COURTESY MORTIMER RARE BOOK ROOM Sylvia Plath works on her typewriter perched on a stone wall in Yorkshire, England in 1956. Someone has been calling to me as of late, and that person appears to be Sylvia Plath. Her voice is much more assertive than I imagine she would have used during her short life and it insists I read, love and share. (So you know, she is not concerned with the order in which I pursue these). Currently, The Death and Life of Sylvia Plath and The Bell Jar rest by my bed waiting for me to take them in each night. I find the biography difficult, revealing and troubling. The Bell Jar reads like silk through my hands. Loving it, I am. ‘I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart: I am, I am, I am.’ ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 20 These two books do compliment one another. Although unnerving, the biography gives the reader a good insight to the novel. Ironically, The Bell Jar is a mirror of a time in Sylvia’s young personal life. Plath uses the ...