My love for Janet Malcolm continues apace. I’ve been buying up her books but initially hadn’t bothered with The Silent Woman (1993) because I’m not especially interested in Sylvia Plath. Then somebody told me, probably on here, that it’s much more about the ethics and process of writing a biography than it is about Plath – and that sounded completely up my street.
Malcolm sets out the key moral quandary at the heart of writing and reading biographies, and she puts it so well that I’m going to quote a long passage:
The voyeurism and busybodyism that impel writers and readers of biography alike are obscured by an apparatus of scholarship designed to give the enterprise an appearance of banklike blandness and solidity. The biographer is portrayed almost as a kind of benefactor. He is seen as sacrificing years of his life to his task, tirelessly sitting in archives and libraries and patiently conducting interviews with witnesses. There is no length he will not go to, and the more his book reflects his industry the more the reader believes that he is having an elevating literary experience, rather than simply listening to backstairs gossip and reading other people’s mail. The transgressive nature of biography is rarely acknowledged, but it is the only explanation for biography’s status as a popular genre. The reader’s amazing tolerance (which he would extend to no novel written half as badly as most biographies) makes sense only when seen as a kind of collusion between him and the biographer in an excitingly forbidden undertaking: tiptoeing down the corridor together, to stand in front of the bedroom door and try to peep through the keyhole.
One of the catalysts for this exploration was Anne Stevenson’s 1989 biography of Plath, Bitter Fame, which Malcolm describes as ‘by far the most intelligent and the only aesthetically satisfying of the five biographies of Plath written to date’. This was 1993, and I’m sure plenty have been written since – but Malcolm tracks down all the biographers and memoirists who had written about Plath, critically and sympathetically, from personal experience and none. Because, though Malcolm admires Stevenson’s book, it was apparently received very critically – because it is sympathetic to Ted Hughes.
This is all before Hughes published Birthday Letters and the tide started to turn a little on seeing him as the villain of the piece. At the time, any criticism towards Plath or sympathy towards Hughes was seen as giving into the dominant force of the Plath estate: Olwyn Hughes. She is the most vivid character in Malcolm’s book. As Ted Hughes’ sister, she is the gatekeeper to Plath’s works and archives, and tries fiercely and hopelessly to determine the narrative. Well, again, Malcolm puts it best:
After three and a half years of acquaintance with Olwyn – of meetings, telephone conversations, and correspondence – I cannot say I know her much better than I did when she first appeared to me in her letter. But I have never seen anything in her of the egotism, narcissism, and ambition that usually characterise the person who welcomes journalistic notice in the belief that he can beat the odds and gain control of the narrative. Olwyn seems motivated purely by an instinct to protect her younger brother’s interests and uphold the honour of the family, and she pursues this aim with reckless selflessness. Her frantic activity makes one think of a mother quail courageously flying in the face of a predator to divert him from the chicks scurrying to safety.
And there is some truth to the reputation Stevenson’s book apparently had. She is so beset upon by Olwyn, every word of the biographer examined and questioned, that (in interviews with Malcolm) she describes the experience of writing the book as a kind of trauma. In many cases, she gave up. But when Malcolm meets and interviews the others who have written about Plath, she also pierces through all of their veneers, finding the real moral and personal choices behind their books (as well as the academic or supposedly objectives ones).
Malcolm is always arrestingly honest in a way that makes it seem like candour was the only option that occurred to her. She relays conversations with all her interviewees without even seeming to notice when they have exposed themselves and their flaws. There is an astonishing immediacy to it all and, given the discussions in the book about the difficulties of getting permission to quote from letters, I’m amazed that everybody involved signed up. Malcolm must be very persuasive. Some of the letters between Stevenson and Olwyn Hughes, for instance, are quite shocking. At one point, it’s almost like watching an abusive relationship from the inside.
As I say every time I write about a Malcolm book, she is the main draw. Don’t pick this up if you chiefly want to know the facts of Plath’s life. But if you’re at all interested in the ethics and practicalities of biography, or even just in how people interact when there is a lot at stake, then The Silent Woman is a brilliant and fascinating book.
Very interesting review of a (to me at least) rather controversial writer. I have mixed feelings about Janet Malcolm although I know far, far less about her work than you (I’ve only read “The Journalist and the Murderer”). I totally agree with you, however, that Malcolm raises many valid and interesting points about the biographer’s art and reminds us that we’re all too prone to accept a biography as being written without bias on the biographer’s part.
Interesting! Yes, she certainly isn’t a warm author, but I love her writing and love seeing others cope with her authorly persona!
I have this somewhere and may even have read it (I have a *lot* of books about Plath…) And the subject of her biographies is a terrifyingly complex one, battled over for decades by people with partisan interests. Frankly, I doubt biography is *ever* written without the author rooting for someone…
Yes, it’s interesting how I always put on a sort of pretence that a biography will be objective, unless it very obviously isn’t.
I am just a vulture. A relative newcomer to the Legend that is Plath and Hughes/Hughes and Plath. I studied Hughes for A Level and tried Bell Jar at 19 and utterly loved it at 47.
I worry that the mystique of Plath is part of my love; her suicide – and that her only novel (and poetry) is about Darkness and Despair – is all bundled together. she is a Jim; Jimi; Janis; Sid and Nancy; Kurt; Amy figure.
I came for Plath but what I discovered was Malcolm.
A biography about biographies and specifically about the Sylvia Plath cottage industry.
what is truth? The responsibility of the biographer vs the irresponsibility of the journalist. and that the reasoned ‘truthful’ ‘responsible’ biography is paint drying dull; dishwater dull, when compared to the salacious memoir.
Malcolm’s book has its cake and eats cake (let it eat cake)
This book blurbs like it’ll be desert dry but it skips along like detective fiction (literary detective fiction … obviously! )
Wow!
Fascinating. Way more interesting than I excepted the book to be. Well done!
Hope you manage to track down a copy, Lisa!
I’m so pleased that you liked this! I read this because I was interested in Plath but ended up with so much more to think about.
That’s always the way with Malcolm!
I’ve read this and journalist and murder. If you would recommend another Malcolm what would it be?
Yessss, I am so glad you ended up reading this! I think I love Janet Malcolm best when she’s doing literary biography — this and Two Lives have been my two favorites of hers, despite the fact that I have only a moderate interest in Sylvia Plath and, like, negative interest in Gertrude Stein.
Also, she wrote a piece in NYRB about her libel trial, if you’re interested! https://www.nybooks.com/articles/2020/09/24/jeffrey-masson-trial-second-chance/ It’s very very Janet Malcolm.
Thanks so much for sharing that link – absolutely fascinating! And I agree with you – I’ve read five of her books now, and the two literary biographies (of sorts) are my favourite.
“The transgressive nature of biography is rarely acknowledged, . . .” I now plan to read Malcolm’s book. Years ago, in grad school at the University of Tulsa, I spent many uncomfortably curious hours doing bibliographic description of journals and personal letters of some very major modern authors in McFarlin Library’s Satin Rare Book Room. (No, it had wood panels. Next question.)
Excellent, Ann! And yes, that would certainly have been my question…
BTW, I found this book available for borrowing from one of my fave sites, archive.org.
I started reading this review thinking that the book would probably not be of interest to me, but now think it raises interesting issues. I have always been slightly wary of biographies, as with the best will in the world, it is impossible for the biographer to know all the facts of someone’s life, never mind the emotions of the subject. A timely reminder to read with caution.
Yes, I wasn’t very interested until I started reading reviews of it – hope you give it a go and enjoy!
With an interest in Plath and in biography, I was already predisposed towards this book but the quotes you’ve chosen and your commentary confirms it. Thanks Simon!
Brilliant, Sandra! I do hope you enjoy it.
Okay, not to sound all woo-y, but I think this might be a sign. I’ve been wanting to try Janet Malcolm (since I read an essay from Helen Garner exalting her – if she’s good enough for Garner, she’s good enough for me!), but felt a bit unsure where to start. I hadn’t actually come across this one before, BUT I did use a biography of Sylvia Plath for a critical examination of the gendered nature of biographical writing in my last semester of my masters – so this one sounds PERFECT! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Oh gosh, this does sound absolutely perfect for you! Do let me know if/when you read it.
I’m not all that interested in Plath but my parents were because her brother was a college classmate of my father’s and my mother is her contemporary and Plath was held out as a shining star to young women her age. Also, if you grow up in Boston you generally learn about famous locals. As a result, I have read the Anne Stevenson bio and know more about her than I really needed to. Her birthplace is a few miles away but I think her acolytes mostly think about her from afar.
When Kaggsy recently posted a picture of her poetry shelves, I automatically suggested she separate Sylvia and Ted! It was second nature so I guess that means I am #TeamSylvia.