An Interview With Collector Stacy Shirk

An Interview With Collector Stacy Shirk

As part of our Into the Woods feature this autumn, we spoke to American book collector Stacy Shirk, whose  award-winning collection of fairy tales and fables opens a gateway into the world of myth and magic.
Book collector Stacy Shirk.Could you tell us a little bit about how you first got into rare book collecting? What drew you to fairy tales as a collecting area?

I feel like I have always been a collector of something – when I was a kid it was dolls, or crystal figurines, or Pokémon cards. I first got into collecting rare books just after college – to be completely honest I wanted to get a gift for myself to celebrate my graduation! I searched for a first edition copy of The Age of Innocence, one of my favorite novels, and I found one I could afford on AbeBooks, which was my first real introduction to the world of rare books. The feeling of holding the first edition of a book that was so special to me was like nothing else I had experienced – so much history and culture all represented in this one little volume. It was intoxicating! I’ve been hooked ever since. That’s how I became a book collector.

I have always loved fairy tales, so when I dedicated myself to building a more formal collection, they felt like a natural choice. There are so many different versions of these tales that have been told and published for centuries, and they remain incredibly important culturally because they’re often some of the first stories we tell children. I like to say you can see their influence everywhere, so there are many ways for the collection to keep growing.

What is your process in collecting? Do you have a wish list, or do you pick things up as they appear and take your fancy? Do you maintain relationships with booksellers who are on the lookout for material for you?

I do have a wish list, but I don’t hold fast to it and mostly tend to pick things up as I discover them. I find I’m learning new things about fairy tales all the time, having new ideas about where I want the collection to go, so while there are certainly items I tend to keep an eye out for and hope to find one day, I focus more on the previously undiscovered treasures.

I absolutely maintain relationships with booksellers! Booksellers are the greatest allies in building a well-rounded collection. I think it’s a no-brainer to trust the experts, and I learn more about my own passions from the booksellers who so generously and thoughtfully spend their time looking out for me and my collection. Those bookseller/book collector relationships are invaluable.

What do you think are some of the keystone items in a fairy tale collection?

I think it depends on what kind of fairy tale collection you’re building. There are so many different ways you can go with a collection. If you want to get down to the basics in the canon of Western literature, I think it’s important to have collections of Charles Perrault, the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen, and the French salonnières. These are the primary defining voices of the fairy tale as we know it today. Andrew and Leonora Lang’s “Coloured” Fairy Books are also hugely important for the genre, because they have fairy tales from all over the world. And if you want to go outside the Western canon, the Japanese crepe paper books from the late 19th and early 20th century are pretty magnificent.

If you want to include books from the Golden Age of Illustration, works with art by Arthur Rackham would definitely be considered keystone items. Though it’s somewhat controversial, I think it’s also important to include Disney books, as the Walt Disney Company has had a massive influence on the evolution of the fairy tale and particularly how the public absorbs and reacts to these tales.

I include fairy tale scholarship in my collection, and some of the foremost voices I’d advise collecting are Jack Zipes, Marina Warner, and Maria Tatar. Finally, if you want to focus on more contemporary stories, authors like Angela Carter, Gregory Maguire, Helen Oyeyemi, Naomi Novik, and Neil Gaiman have done, and continue to do, incredible work adapting older tales and creating new ones.

My collection also includes more than books – I love to explore the influence of fairy tales in different mediums, so I have fairy tale artwork, items of fairy tale-inspired merchandise like makeup palettes inspired by The Little Mermaid and Sleeping Beauty, and clothing from fairy tale-based collections. Fashion is particularly interesting because of the relationship between fairy tales and clothing, so there is rich potential in this area for any collector – Alexander McQueen, Prada, and Dolce & Gabbana are just a few designers who have explored fairy tales in their clothing, with some like Karl Lagerfeld even contributing to new fairy tale publications. My favorite thing about collecting in these other areas is seeing how much of our culture comes from these stories – it all begins with the books.

But those are just a few examples from what is really a boundless genre. I’ve barely scratched the surface here.

Book collector Stacy Shirk standing in front of her rare books collection.

Stacy winning the California Young Book Collector’s Prize in 2022

You mention the ‘Golden Age’ of illustration, with work by artists such as Arthur Rackham and Kay Nielsen contributing to a boom in the market for deluxe illustrated books of fairy tales in the Victorian era. What are your thoughts on how these artists represented fairy tales visually, and how do you think they’ve shaped our relationship to these tales in the collective imagination?

The artists of the Golden Age of Illustration were incredibly important in shaping how we visualize these tales, even if many people don’t realize it today.

The Industrial Revolution led to an expansion of the middle class, as well as new technology to create art reproductions that were far more vibrant and detailed than had previously been possible – suddenly, publishers could bring fine art to the masses. For this reason, gorgeously illustrated deluxe books, also called “gift books,” became popular – particularly gift books for children of the middle and upper classes, who did not have to work. This is also when fairy tales started to become what we might call “sanitized,” because they were, more than ever before, made for children. Looking back to World War I, we see how readers were interacting with these illustrations in something like Arthur Rackham’s Allies’ Fairy Book (1916), in which Rackham altered his usual style (which often leaned towards the macabre) because he did not want to allude to the graphic images coming back from the war front – it was thought that could potentially disturb readers. Obviously, before film and television, these illustrations were the primary way that people had to visualize the fairy tales, and the stories that these artists chose to illustrate are often the ones that remain most well-known today, because the fantastical (and beautiful) images captured the imagination so fully.

The artists’ influence extends onto the screen – Walt Disney was a fan of Arthur Rackham, and asked the Disney animators to imitate Rackham’s style. When the fluid lines and dramatic shading of Rackham’s work didn’t translate clearly in animation, artists like Gustaf Tenggren created their own style inspired by Rackham’s. Tenggren’s work on Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was so definitive that it’s difficult to picture those characters any other way now, with even some non-Disney adaptations using the color schemes and outfits of the 1937 Disney film. Kay Nielsen is one of my favorite artists and he completed concept art for a proposed Disney adaptation of The Little Mermaid which, while not used when he created it in the 1940s, was later used in the production of the 1989 film. So essentially, the work of these artists has reached through the decades and created an indelible image in the minds of many people of what these tales are supposed to look like.

Is there anything unexpected or strange you’ve learned about the history of fairy tales in your experience as a book collector?

This probably should not have been surprising to me, but I was shocked to see how much colonial influence can be found in fairy tale collections published during the Victorian era. I like to collect fairy tales from all over the world, and one thing I’ve had to grapple with is how much tales from colonized countries were revised when they were published in English. We often see evidence of this in the introductions, where the translators will say things like “we have picked the elements from the tales we feel our readers will like best,” or that these are stories were told in communities before “white people them to dwell in peace.” Folk and fairy tales often have community values embedded in them in some way, so to have the stories edited by colonizers or missionaries removes that cultural connection. It’s a hallmark of the genre that the stories change over time, from telling to telling, but this kind of alteration is different because of inherent bias. It’s important to preserve this history, of course, but luckily there are also many translators and scholars today doing the work to find and publish more accurate translations.

Some elements of Stacy’s collection.

The origin of fairy tales as we have come to know them in printed form is hard to trace, as most find their roots in the oral tradition. One thread, however, traces the genre back to a French noblewoman, Marie-Catherine Le Jumel de Barneville, Baroness d’Aulnoy, who collected stories for the entertainment of a literary salon of like-minded ladies. However, the most famous compilers of tales (and often the progenitors of the versions that are best-known today) are men, like Charles Perrault and the Brothers Grimm. Do you think there is a gendered aspect to the history and transmission of fairy tales?

We can thank Madame d’Aulnoy for coining the term “fairy tale,” or “conte de fée,” which she first used in the late 17th century. But yes, there is absolutely a gendered aspect to the history of fairy tales. It’s no accident that one early title for Charles Perrault’s first fairy tale collection was “The Stories of Mother Goose” – fairy tales were heavily associated with women, specifically female storytellers in the home.

Many fairy tales began as folk tales that were told chiefly amongst women. There’s a reason many of these stories center women, both as protagonist and antagonist, and deal with what were, for so long, some of the chief concerns of women: marriage, confinement, childbirth, and sexual violence. The French salonnières, the women of the French salons who popularized the literary fairy tale, used these fantastical stories to comment covertly on topics that were not only highly relevant to their daily lives, but that could otherwise get them imprisoned or executed by the monarch and his authorities.

Madame d’Aulnoy’s life was not so different from many of the fairy tales that came out of the French salons. As a teenager, her father forced her to marry a man three times her age. Her first two children died very young. She was accused of treason (potentially on multiple occasions) and forced into hiding. Her mother and other female friends were also accused of various crimes, and one friend was even beheaded for retaliating against an abusive husband. For these women, court machinations and monstrous parents and husbands were a reality. Dying in childbirth, becoming orphaned, suddenly dealing with hostile stepfamilies, and competing with other women for limited resources was also part of their world. They infused their stories with magic and fantasy to disguise the fact that they were discussing very real problems.

So, there’s a long history of women telling these stories for other women. There’s also a long history of men adapting these stories, and publishing them under their own names. Charles Perrault attended the salons created by his female peers, heard their stories, and wrote his own adaptations. His plots were generally less complex and featured much more passive heroines, and as the French salons closed, his stories continued to be celebrated by the public whereas the French salonnières were criticized and faded to relative obscurity (though luckily there has been a renewed appreciation for their works in recent years). The earliest literary fairy tale writers, the Italians Straparola and Basile, acknowledged that their source material came from women storytellers, as did the Brothers Grimm a few centuries later. Andrew Lang published the “Coloured” Fairy Books under just his name, though in the introductions he credited the many women who helped gather and translate the stories, most especially his wife Leonora Lang. Even Hans Christian Andersen, who wrote many original tales as well as adaptations, wrote of how he got the inspiration for so many of his stories from the women in the hospital where his grandmother worked. Most famous male fairy tale writers got their stories from women, and many of them altered the heroines to fit a specific view of what a woman should be.

For anyone with further interest in this, I highly recommend reading Maria Tatar’s book The Heroine with 1001 Faces, published in 2021, and Marina Warner’s From the Beast to the Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers (1995).

There has been a recent trend of revisionist and feminist retellings of fairy tales, starting with Angela Carter back in the 70s and persisting up to the present day, creating a new genre of fairy tales to collect. As a book collector, have you found collecting to provide an avenue for representing these new voices, and rediscovering previously unchampioned female voices?

One of my favorite things about collecting fairy tales is exploring the newer publications in addition to older titles. The primary goal of my collection is tracking culture as represented in fairy tales told across time and place – we can learn so much about a society based on their fairy tales, especially because these stories are often the ones used to teach children morals. So, as a book collector, it’s been really fun to see how fairy tales have changed, and continue to change, reflecting shifting cultural values. That certainly includes revisionist retellings like those of Angela Carter and Anne Sexton. It also includes newer voices that in previous generations would likely not have been given the opportunity to publish.

I find that right now, there are two major trends. One is looking back, to stories like those of the French salonnières and also those older tales from Africa, Asia, and indigenous communities that were previously altered or ignored by English publishers, to bring those stories to light. Another is looking outward to feature new kinds of protagonists – we’re seeing a lot of fairy tales now featuring LGBTQ characters, such as Cinderella Is Dead by Kalynn Bayron, which imagines a land where Cinderella was a real person whose story is now used to oppress women. The main character in that book is a queer Black woman. Collecting absolutely helps champion the newer voices as well as those who had previously been underappreciated or unheard, because it makes those stories sit equal to and alongside those by Perrault and Grimm.

Being a book collector, my aim is to champion all of these voices to get a full picture of the humanity found in these tales that have been an integral part of nearly every culture on earth, for hundreds if not thousands of years. It’s an honor to be a small part of this storytelling tradition.

All photos c/o book collector Stacy Shirk.
Into the Woods: A curated selection

Into the Woods: A curated selection

From Hardy’s Greenwood to the first western publication on forest conservation, we get lost in the tangled undergrowth of our shelves, choosing first and fine editions of some of our favourite examples of forests and woodlands in literature.

RACKHAM, Arthur (illus.); SHAKESPEARE, William.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 1908.

First Rackham edition, trade issue, handsomely bound by Hatchards in full green morocco. In his memorable illustrations for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Rackham “developed his gift for drawing witches, gnomes, fairies, and anthropomorphized trees and brought them to a pitch of vivid characterization, sometimes with an unsettling frisson of horror”. A Midsummer Night’s Dream takes place in the forest outside the city of Athens, where the social conventions and norms of city life do not pertain, and the anarchic chaos of the plot can play out.

 

First British illustrated edition, of Hawthorne’s masterpiece, attractively bound by Riviere. The forest is an important setting in The Scarlet Letter, representing the natural world, ungoverned by the Puritan laws of the town, and where witches gather and the devil takes souls.

Titled and signed on the verso by Charles Job.
Charles Job a stockbroker by profession, was a passionate amateur and became a Fellow of the Royal Photographic Society in 1895, contributing to the annual exhibitions of the Society and the Linked Ring. (The Linked Ring was a brotherhood consisting of a group of photographers based in London which pledged to enhance photography as a fine art). During the First World War he was based at the Censor’s Office in Liverpool. 

HARDY, Thomas.
Under the Greenwood Tree. 1891.

New edition, inscribed by the author “yours truly Thomas Hardy June 10. 1892” on his Max Gate card which is mounted to the frontispiece recto. First published in 1872, Under the Greenwood Tree was Hardy’s second novel, and the first of the Wessex novels. The story is inspired by a conflict between his grandfather’s “string choir” of viols and voices in Stinsford church and a new vicar who was determined to replace the choir with an organ. Although distinguished among all his fiction for its relative happiness and amiability, it is an important precursor to his major works.

DANTE ALIGHIERI; BOYD, Henry (trans.)
A Translation of the Inferno, in English Verse. 1785.

First edition, rare, of the first appearance of Boyd’s translation of Dante, considered superior to the blank verse translation of 1782 by Charles Rogers, and preceding by 17 years Boyd’s own completion of the Divine Comedy (1802), which would be the first published completion in English. This Dublin edition is the true first, preceding the London edition of the same year. 

Dante’s ‘Dark Wood’ is one of the great symbolic forests of literature, where the famous opening of the Inferno is set. The forest in Dante symbolises moral ambiguity and, the speaker having lost his way; it is also the portal through which he passes to begin his journey through the underworld, which will ultimately transform him.

First edition, first impression, deluxe issue, presentation copy inscribed by the author, “Gertrude Adams, with best wishes, from, A.A. Milne, Christmas, 1926” on preliminary blank. The recipient was the Milnes’ housekeeper at Mallord Street, Chelsea, and also a personal maid to Daphne Milne.

Winnie-the-Pooh was an immediate success and garnered even more enthusiastic reviews than its predecessor, with one critic writing that “When the real Christopher Robin is a little old man, children will find him waiting for them. It is the child’s book of the season that seems certain to stay” (Thwaite, p. 317).

First edition of this pivotal work of American nature writing, a back-to-nature classic which made Thoreau one of the prophets of the early American environmental movement; one of 2,000 copies printed. This is a lovely copy in the original cloth.

First edition, first printing. Where the Wild Things Are was criticized at the time of publication for its darker elements, but was soon acclaimed as a triumph of children’s storytelling and book design; it has remained a classic of 20th-century children’s literature, and was adapted into a film in 2009.

First edition, presentation copy, inscribed by Evelyn to Sir Robert Moray, one of the founding fellows and first acting president of the Royal Society. Sylva is “the first western publication on forest conservation”.

Signed limited edition, number 193 of 500 copies numbered and signed by the artist. Reviewed in The Bookman in December 1918, this edition was hailed with the comment that “it would be difficult to find a more fascinating and artistically produced volume than the collection of English Fairy Tales retold by Mrs Flora Annie Steel… There are sixteen delightfully fanciful full-page illustrations in colour by Mr Arthur Rackham, and countless black-and-white drawings in the text. It is a sumptuous feast and a gift that will be prized by all art-loving and imaginative children”.

Five Forests in Literature

Five Forests in Literature

A source of both knowledge and mystery, the forest is a terrain of possibility. The Scottish-American naturalist, and father of the American Nationals Parks, John Muir said: “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness”. In the literary tradition, the forest has long served the function of being a landscape where the quotidian rules of day-to-day life are relaxed; an arena our characters enter into to be transformed, returning or passing through with fresh knowledge about the world and about themselves. The psychoanalyst Bruno Bettelheim’s said of the forest-as-symbol that it “signifies a psychoanalytic space – a place separated from everyday experience in which to be lost is to be found”, while academic Jack Zipes, speaking of the forest in the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm, said that the forest makes enchantment possible, because the conventions of society do not apply there.

As such, the forest occupies a unique position in the human imagination, as a place where we can temporarily lay down the burden of our urbane and civilised  personalities and let our wild selves come to the fore. Witness the contemporary popularity of ‘forest bathing’, championed as a cure for burnout and the stresses of urban life. With global deforestation a devastating contributor towards the climate emergency, and a consequence of accelerating capitalism (major western brands and banks continue to support deforesting enterprises such as drilling, logging, and mining through their investments) our real-world arboreal landscapes are fast disappearing. It is therefore more important than ever to consider the vital role forests play in the realm of the imagination, as well as their practical value. Here, we reflect on some of the most enchanting, thought-provoking, and transformative forests in the books on our shelves.

Walden Woods, Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Title page of the first edition of Walden, 1854

“I went to the woods”, said Henry David Thoreau, “because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived”. His masterpiece Walden is alternatively titled Life in the Woods, and is the essential back-to-nature text. It was in the woods by Walden Pond where Thoreau famously made his home, a spartan cabin where he chose to live simply and in harmony with the rhythms of the natural world. His experience, half social experiment, half voyage of personal discovery, was by his own account an attempt to escape from the effects of “over-civilization” and to search for the “savage delight” of wilderness. For Thoreau, the woods represented the opportunity not to conform to the lifestyles and preoccupations of his fellow man, but to locate a more vital and fundamental way of being: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away”.

The Dark Wood, Inferno by Dante Alighieri

Dante Alighieri – La Divina Commedia Canto I, Gustave Doré 

“In the middle of our life’s journey, I found myself in a dark wood” begins one of the most famous pieces of literature ever written, Dante’s Divine Comedy. It is the dark wood that heralds the very beginning of his journey into hell, where he will meet all manner of sinners; the place he must pass through before he reaches the gate into the underworld itself. The wood therefore functions, for Dante, as a liminal space, neither part of the structure of hell itself, nor part of the real and mundane world, it is a space Dante moves through to effect a transition from one plane to another. Dante’s state at the beginning of the Inferno is one of moral and spiritual disorientation, having lost the “straight way” or path of righteousness and salvation. In this way the forest represents for Dante uncertainty and disorientation but, as the first stage of his katabasis (the Greek term for a journey into the underworld) the promise of ultimate transformation and salvation is hinted at.

The Wood Between the Worlds, The Magician’s Nephew, C. S. Lewis

The Wood Between the Worlds illustration by Paule Baynes, The Magician’s Nephew, 1955.

As in Dante, the forest in Lewis’ Narnia is a portal between worlds. Most indelibly, it is a snowy forest into which Lucy emerges on first finding the entrance to Narnia behind the fur coats in the wardrobe: “’This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!’ thought Lucy, going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her…Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even prickly. ‘Why, it is just like branches of trees!’” However, it is the less well-known and more curious wood from Lewis’ 1955 book The Magician’s Nephew, the Narnia origin myth, that is perhaps the more arresting. The ‘wood between the worlds’ in a strange concept introduced when the protagonists of the story, Polly and Diggory, are tricked into using magic rings by Diggory’s morally ambiguous uncle Andrew. The rings transport them to the strange wood, where, between the trees, are a series of pools, each the gateway to a different world. The wood again represents a liminal or in-between space which functions as the vestibule to different worlds, and it is from this forest that Polly and Diggory find their way into Narnia for the first time.

The Hundred Acre Wood, Winnie the Pooh by A. A. Milne

Map from Winnie-the-Pooh, illustrated by E. H. Shepard, 1926

The fictional setting for the adventures of Milne’s beloved characters is unusual in literature for being overlaid on a real and existing landscape, that of Ashdown Forest in East Sussex. Milne saw the potential for the (at that time) unspoilt forest on his doorstep to be a playground for the young imagination, and mapped out the landmarks of Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, and Christopher Robin’s private kingdom based on real places that can still be visited, such as the ‘Pooh Bridge’ where the memorable game of Pooh Sticks takes place, or the ‘Enchanted Place’ where Pooh and Christopher Robin ultimately say goodbye. The forest in Milne’s book is a prelapsarian landscape, free from the stresses and sorrows of adult life, where “whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing”.

Mirkwood, The Hobbit, J. R. R. Tolkien

The Entrance to Thranduil’s Palace, Alan Lee

Forests play an important part in Tolkien’s tales of Middle Earth. What they hold in common is that they are often the places where the wildness and savagery of the old world has retreated; mysterious green hubs where the civilising influence of the sentient races holds less sway. The Old Forest which the hobbits travel through and encounter such misadventure in the early part of The Lord of the Rings, is the domain of Old Man Willow, the malevolent and ancient forest spirit, as well as the inscrutable and seemingly omniscient Tom Bombadil. Fangorn Forest is the domain of the Ents, the ancient treeherders who have congress with the primeval trees of the forest. Tolkien loved trees and viewed deforestation to make way for industry as one of the chief evils of the world.

Of particular interest in Tolkien’s forest settings is Mirkwood, in which a good portion of The Hobbit takes place. The sequence in which Bilbo and his dwarf companions become lost in Mirkwood displays a slight shift in tone with the rest of the novel, functioning almost as its own independent story which bears more in common with a classical quest narrative of Arthurian grail stories. Many of the essential elements of a courtly quest tale are present, as our heroes become lost in a bewildering and pathless forest, spot a mysterious deer, are afflicted with sleeping sickness by an enchanted stream, and come across a party of elves feasting and carousing, who scatter at the merest interruption. A lifelong student of myths, legends, and fairy tales, Tolkien was deliberately using the setting of the forest to send his characters on a transformative journey, from which they would emerge altered, ready to pursue the next stage of their adventure.

You can find first and special editions of these and other books featuring famous forests on our shelves.

Your Own Sylvia: A letter from Sylvia Plath to Ted Hughes

Your Own Sylvia: A letter from Sylvia Plath to Ted Hughes

Sometimes items come into our hands which plunge us, in medias res, into the life of a writer. This emotionally charged letter from Sylvia Plath to her husband Ted Hughes is such an item; the impassioned and personal words, written in her own hand, on paper of her choosing, impressing on the reader the vibrancy of the emotional life of the living, breathing woman. This letter even bears curious water marks which have in places smudged the ink. It is of course impossible to know, but is tempting to speculate that these could be the marks from the tears she intimates she is close to shedding over her predicament.

This extraordinary letter marks the end of Plath’s third week back in Cambridge in October 1956, and the culmination of unbearable separation from her husband of only a few months who was at this time staying with his parents in Yorkshire. She had been suffering from growing bouts of depression and a crisis of identity. Being apart from Ted had been affecting her work, creative and academic, as well as her mental state, which is characterised here as a “constant, deep sense of terror”. Here, she emphatically goes back on her statement in an earlier letter that she would rather be away from him when working, now asking for him to join her in Cambridge. In a state of despair at their separation, she writes “in spite of all my spasmodic calm & resolve I feel horrid & very black & wicked. it is simply a sin not to live with you. I could cry”. The first part of the letter is an exposition of her loneliness and inability to work, “the constant, deep – (so deep it is forming into vivid terrible nightmares) sense of terror, lack, superstition…”.

Learn more about this item with cataloguer Suzanna Beaupré.

Plath proposes Ted’s permanent presence in Cambridge as her ideal solution, “I can probe & root most deeply & well when planted every minute in the rich, almost unconscious feeling of your presence”. Her desperation grows as she tries to convince Ted to make the move in spite of the fact that, “you hate cambridge & wouldn’t want to come here again, I know”.

The other obstacle foreseen by Plath were the College and scholarship authorities who might object to the marriage. Living alone in Cambridge, Plath was unable to be open about her marriage, for fear that her college might expel her and her scholarship be cancelled. Moreover, if she did announce their marriage now, the gala wedding ceremony planned for America the next summer would have to be cancelled, and they would be deprived of the wedding presents they needed to begin their life together. The conflict presented by this appears to have caused significant distress, Plath writing “I am rightfully sylvia hughes & I feel sad, sick & disinherited. my first purpose is not just a wedding – it is you; I am married to you & would work & write best in living with you. I waste so much strength in simply fighting my tears for you – please understand about this & help me work it out”.

The upsides, however, would she suggests be worth the difficulties, “I could then combine love & writing & study much better then splitting them this abnormal way – wasting time when away from you in wishing you were here & wasting time with you by cursing the swiftness of that time & dreading fresh separation”.

She signs, “love & more love – sylvia”, before adding an equally emotive two-page postscript in which she turns to the practical side of the potential move, “the one difficult act would be telling Newnham (there are married students here, though few; & dr. Krook, I’m sure, would back me up) & the fulbright (they also have many married students, though mostly male) & getting a place to live & moving me”. However, she is convinced that it would work out, and be worth it: “all is as nothing without you, without constantly expressing my love for you”.  She resolves that she would first seek out Dr Krook’s advice, before speaking to Newnham and Fulbright, and hopes that Ted’s hatred of Cambridge might be overcome by living in Granchester, “you could write, teach part time & go to London for occasional BBC broadcasts”. She signs, for the second time, “I love you so – your own Sylvia”.

Despite her distress, this is an artefact from the early, happier days of the Plath-Hughes marriage. Ted’s own letters to Sylvia from this period are equally affectionate, filled with professions of love and frustration at their separation. Although their marriage ended in infamously tragic circumstances, culminating in Plath’s suicide in 1963, the portrait of the marriage in the letters which passed between them during this period is of a couple deeply in love, who share both an emotionally and creatively supportive bond, and on the brink of beginning their life together.

This item appears in the catalogue Only Connect, which gathers many exciting examples of literary connection, each a surviving fragment of a unique story, part of that indispensable alchemy by which we “connect the prose and the passion” as E. M. Forster once exhorted us to.

Only Connect: Literary presentations, associations, and manuscripts

Only Connect: Literary presentations, associations, and manuscripts

In today’s hyperconnected yet lonely world, the quest to make real contact with one another remains essential, in life as in literature. This catalogue gathers many exciting examples of literary connection, through presentation copies, ownership inscriptions, and letters. Each is a gateway to a unique story, part of that indispensable alchemy by which we “connect the prose and the passion”, as E. M. Forster urged us to do in the famous passage from Howard’s End.