Saturday, February 14, 2015

Happy Valentine's Day!

Went to bed and woke up celebrating appropriately with "Sometimes Madness Is Wisdom," about that oh-so-Romantically-dysfunctional duo, Scott and Zelda.

 
 
Other favorite literary Valentines:

Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes
 
Anne and Kayo Sexton
 
Vivienne Haigh-Wood and T. S. Eliot
 
(Wound up my Valentine's Day by buying a bio of the tormented female half of the last couple at my favorite used book store up the street.)
 
p.s. Why was it always the woman going mad in these relationships? You could say that Vivienne was not her husband's equal, talent-wise. I think Zelda Sayre was definitely her husband's equal, though unacknowledged and constantly tamped down by Fitzgerald, actually forbidden by him, with the complicity of her psychiatrists, to write about her own life for fear that (1) it would "excite" her too much, and (2) that her writing about her own life would interfere with Scott's desire to incorporate her own thoughts/life into his writing, which he'd done constantly, often verbatim. (This is the sickest thing of all--his argument was that since he made the money in the family from his writing, that he had the right to HER thoughts as well as his.)
 
Plath, a more profound poet than Hughes, though he received the accolades while she was alive and married to him (after SHE, with her early East Coast US literary connections, ensured that he was published in America). Sexton's husband was a non-literary businessman and supportive, while violent.

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