Saved by The Bell Jar: A Feminist Critique

Artwork by Carlos Quinteros

DISCLAIMER: 

I just finished the book, definitely recommend it, and of course, have thoughts. I don’t want to spoil this work for anyone else reading, so read my takes at your own discretion. 

Now, I haven’t gotten the chance to deeply read multiple analyses on this work, listen to video essays, or even discuss my thoughts with others so everything I write here are my initial thoughts, and solely that. 

My introduction to Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar  began a couple of weeks ago and I was not disappointed. While I didn’t expect all the racism, I also didn’t expect to feel connected to the journey and ramblings of a depressed privileged middle-aged white woman… that’s the power of literature though. 

Let me back up, the premise of the novel follows Esther Greenwood, a talented and ambitious young woman, as she struggles with mental illness, societal expectations, and her own sense of identity. Throughout the novel, she is grappling with her own insecurities and self-hatred, longing for freedom and security in herself, but feeling like she falls short in every aspect. There’s multiple incidents of her looking at a mirror and being disappointed in the reflection that she sees. Her inner voice often says things like:

“If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed” (62). 

“I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions” (63).

And, those two quotes are on basically the same pages, which goes to show how each and every chapter, even a single page, can have its own full-blown analysis. The novel evokes so many emotions, moments of self-reflection, and waves of existential dread that I can’t possibly do it all justice here, so instead I want to hone in on one passage that lingered with me. 

The passage that struck a chord and stayed, was: 

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 Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat 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.

This metaphor is a moment of reflection regarding the indecision and doubt that comes with facing choices. The time that you take observing all the different branches you can choose can leave you overwhelmed because of all the possibilities you have. Esther wants, she yearns, she craves for more because she sees all the potential within her and from what society has told her. Yet, she is unable to decide in fear of losing the rest of the figs, but the result of that fear is none of the figs being chosen. All her potential amounts to nothing in the end and her fear becomes actualized as the figs wrinkle and plop to her feet.

There’s a version of her that is a wife and a mother. There is a version of her that has her dream career and excels professionally. There is a version of her that is an adventurer. There are versions of her that she can’t even make out because they seem so unattainable and she dare not even dream of such versions. Then, there is THIS version of her that wants it all, but is paralyzed to her fears. 

For many, this is what it's like being a young adult, in your 20s, and going through life. There are all these overwhelming possibilities in your future, and all these different directions you can take and this is the time that you are responsible for making decisions on it. 

You are told that this is the time to build yourself up, make the right choices and “be the best version of yourself”. That’s a hard thing to ask… because from all the versions that Esther dreams of, the thing that causes her indecision is not knowing which one is the best. That’s how indecision works typically. You can’t be confident in yourself and your choices because you don’t know if it is the best one. For Esther yearns to be something and for that something to be the best. 

For me, it stuck, because I am the same. To be anything but the best, isn’t worth it. It’s difficult when you see all this potential in yourself, know and feel you can do more, but the results don’t match because you feel like you can never just be enough. That’s where Esther’s insecurity lives, and that’s where the indecision comes from. If she felt like she was enough, was secure, and that regardless of what she chose she would end up being the best and happy then maybe she would be able to pick a fig— to make a decision. But, all she sees is the what-ifs, her wasted potential, and that no fig would ever be enough to satisfy her longing to be this best version of herself. That is why she can’t make a decision, in fear of making the wrong ones. 

That is one aspect of being a young woman and uncertain. But then there is another, and the more optimistic interpretation. It’s not about making the right choice, the best choice, but about making a choice. In order for her not to starve to death, all she has to do is pick a fig. What she fails to see, is that picking one fig doesn’t mean not ever being able to pick another fig. 

There are going to be so many moments when you feel utterly lost, especially when it comes to decisions about your future. But, life is funny like that; when you feel like the sky should be shaking apart with thunder and lightning to match what’s happening in your own head, you’re faced with a clear day and a light breeze. You will make mistakes and pick figs that you are unsure about, but that is not the finite end. You can nourish the figs you picked, the tree may grow even more figs, or maybe you are the metaphorical tree and can’t be limited to just one fig. Or, one version. 

What Esther couldn’t see, and what maybe we forget too, is that you don’t always have to choose just one fig. You can be a mother and an adventurer, a poet and a professional. Maybe not all at once, maybe not in the way you first imagine, but life allows for reinvention and multiplicity.

You will grow and change, and even in your darkest moments of insecurity, doubt, and paralyzation… all you need to do is try. Because, often, the fear in your head is just that and reality is much kinder and graceful to your bad decisions. 

For me, the fig tree lingers because it reminds me that choosing matters more than perfecting. 

xoxo, 

Khushi Kumari