crosby, once told Archibald MacLeish, “Harry has a great, great gift. He has a wonderful gift of carelessness” (Wolff, Black Sun, 171). Crosby is a liminal figure hovering in the background of modernist literature—a now largely forgotten poet whose work inspired MacLeish and an aesthetically sophisticated publisher whose Black Sun Press published Hart Crane’s epic poem The Bridge, Short Stories by Kay Boyle, and the first excerpts of James Joyce’s Work-in-Progress to appear in book form. Ben Mazer’s Selected Poems by Harry Crosby brings Crosby’s poetry out of the background of literary modernism and into the foreground for our examination.

June 13, 2022 By: Carey Snyder

For many interwar writers, the women’s suffrage movement was a force as powerful as the war itself in shaping modernity. In her undeservedly forgotten novel The Call (1924) , Edith Ayrton Zangwill takes up the history of both suffrage militancy and the war, chronicling their impact on women’s professional, political, and personal lives. The novel tells the story of a young chemist, Ursula Winfield, who is initially more absorbed in questions of science than in questions of women’s rights. She...

May 13, 2022 By: Elizabeth F. Evans

H. G. Wells may be most famous in modernist studies for Virginia Woolf’s suggestion that he doesn’t belong among the “moderns.” Yet Wells was vitally engaged with the features, futures, and controversies of early twentieth-century life, as his varied oeuvre makes clear. If his science fiction has kept Wells a household name, it is in his social romances that we see him at his most perceptive as an observer of modern everyday life. Socialists and suffragettes are among the characters of Ann Veronica: A Modern Romance (1909), a novel that grapples with roles for women in a time of rapid social change. Previously out of print in the US, and with no scholarly edition available anywhere, Ann Veronica was overdue for rediscovery. Carey J. Snyder’s edition of the novel provides an incisive introduction, illuminating notes, and judiciously chosen contemporary documents that enable readers to appreciate Wells’s contributions to the debates of his age and to our own.

January 18, 2022 By: Chris Roulston

In 2020, Penguin Classics reissued Dorothy Strachey’s Olivia (1949), which tells the story of a sixteen-year-old girl from London sent to a French boarding school on the outskirts of Paris, Les Avons, where she falls passionately in love with one of her teachers, Mlle Julie. Olivia is an exceptional narrative in terms of its content, its composition, and its publication history. Strachey (1865-1960) was part of the prominent Strachey family, whose father played a key role in the development of the British Empire in India as a military engineer. Dorothy’s five siblings included Lytton Strachey, author of Eminent Victorians (1918); James Strachey, translator of Freud’s English Standard Edition; Pernel Strachey, who became principal of Newnham College, Cambridge; Pippa Strachey, who became Secretary of the London Society of Women’s Suffrage; and Marjorie Strachey, a writer and French teacher. Dorothy, not to be outdone, became the official English translator of the eminent French author, André Gide.

October 21, 2021 By: Amanda Golden

When it comes to writers’ lives, what remains is fragmentary and incomplete. In her 1963 novel The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath’s protagonist Esther Greenwood refers to such remnants as “the tatty wreckage of my life.” The image of Plath in popular culture is linked to her poetry, but often emphasizes her suicide. Red Comet addresses these assumptions as it sheds new light on Plath’s cultural moment and relevance today. Any biography must confront the fact of an incomplete archive.

September 30, 2021

Spoiler alert. Just before Stan Emery, the tragic embodiment of youthful excess in John Dos Passos’ glittering Manhattan Transfer, dies in an apartment fire, he looks out onto the cityscape of Manhattan and says, “Kerist I wish I was a skyscraper!” (255). For each reader of the novel, the line will stand out. It hits the eye, a solitary line after a set of song lyrics and before a paragraph break.

August 20, 2019 By: Ian Whittington

If “expansion” has been the watchword of the past two decades of modernist studies, as Rebecca Walkowitz and Douglas Mao have it, we could be excused for identifying Peter Kalliney’s Commonwealth of Letters: British Literary Culture and the Emergence of Postcolonial Aesthetics (2013) as a signal instance of this trend. [1] The operating principle of Kalliney’s monograph is one of extension: of the geographic edges of modernist cultural production; of the chronological boundaries of the movement; of the range of cultural forms that might be brought under scholarly scrutiny; and of the forms of attention that might be applied to systems of literary influence, promotion, distribution, and debate. Post-Bourdieusian, institutionally-focused, closely-read, globally-minded, belatedly-modernist: the approach signaled by Commonwealth of Letters appears at once invigorating and emblematic of recent shifts in the field. Not yet seven years old, this volume already seems ripe for a forum on “Re/discoveries” not only because it captures the energies of its expansive scholarly moment, but because it has already had a considerable impact on multiple branches of the literary-critical tree. Count my own sub-field of radio studies among those branches that felt the shake: Kalliney’s 2007 article in PMLA, “Metropolitan Modernism and its West Indian Interlocutors: 1950s London and the Emergence of Postcolonial Literature” (which laid out some of the key arguments of Commonwealth of Letters and forms the core of its fourth chapter) has quickly become a touchstone for scholars working at the intersections of media and global anglophone literature, as evidenced by a surge of recent work in the field by Julie Cyzewski, Daniel Ryan Morse, James Procter, Leonie Thomas, myself, and many others.

April 11, 2019 By: Maggie Gordon Froehlich

Zelda Fitzgerald’s Save Me the Waltz has gone in and out of print since it was first published by Charles Scribner’s & Sons in 1932. It was brought back in 1967 by Southern Illinois Press, and it appeared later in the Collected Writings of Zelda Fitzgerald, edited by Matthew Bruccoli and with an introduction by Mary Gordon, from University of Alabama Press in 1991. Handheld Press’s reprint comes at just the right time, following a great flourishing of works—from biographies to a streaming...

March 24, 2017 By: Stuart Christie

However much we may agree or disagree with the modernist English literary critic, William Empson—or, at times, even scratch our heads at him—it is generally accepted that he was a marvel. He possessed a decidedly unbridled critical talent, one that emerged fully only once the globalization of modernist literary production and art intersected with a corresponding epistemological demand: th

October 18, 2016 By: Josh Epstein

Is listening the constitutive act of modernity? It seems so. Thanks to a flood of scholarship on aural culture in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century—Emily Thompson's The Soundscape of Modernity (2002) , Jonathan Sterne's The Audible Past (2003), and a 2011 special issue of American Quarterly (edited by Kara Keeling and Josh Kun) being just three examples—the act of listening has worked its way into the texture of cultural studies generally and modernist studies specifically.
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Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath by Heather Clark

October 21, 2021 By: Amanda Golden

Volume 6 Cycle 2

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Cover of Clark, Red Comet
Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath. Heather Clark. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2020. Pp. 1152. $40.00 (cloth); $20.00 (paper).         

When it comes to writers’ lives, what remains is fragmentary and incomplete. In her 1963 novel The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath’s protagonist Esther Greenwood refers to such remnants as “the tatty wreckage of my life.”[1] The image of Plath in popular culture is linked to her poetry, but often emphasizes her suicide. Red Comet addresses these assumptions as it sheds new light on Plath’s cultural moment and relevance today. Any biography must confront the fact of an incomplete archive. Ultimately, for Heather Clark in her unparalleled Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath, shortlisted for the Pulitzer Prize in Biography, materials—from typescript drafts to recollections in interviews—become anchors for telling a life story. Clark’s expertise as a scholar of poetry and Irish literature also distinguishes her account of Plath’s life from those that precede it and makes Red Comet of particular interest to students and scholars of modernism.

A central feature of Clark’s biography is its readings of Plath’s lesser known and widely anthologized poems. Red Comet draws new attention to the lyrical skill that Plath demonstrated in her juvenilia. Analyzing the early poem, “Snow,” dated 1940--when Plath was eight or nine--in a manuscript book now in the Morgan Library in New York, Clark observes that Plath “likely delighted in her paradoxical imagery—the blanket of cold snow keeping the town warm—as well as her use of repetition to achieve perfect trochaic tetrameter in the first stanza’s last line” (44). By the time Plath published her first book of poems The Colossus in 1960, Clark concludes that “a master draftswoman has begun to paint abstracts” (615).

Clark’s careful work sifting through a wealth of archival resources is inseparable from her treatment of Plath’s poetry and her life. While Red Comet benefits from the Letters of Sylvia Plath published in two volumes in 2017 and 2018, it also devotes considerable attention to the unpublished letters Plath received, a necessary companion to the letters she sent. Plath’s correspondence, as well as her unpublished early diaries, poems, school papers, notebooks, and calendars, are invaluable in Clark’s reading of Plath’s poetic development.[2] Clark’s extensive research in Plath’s archives also informs her reassessments of previous scholarship. For instance, when approaching Plath’s early poem, “I thought that I could not be hurt,” Clark notes that it has been read by “[p]revious biographers . . . as a piece of verse that foreshadows Plath’s future neuroses” (90). Working from Plath’s diaries, Clark reassesses the significance of the moment that inspired this poem. In doing so, she underscores the satisfaction that Plath found in “using ‘experience’ to create poems” (90). As a result, Clark points out, “placed back in its original context and read through the lens of Sylvia’s own diary description, it stands out as a creative experiment and an artistic turning point” (90). In this instance, Clark stresses Plath’s efforts to define her own style, gaining more control over her voice as a visual artist and writer.

Clark chronicles Plath’s development as a writer alongside her development as a reader. The scope of Red Comet enables a new sense of the arc of Plath’s reading over time and the way that influences build and make a gradual impact throughout her career. This is particularly the case with regard to modernism and Irish literature. While the epigraphs that Plath inscribed in her college journal were published in the abridged edition of The Journals of Sylvia Plath (1982) and The Unabridged Journals (2000), for instance, Clark is likely the first scholar to point out that each of the quotations that Plath selected are from Irish writers, James Joyce, Louis MacNeice, and W. B. Yeats (138). Red Comet also attends to Plath’s early reading of modernist poetry. In high school, Plath compiled an American Poetry anthology that included the work of “H.D., Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, T. S. Eliot, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Edgar Allan Poe, Ezra Pound, Walt Whitman, Carl Sandburg, Sara Teasdale (who had the most entries with five poems)” (110). H.D. and Amy Lowell, whose poem “Patterns” was the subject of an essay Plath composed during her first year at Smith College, are among the modernist women writers whom critics have addressed less often in relation to Plath. Clark observes that in her paper, “Plath noted that at first the poem’s ‘patterns’—the ornate garden with its precise paths, the young woman in her ‘stiff, brocaded gown’—seem innocuous” (216). Plath’s essay shifts in tone, becoming increasingly feminist as she considers the limitations that the speaker faces. Plath explains that “as the poem progresses, one senses the growing rebellion which this woman feels against patterns and one realizes that it is really the stiffness of convention which is symbolized throughout the poem by the stiff, correct brocade, the bones and stays, and each button, hook, and lace” (quoted in Clark, 216). 

In the chapters that follow Plath’s graduation from college, readers gain more of a sense of her changing relationship to the poetry landscape at midcentury. One vital resource is a trove of notes and interview recordings that Harriet Rosenstein collected in the seventies for a biography she did not finish. These materials, acquired by the Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library at Emory University in 2019, include the recollections of those who encountered Plath at various points in her life. Of interest to poetry scholars is Rosenstein’s interview with M. L. Rosenthal, who introduced the term “confessional poetry” in his review of Robert Lowell’s Life Studies (1959). Plath famously audited Lowell’s Boston University poetry workshop with Anne Sexton in the spring of 1959. Rosenthal, we learn, “had recommended that Macmillan publish The Colossus, which he thought ‘very good’” (625). When Plath and Hughes saw him at the home of the poetry critic A. Alvarez in 1961, Rosenthal, “Hughes, and Alvarez initially did most of the talking, but Plath ‘brightened up’ when Rosenthal began speaking about his ideas regarding ‘Confessional’ poetry” (625). He remembered that “[w]hat she was interested in and what she talked about quite a lot was the question of putting yourself right into the poem. And the problem of aestheticizing it, of transcending the material, of getting beyond the personal. We agreed about that: it could be done, it had to be done, it wasn’t worth it unless you get past the personal” (625). This anecdote presents a rare glimpse of Plath inserting herself in a discussion of ideas she may have been contemplating in relation to her own work.

In her later chapters, Clark provides fresh interpretations of Plath’s verse, including the poems she wrote in the final days of her life. Plath dated the poems “Balloons” and “Edge” February 5, 1963, six days before her death on February 11. As Clark observes: “Readers have long expressed amazement that she could have written such dissimilar poems on the same day. One is a cold, expressionist portrait of a dead mother and her dead children, while the other describes Plath’s own happy children in her warm, cheerful living room. However, the poems are more connected than they appear” (870–71). While critics have devoted less attention to “Balloons,” Clark sees it as a poem of foreboding and fear: “Sweetness and light give way to explosion, diminishment, and violence. Plath cannot protect her children from the wounds they will suffer” (871). In this instance, and throughout Red Comet, Clark reconsiders poems that readers may have overlooked. She reminds us of how much more there is to read, underscoring the range and accomplishment of Plath’s career.

Red Comet is a magisterial biography that will undoubtedly inspire future interest in Plath’s poetry, midcentury culture, and the creative process. Clark has sorted the “tatty wreckage,” giving voice to the remains and the state in which they appear. She is consistently attentive to the personal and psychological implications of Plath’s experiences, reconsidering their role in her development as a writer. As a result, Red Comet crafts a story of Plath’s life that possesses the complexity of art.


Notes

[1] Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (New York: Harper Perennial, 2005), 169.

[2] These early materials are primarily housed in the Lilly Library at Indiana University and her later manuscripts are held in the Mortimer Rare Book Collection at Smith College (MRBC-MS-00045).