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A womans life, erupting with brilliance and promise, is fissured by betrayal and the pressures of duty. What had once seemed a pastoral family idyll has become a trap, and she struggles between being the wife and mother she is bound to be and yearning for so much more. The woman in question is Sylvia Plath in the final year of her life. As Plaths marriage to Ted Hughes unravels, Sylvia turns increasingly to writing to express her pain and loss, yet also her resilience and power. She has decided to die, but the art she creates in her final weeks will set her name, and the world, ablaze.
This is my second fictionalised novel of Sylvia Plath, I didn‘t really enjoy the first and I‘m bailing on this one at 11%. I‘ll just keep Sylvia in my head I think.