Poet Sylvia Plath, mother of Nicholas Hughes
Nicholas Hughes, son of poets Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) and Ted Hughes (1930-1998) hanged himself on Monday, March 16th at his home in Alaska. He was 47 years old and a former fisheries scientist at the University of Alaska Fairbanks.
As the son of Sylvia Plath, Nicholas was the child of one of the most famous suicides in the 20th century. Plath took her own life in 1963, as her two little children slept in the next room. Nicholas was a year old at the time.
This afternoon, when I read the headline about Hughes’ death, I felt I’d been hit in the solar plexus. Although I never met Hughes or anyone in his family, I’ve been reading his mother’s and father’s poetry since I was a teenager. They were both poets of the first rank. Plath was the most distinctive and merciless voice of her generation. She attacked her subjects the way a sculptor attacks granite.
Here is how she began “Morning Song,” a poem about her infant child, written just months before she died:
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
Oh, to be able to write like that. Thank God few can.
That the child of a suicide should commit suicide is the most devastating of all tragedies. Whether we are parents ourselves or not, we all want to believe that children will climb onto their parents’ shoulders, then jump clear of their shadows. That is the transcendence we hope for.
People will say all sorts of things about the suicide of Nicholas Hughes. Some will say that poetry caused his death. That may be so, or it may not be. But if you read the biographies of his parents, you will see that without poetry Nicholas would never have been conceived.
In memory of Nicholas Hughes, I will bow my head in silence. Then I will turn to a poem, by Dylan Thomas—“Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.” Because poetry is water for the soul. And while it may be dangerous sometimes, without it our souls would die of thirst.
By Mona Molarsky © 2009
Poems by Sylvia Plath:
"Lorelei"
Articles about Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath:
Ted Hughes' book of poems "Birthday Letters" reviewed by Katha Pollitt
Ted Hughes at last recounts life with Sylvia Plath by Sarah Lyall
News articles about Nicholas Hughes:
Nicholas Hughes: son of poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes kills himself - The Guardian, UK, March 23, 2009
Son of Sylvia Plath commits suicide - The New York Times, March 23, 2009
Danielle Dreger-Babbitt - Seattle Books Examiner, Hughes Obituary, March 24, 2009
Q & A with poet Freida Hughes (Plath's & Hughes' daughter), Time.com, 3-13-07
Sylvia Plath Information:
Sylvia Plath Info blog run by Peter K. Steinberg includes many articles and resources
Comments
very nice, Mona, very beautiful
That is very sad, Mona. I remember in high school we had to choose a poet to write a long term paper on, and after much research I chose Sylvia, as she seemed to show a very unique and hard-hitting voice through her work. It's unfortunate that Nicholas seems to have suffered from some of the same demons as his mother.
How ironic and sad, Mona. Sylvia Plath was one of my all-time favorites and I especially loved her poetry. I did a paper in grad school on her and Anne Sexton. Yikes! What a downer! Great article.
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