When I was in graduate school, a fellow poet asked if I would mind being interviewed for a critical paper addressing Sylvia Plath’s continuing influence on contemporary women poets. I immediately agreed—partly because my ego requires that I accept any and all opportunities to be quoted, and partly because, although I knew I felt a kinship with Plath, I wasn’t (I’m still not) exactly sure why. Although I’ve read both The Colossus and Ariel, Plath’s prose—namely The Bell Jar—was what stuck with me most. And not because I ever struggled with a similar mental instability, but because when I first read it (and here is my embarrassing confession of the day) I was so jealous of the “novel’s” writer heroine. (And I use “” because it is such a thinly veiled autobiography). She was winning prestigious awards, scoring prestigious internships, and just generally gaining in writerly prestige. Sure, she was descending into a mire of depression, but did I mention all the prestige?

Yeah…. I was pretty misguided right after college. But on the other hand, my “jealousy” was also kind of motivating. I remember thinking that if Sylvia Plath was writing about being rejected by an esteemed writing course, then that must mean that anyone could be rejected. And if Sylvia Plath was struggling to deal with life in New York, then maybe it wasn’t so bad that I didn’t go to college there. When I wasn’t jealous, I identified with the protagonist’s struggles to figure out how she fit into the world as a woman—get married, act proper & polite, or take job “befitting” a woman, as a secretary or stenographer. Like I said, I was just out of college, so I was asking myself all the same “what do I want to be when I grow up” questions. (The older I get, I find I’m still asking myself these questions, I just answer from a different vantage point.)

So, anyway, my experience of Sylvia was always very me-centric—and had surprisingly little do with her actual poetry. But I guess that’s not all that surprising, unfortunately. First of all, Sylvia became such an icon for women writers (and women?) that, as a woman, she could be your icon just by knowing her story—and not her writing. She struggled with depression—and of course she did (or so, angsty young feminists might say): she was married, raising children, and trying to live up to 1950s upper-middle-class expectations of women—all while also trying to be an artist. Woe! Her death echoed as a cry for help among all us. Give us liberty or give us death! Hoorah! But I don’t think that’s what she intended, and I don’t think that’s what she would have wanted. Would anyone want to be famous because they were in pain? It’s kind of cruel actually. When you’re depressed, you sometimes think that the world would be better off without you. By aggrandizing Sylvia’s death, I wonder if, in a way, we reinforce that point? Would she be less important if she hadn’t died? Would we have gotten the point if we couldn’t superimpose her life story onto her art?

Ah… I’m being cynical. Because then I think about the work. And I think the reason why the poems are so brilliant and why they resonate with so many women is not because we can read her life story in them (although we can), but because, as much of herself as she put into each poem, Sylvia always allowed enough room for the reader to put herself in as well. The poems are at once deeply personal and deeply mysterious. Her images are dark, slippery, haunting, visceral, and at times completely elusive. I have to chuckle when people talk about Sylvia as “confessional” because, honestly, (here comes another potentially damning confession) sometimes I just don’t “get it.” I wonder how it’s possible to confess anything in language weighted with so much metaphor and allusion. Sometimes it’s the political references, sometimes the abstraction of images. Sometimes, I just feel a little lost.

But here’s the thing: I once had a mentor who said that people need to worry less about “getting” it and more about feeling it. And that’s never a problem with Sylvia. As I said, I’m re-reading Ariel (actually reading the Restored Edition, and no matter how opaque some of the poems) I’m always feeling it: anger, frustration, irony, rapture, awe, humor. I’m feeling it. Each poem is a barrage of emotion—Sylvia’s and mine—so artfully, imaginatively rendered.

Considering that amazing artistry, along with the political and personal context of her poems, the question of why talk about Plath is replaced by the question of why not talk about her more? Or, perhaps, why not about her work more? So, this Thursday, I’m looking forward to talking about Sylvia Plath – not in a National Enquirer/Paris Hilton sort of way; I’m looking forward to really digging into her poems, poking around the places that I don’t “get” but that I really really feel, and figuring out how they work, why they work, and what I can learn from her.

The event will feature 24 poets representing 12 different journals from throughout New Jersey, as well as a few immediate neighbors from across the river. I’ll be reading, along with indomitable Dan Maguire, on behalf of the Mad Poets Review. I’m really looking forward to it — not only because its going to be an excellent showcase of poets and a great way to meet & learn about a variety of journals, but because, as far as I can tell, there are at least three White Castles between the library & the NJ Turnpike. That alone is worth the 2 hour drive!

The course description & registration are up online now…. but here’s an overview:

Most of us have saved up stories-crazy things we did as kids, family legends and legacies, anecdotes about our wacky bosses. But we are daunted by the time and endurance needed to write a novel or prose memoir. Students will practice using poetry as the vehicle for personal stories. By working with various forms and prompts, discover the freedom, possibility and power of using poetry to convey a personal narrative. Examining a range of published works, students will see how personal poetry can be so much more than “confessionalism.”

For more info, or to register, visit the MALT website. If you’ve still got questions, give me a holler.

The first meeting, on January 13th, drew a talented, insightful, and enthusiastic group of poets, and we decided to keep the workshop going on the 2nd and 4th Saturdays of every month! Of course, there’s always room for more. So, if you’ve got a few poems that could use a tune up, oil & filter change, or tire rotation, bring ‘em around on Saturday afternoon to the Community Room at the Big Blue Marble.

The Monday Poets
featuring Autumn Konopka and Ashraf Osman
January 8, 2007 – Monday, 6:30p.m.
Free Library of Philadelphia, Central Branch {Directions}
an open mic follows the featured readings, so bring your poems!

I’m delighted to report that I’ll be starting 2007 with a bang, with a reading and two new events that I’m really excited about.

Featured reading, Autumn Konopka and Ashraf Osman
Jan. 8th, Monday, 6:30 pm
Free Library of Philadelphia, Center City
As part of the Philadelphia Free Library’s Monday Poets Series, I’ll be reading (about 15-20 mins) mostly from my collection, What the Postwoman Left, including the few final poems that haven’t read anywhere yet. The reading is in the Skyline Room at the Central Branch on Vine Street, so even if you don’t care about the poetry, come for the view. Seriously though, this is a great series that draws a large, diverse crowd — so along with the fine featured poets (*wink*wink*) the open mic is pretty darned impressive. Please join us.

Open Poetry Workshop, led by Autumn Konopka
Jan. 13th, Saturday, 1-3pm
Big Blue Marble Bookstore, Mt. Airy
I’ll be leading a new poetry workshop at the Big Blue Marble that is free and open to poets of all writing levels. Bring 10 copies of one poem. I’ve participated in workshops for years — the good, the bad, the ugly — so I’ve learned what it takes to make a workshop constructive, pointed, sensitive, and fair. If there’s a good turn out, the workshop will continue every 2nd & 4th Saturday. Check out the details here.

The Bard’s Book Club
Feb. 8th, Thursday, 7pm
Big Blue Marble Bookstore, Mt. Airy
The Bard’s Book Club is a space for poetry lovers to talk about the poetry they’re reading — not just the poetry they’re writing. You don’t need to be a poet to come — you just need to be interested in reading & discussing books of poetry. I’m not interested in talking like a high-minded, inaccessible lit professor. I’m interested in getting down to what moves us in each book, how it’s working, where the language really lifts the hair off the top of your head. This group will continue on the 2nd Thursday of each month, and books and poets will be open to the interests and ideas of participants.

As always, if you want more information about these events, get in touch.

Some folks may be familiar with PoetryClass, an old blog that I’ve kinda abandoned. This blog won’t be quite as thematically focused, but I’m sure to climb up on my soapbox every once in a while.

Otherwise, you can expect event notices and reviews, news about where and what I’m publishing, and general ramblings about what I’m doing, reading, listening to, watching. You should also keep your eyes out for photographic examples of my domestic prowess, including my knitting and baking exploits. Woohoo. Hold onto your hair!