Esta recopilación de la correspondencia que mantuvieron Sylvia Plath y su madre es fabulosa. Comienza a los dieciocho años de la autora, cuando comienza la aventura de sus estudios universitarios en Smith College. Después de varios éxitos vendiendo poemas y relatos cortos a distintas revistas de su país, Sylvia comienza a estresarse y a querer cosechar más éxitos. No obstante, el rechazo de algunos de sus trabajos conducen a la autora a su primer intento de suicidio. Tras su recuperación, continúa más tranquila sus estudios, y al terminar el curso decide acabar su carrera en Europa. Por ello, llega a Cambridge, donde conocerá a gente muy interesante, y relatará toda clase de aventuras a su madre.

Nonetheless, she does write beautifully, and although some of the things she wrote could have been lifted directly from my diaries without even needing to change any of the specifics, more often than not I found myself reading a rather perfect evocation of something I had never thought to write down, or had not been able to express properly when I tried. Something I thought was mine alone. Big Brother gathers the group and says: “Seeing as you’ve all been such angels while staying in my house, I thought I’d treat you to a little taste of heaven.” Headteacher’s letter – 31st October (including the daily schedule for all year groups for the coming half-term. Reading Jordan’s letter to him, Henry says: “The whole of my office is watching your every move and they know all about your behaviour in the bushes! Everyone loves your humour and thinks you’re a gentleman. I adore Henry – lifelong friends and potential son-in-law.”

The Good Friday/Belfast Agreement, which is not fully operational, has had the effect of passively establishing the principle of peace and bringing it about. For many decades, Northern Ireland only knew of war, but the GFA/BA sold people the idea and ideal of peace and the possibility of reconciliation.

And what social history is here. You can almost smell it. This is a realm, now entirely disappeared, in which Louis Armstrong plays Bridlington, every posh dinner begins with celery soup, and little girls still keep their bedclothes in nightdress cases, as Kitty once did. It’s like visiting another planet – a chilly one, where the immersion heater is on only very rarely. Booth, Larkin’s biographer, has edited these letters superbly well (there are 607 in this volume, a mere sliver of the terrifying total in existence), even if his footnotes are pedantic at times. Neatly tracing the poet’s adult life from Oxford University, through Wellington, Leicester and Belfast, where he worked in various libraries, and finally to Hull, a picture of the man slowly emerges. It’s not new, but perhaps the emphasis is slightly altered. Larkin as we find him here is witty, wise, grossly impractical, and extremely modest, in every sense of the word. For his 50th birthday, he asked his sister, Kitty, for a plastic container in which he might keep grapefruit juice There has been a bit of a fuss over Arthur this week. He has been trying to get in the Army unbeknown to his parents, but Mrs T. thought his parents ought to be informed about it, so she wrote and told them about him and he had to go home in hot haste last night. I guess he got in a fine row, but he won't say today. He is as miserable as anything. Really Will I never saw such a boy as he is. I am afraid he is going to the bad. I don't know if Mrs T. will keep him on or not. He says he has to join up in a fortnight, but as he is under age I suppose his parents could stop him. I don't know whether they will or not. For my part I hope he does go, he will be a jolly good riddance for there is nothing but rows and deceitfulness going on where he is. Of course I told you we have had an entire change round and I have a new job now, part of the ship. I have not half the time I used to have but I enjoy the robust work much better and I get to see much more with working away. We get up at 6.30 and work until 1.00 so we put a few hours in don't we. That is when we are working away.As people take sides and to the streets to call for an end to human suffering they should be applauded, lauded and commended. But a caveat to this well-intentioned and honourable endeavour should be added to that outcry and righteous anger. And that is, it should not, however justified they feel, become an outpouring of vitriol and hate. It is all too human to see events through a veil of incandescent rage and anger at what we see but it blinds us from demanding what is needed – meaningful dialogue and action that could lead to a significant and permanent cessation of hostilities. I would rather not describe the condition of the crew, of course they were dead - burnt to death. They were roasted, there is absolutely no other word for it. They were brown, like the outside of Roast Beef. One had his legs off at the knees, and you could see the joint! The relative calm and peace that Northern Ireland is now experiencing is to be highly commended. It is of course a very fragile peace. However, many things have built on small beginnings and we should not lose sight of that. At the same time let’s not be complacent and continue to struggle to defeat the plans of detrimental forces in our society.