Poetry & Blindfolds

Word came over today that Nicholas Hughes, one of two children of famed poet Sylvia Plath, committed suicide in Fairbanks, Alaska.  Hughes, 47, unmarried and without children yet a brilliant professor, hanged himself in his own home.   And my first thought was, oh come on. 

Nicholas’ mother, of course, famously committed suicide by sticking her head in an oven, ironically making her an icon for feminists throughout the 1960s and 1970s.  Sylvia Plath’s husband, Ted Hughes, ever the good judge of character, was screwing another woman at the time, Assia Wevill, whom he wound up marrying.  Of course, she committed suicide as well a few years later as well, going the extra mile by taking their daughter with her.

Nicholas strove to break free from the Hughes/Plath literary dynasty, not only moving to the US but moving as far from the UK as he could within the confines of the US: Alaska.  Instead of the poetry of language, Nicholas found his calling studying the poetry of fish and ecology. 

And then he commits suicide! 

Nicholas Hughes commits suicide,  instantly discrediting all of his efforts to make a name for himself and instantly regulating himself to a footnote of one of the most famously suicidal family in history.   If you search out stories on the suicide, you’ll find a paragraph about Nicholas and the rest a retread of Sylvia Plath’s stunted career.

What does a Hughes/Plath family reunion look like these days?  One person and a caterer.

Why did Nicholas Hughes hang himself?  It’s so hard to get a stove lit in Alaska.

So, with Ted Hughes having lost a battle with cancer over ten years ago, the remaining Hughes/Plath offspring, the poet Frida Hughes, is the winner of Survivor: Plath.  But at the same time, we cannot blame the world if it puts her on some sort of public suicide watch for the rest of her days.  Another dismal legacy of Nicholas’ rope trick.

Which brings this to mind: what do you buy a Hughes/Plath kid for birthdays or other holidays?  Better not get them anything in a plastic bag: they’ll just put it on their head.  Better not get them cutlery: they’ll walk down the road, not across the street.  Better not get them toys with small pieces: they’ll just eat the things.  And forget about pots and pans: they might want to cook something.

Call it Plathology. 

Disappointing.

 

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