The Bell Jar

You are what you eat, as the old adage goes. But more than that, you are all that you consume, all that you interact with, all you absorb, all that you act. Whether you are the pornography addict who is now numb to love and connection, the politics obsessed cipher who only sees the Cave, the ChatGPT fiend who can no longer think their own ideas, or the serial social media watcher who can no longer focus crippled with anxiety, all of these afflictions are products of the environment you place yourself into.

I was inspired to write this after I spoke to a woman whose favorite book was The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. She was a friend of a friend, and we ended up talking about literature, which then turned into speaking about the meaning of life, which then turned into crying on her end. I felt very awkward to say the least, as I tried my best to remain positive and calm this lady down I had never met before. But all of this stemmed from the revealing of her favorite novel, and how reading it “changed her life.” She told me how all life was meaningless, how depressed she was at the idea of waking up everyday, and how insincere everyone around her was. She was a nihilist and a cynic, and every affirmation of hope I had against those facts for her were answered with more negatives.

Those grapes look beautiful now, but think about how disgusting they must be chewed up and digested in your stomach.

The next day I woke up with a rather strange feeling, and I decided to read The Bell Jar. I finished it in about three hours. It chronicles the summer of a young woman who suffers from depression in New York City as an aspiring writer. The young “heroine” of the novel has a disdain towards almost everyone, and is constantly speaking about suicide. I will not spoil the book for all of you if you haven’t read it, or give a detailed review here, but when I finished the book I felt hollow, empty, and unsatisfied. The prose was spectacular, and it was written as well as it could be with a very visceral look into Esther’s mind with rich and very believable descriptions of all that transpired within, but there was a void. It did not teach, it did not inspire, it did not help. It dampened, and it sucked your soul into a pit where you wonder why you would ever be happy again.

I can’t imagine anyone whose favorite book was that had a very love and warmth filled life.

Anyone who knows me will know my favorite book is The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, and my love for this novel borders on obsession. It is a tale of revenge, adventure, passion, drama, love, bravery, and above all else, hope. I believe it would be impossible for anyone to finish The Count of Monte Cristo and not walk away with a full heart and a sharpened mind. You read it and just fall in love with Edmond Dantes and his journey, and you feel good! I cried reading that book, I laughed out loud, and I smiled and bumped my fist in the air on a plane ride as I read about him conquering those who betrayed him.

Life becomes so much better when you surround yourself with the ideas, arts, and people who inspire you to do good. I know all too well the inverse, my first years of college listening to only The Cure and reading Edgar Allan Poe and feeling quite depressed with my life and my choices. Of course it is not just those pieces of art that led to my confusion and sadness, but I know they did not do anything to help lift me up, and helped perpetuate a cycle within me of dread and torment.

Fill your heart and mind with the morose, the nihilistic, and the evil, and that is who you will become. Or, build yourself with stories of bravery, hope, and love, and that is who you will be.

So ask yourself:

Would you rather be a cynic, hating the world and finding nothing but mildew in its bounty? Or a musketeer! Ready to take on each new day as an adventure with you at the vanguard, sword in hand. I know what I’d rather be.

-Will Witt