One of the most memorable days during the years-long process of editing The Letters of Sylvia Plath was the day that copies of 16 letters to Ted Hughes and 18 letters to Edith and William Hughes, his parents, arrived at my doorstep. I vaguely knew they were coming but that hardly actually prepares one to see an envelope, with my name written on it in Frieda Hughes' distinctive hand, appearing in the mailbox at the end of the driveway. I pulled it out of mailbox gingerly, like it was the most fragile object in the world. When I opened it, I'm pretty sure I squeaked. Truly. The black and white photocopies provided enough information about the letters to make transcription possible. There were a smattering of copies of envelopes included, some of which belonged to letters not included in the bounty of stuff Frieda sent. Which begs the eternal question: where are the letters that were stuffed into these envelopes? Who wrote it? Plath? Hughes? Both? And what would their Hollywood...
Sylvia Plath Info Blog by Peter K. Steinberg. The blog of A celebration, this is.