>>Lady Lazarus by
Sylvia Plath
Fair warning, I’m going to be discussing the topic of
suicide pretty heavily and the darker elements that go with it. Keep that in
mind while you read.
Lady Lazarus is a
show of power. Not necessarily just of the feminine persuasion, but as a whole.
Maybe it’s made better by the fact a woman is putting these words to paper, who’s
to say. But the fact remains that Lady
Lazarus is a terrifying narrative. When you focus on the idea of Plath
flexing some kind of proverbial power, you don’t need to look any further than lines 79-81.
Herr
God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware
(Norton
Anthology, 1420)
What could be a bigger display of
power than challenging God or the Devil himself? In the poem, Plath evokes this
idea of an almost otherworldly being, someone that has died three times and
still comes back for more each and every time she’s resurrected. It’s put even
more into perspective when you think about Plath’s first suicide attempt.
Whether by choice or by complete accident, she managed to survive. She rose up
from that which would have claimed her the first time. It definitely adds this
sense of morose power to her writing; She may not have liked that she survived,
but she did, and continued to thrive afterwards. Like she had temporarily
beaten down her own demons. Granted she did ultimately take her own life, but
the time in between seems like a good time for her. At least in the terms of
his poem.
Or, alternately, she feels
powerful in the fact that she can control her own well being and her own fate. She
could choose to take her life at any time, and yet she doesn’t. She rises from
the proverbial ashes every time, renewed with her decision for another few
moments of respite. No one can make the decision for her, she is ultimately in
control of the fact of whether she lives
or dies. That in and of itself gives her the feeling of power she lives; she
can reinvent herself however she sees fit. In this case, she is both the Lady
Lazarus and the “Jesus” that revives her. She is her own maker, and the one to
undo herself. It brings a little extra weight to the passage I mentioned above;
she fears neither God nor the Devil, because they are not the masters of her
fate when she ultimately holds the killswitch in her hands.
This one was a little personal
for me from my own experiences. The idea that Plath is exercising the power of
her own fate drives home the reality of people who have considered something
like suicide before. They hold everything in the palm of their hands, whether they
choose to go through with it or not The choice will always be theirs, and there’s
nothing anyone can do to stop them. In a way, I think this was Plath’s way to
try and help herself feel better about it all. Her marriage wasn’t exactly the
best, and her life hadn’t always been peaches. I think this is how she held her
own power; she looked at what she could do with her own hands, reminded herself
that she still held power somewhere, when everything else seemed to be outside
of her control. Maybe that’s what ultimately lead her to try and succeed on her
second try. It was about power and control, the two things she never had
before.
Moving on, I think it’s time to
go back to the original passage. Like I said before, this is Plath showing her
own power where she feels none. The image of this Lady Lazarus, rising up out
of one of humanity’s biggest atrocities, is practically overflowing with the
idea of untamable power. The power to defy death and those around you. The
biggest pat to remember, though, is that she doesn’t change. Look at lines 31-34
and you’ll see what I mean:
These
are my hands
My
knees.
I
may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless,
I am the same, identical woman.
(Norton
Anthology, 1419)
Plath doesn’t come back as a
different woman. She doesn’t try to change some aspect in some kind of bid to
make herself survive longer this time. Maybe to fare better in the world around
her. No, she stays herself. She shows the longevity she has, the unwillingness
to change in the face of adversity. She still has control over everything this
way, and she doesn’t even want to change herself. She views herself as just
right for this powerful narrative. Lady Lazarus is exactly as she should be. More
importantly, she doesn’t present herself as a man. She shows her power as a
woman, unwilling to bend to what is expected of her. She projects the idea of a
strong woman, something to be reckoned with, that not even a man could do
better than her. She is rising from the ashes of her relatively shattered life
at the hands of her cheating husband, and emerging as this new, powerful being.
She is unstoppable in her own mind. He will never have the power over her life
that she herself does.
Bringing it all together is the
idea that, on a broad spectrum, this is Plath’s statement of her power. She is
this Lazarus figure, the only thing that truly holds sway over her life. Her
marriage was in shambles at the hands of her cheating husband. She had no power
over what was going on around her, she couldn’t change anything that was
happening. So this idea of Lady Lazarus, of this all-powerful figure that bowed
to no man, to no great threat or even death itself, was like a comfort for her.
She even enforced the idea that she was the master of her won fate, ultimately
taking her own life in her hands.
When you read the poem with this
context in mind, it brings to light a different kind of understanding It brings
up feelings of unbridled power, but also something almost melancholy. It’s sad
to think that she may have written this as an outlet for the one this she
couldn’t deal with: her own life. She had to take solace in the fact that she
could end it at any point. She clung to the idea that that was the only control
she had over anything. And to think, she ultimately ended up taking her life in
the end. In short, Lady Lazarus was a brief explosion of power, of good
feelings, for an otherwise downward spiraling woman.
Works Cited
Plath, Sylvia. "Lady
Lazarus." 1961. The Norton Anthology: American Literature. Shorter
8th Edition ed. Vol. 2. New York City: Norton, 2013. 1418-1420. Print. 1865 to
the Present.
I appreciate your analysis of how she doesn't really change, even though we get the Lazarus and Phoenix imagery--she is a master of control both before and after her acts. I wonder, though, how much she really could control her own life. As you point out in the end of your post, she felt like she only had control over her on existence. It's interesting to consider the context in her family and broken marriage, and on a broader scale, too. How much power and control did most women have over their own lives during this time period?
ReplyDelete