Silly Covers for Lady Novelists
Fatema Ahmed
The first edition of The Bell Jar to appear under Sylvia Plath’s name was published by Faber in 1967, with a cover designed by Shirley Tucker. This month Faber have brought out a 50th anniversary edition of the novel (it was first published by Heinemann in 1963 under the pseudonym Victoria Lucas), with a cover about as far from Tucker’s Bridget Rileyish concentric circles as you can get: a stock photo from the 1950s of a woman with a powder compact. As Dustin Kurtz, a marketing manager at Melville House, tweeted, ‘How is this cover anything but a “fuck you” to women everywhere?’ Andy Pressman, a graphic designer, called it ‘Awesomelycomicallyhistorically inapprop’, adding: ‘And by “historically” I mean “incorrect on a scale of which we have few historical precedents”, not “That typeface didn’t exist in that era”.’ You don’t need to have read the novel to see what the problem is; the blurb on the back of the offending cover makes it clear enough: the narrator, we are told, ‘grapples with difficult relationships and a society which refuses to take women’s aspirations seriously’.
I was lucky with the way I came to Plath, reading her work before I knew anything about her life or reputation, or had access to the internet. The edition of Ariel in my school library (one of the last books of ‘modern’ poetry on the shelves) had no biographical note or, if it did, it wasn’t memorable. I read it the same way I read Donne’s Songs and Sonnets, my other ‘discovery’ of the time. Then the other collections of poems, then the The Bell Jar, which sent me to Anne Stevenson’s biography – not what I wanted at all, though I should have suspected something was up from its title, Bitter Fame. Once I realised that there were very many other people interested and invested in Plath and her writing (and that some of them – dear god! – were other teenage girls) it was one more thing to avoid. But I haven’t forgotten Esther imagining herself sitting in a fig tree, watching the fruit ripen, fall and rot because she can’t choose one. As she says later, ‘If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I’m as neurotic as hell.’
It should be possible to see The Bell Jar as a deadpan younger cousin of Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer, or even William Burroughs’s Naked Lunch. But that’s not the way Faber are marketing it. The anniversary edition fits into the depressing trend for treating fiction by women as a genre, which no man could be expected to read and which women will only know is meant for them if they can see a woman on the cover. (Things are slightly better for lady authors in the US.)
I can imagine complaining along these lines in an editorial meeting at a British publishing house, and being sighed at: ‘Yes, of course the 1960s cover is beautiful – I love it – but Waterstones and Tesco won’t stock it.’ It sounds like a reasonable point. And it may be true that paperbacks with photographs of people on them shift more copies in supermarkets. But it isn't as if The Bell Jar has to earn out its advance. And for some reason the rule doesn't apply to recent anniversary redesigns of Orwell (by David Pearson for Penguin) or B.S. Johnson (by La Boca for Picador). Lucky them.
Comments
Personally I see The Bell Jar as the 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman.'
Pitching The Bell Jar to readers of chicklit (if you'll forgive the expression) is so crazy, it just might work.
I agree with this post in general, but I think that with Plath studies, the waters get muddied quite quickly when we consider how her biography impacts on the way we read the work. Frankly, I was happy to see F&F choose this covering image because it does look "user friendly" and while it wouldn't look out of place beside a Marian Keyes book on a Tesco shelf - it's refreshing to see the novel marketed in a way that doesn't reinforce the reader's perception that this is a "suicide book" or writing it drove Plath over the edge.
Someone may pick up this book thinking it will be a nice glossy read - and parts of TBJ are glossy and glamorous! It is a vastly complex novel that engaged with lots of subjects, but the cover image does fit with Esther Greenwood's experiences in New York - the expression on the female's face alludes to something darker going on... It may not be a "serious" cover but it does encourage readers to think of the novel differently, and for new readers - it may influence a completely different perception of the novel.
Plath criticism is so riddled dark analysis... "Is this why she completed suicide?"... It strangles the work. So while I do agree that there are larger concerns about how female writers and readers are pandered to - I think in Plath's case, it was quite brave of F&F to put out such a user-friendly cover.
Er... Like these? Or these? (Not very flattering, that last one.)
Regardless of whether Plath was or wasn't interested in her appearance, this is, in terms of the design itself, a poor representation of the book. And the typeface probably should not have existed in any era, frankly. It says frivolous, yes, but it says frivolous in a way that is awkward and not suitable to any literary frivolity that occurs to me very readily. (Would you want that font on your Wodehouse?)
It's true that almost any comparison between the cover of the first edition and a reissue these days is going to be unfavorable, but that doesn't mean it doesn't bear pointing out.
It isn't hugely aesthetically pleasing but I admire F&F for concentrating on something different in Plath's novel than the usual dark covers or a photograph.
I give up, you can keep the kettle already.
But there's always Ogden Nash for a quick recovery.
The Plath cover is not a special case, it is just one of many unpleasant covers presented by Faber. Worse again is the quality of the books they produce. At a time when the physical book is under attack, they should think about the need to appeal to several senses.
Perhaps it would help if we just referred to Plath as a 'novelist' or 'author'.
Thanks so much -
Esther Greenwood
Another thing; one of Plath's working titles for the novel was "The Girl in the Mirror."
As for needing a fluffy cover to be stocked by Waterstones or any other major book sales outlet, the grim and gruelling covers for the bestselling likes of Kathy Reichs, Karin Slaughter and Tess Gerritsen say otherwise.