Poet, diarist, tortured perfectionist, lover of good sandwiches and bad weather.
Sylvia Plath lived a life too big for footnotes. This is her story, 1956 to 1963.
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One continuous line — Massachusetts, 1932.
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The line runs out in the winter of 1963.
Seven years, two hundred and seventy-four poems — all of her, given over to the work.