Ariel

This is probably one of Plath’s most iconic poems; we get a great insight here into the author’s life and inner turmoil, as she wrote this in October of 1962, only a few months before she took her own life. It consists of sixteen stanzas with five lines each (quintet) It’s worth reminding ourselves here that Plath’s father died when she was eight years old, so he was not around for her formative years. This is a poem full of metaphor and simile as the author attempts to express her innermost thoughts and feelings, yet still with a bit of a wall up. Note too that while the title is Daddy, the poem isn’t solely about Plath’s relationship with her father, but also with Hughes, particularly towards the end of the piece.

The first line is completely categorised by this childish ‘oo’ sound as the speaker, right from the outset, establishes herself as having regressed to a childlike state through a nursery- rhyme like, “You do not do, you do not do.” This iambic pentameter creates a sense of balance, yet also of something sinister as the speaker hides her emotion in this rhythmic pulse. “Any more, black shoe” also contains a caesura right in the middle of the line. In a way, the speaker continues fleshing out her thoughts in a logical manner right at the start here. We then have the odd like “in which I have lived like a foot.” The speaker has introduced herself as something covered, unseen and often not noticed when it is within a ‘shoe’. This is almost claustrophobic, yet still, she is recognising her importance as an important part of the body.

She elaborates on this in “for thirty years, poor and white,” as Plath wrote this about two weeks before her thirtieth birthday. She’s basically saying that she has lived like this her whole life. There’s a bit of an evocation of sympathy through the choice of the word “poor,” and the interesting choice of the word “white.” Looking at this colour in the context of “black” in the second line, we come to see a clear dichotomy as the speaker is not only a ‘foot’, but she is the pure “white” one being amidst the harsh and dark “black” shoe. Looking back at The Moon and the Yew Tree, we see that white doesn’t always symbolise purity and positivity for Plath, but can also hint at anger (“white as a knuckle”), tying in well with the emotions conveyed here.
 
She concludes this idea of her being in the “black shoe” as “barely daring to breathe or Achoo.” This childlike sense continues through the predominantly monosyllabic approach throughout the stanza. This introduces a sense of fear; even breathing, the most basic and necessary of human functions, is something the speaker “dare” not do.

The first word in stanza two is a childlike address to a father. “Daddy,” it begins, with a comma as we stop and feel a sense of endearment. Then it continues, “I have had to kill you.” (Quite a dark turn!) This “had to” is of such high modality that the speaker is implying she had no choice in the matter, as she has had to rid herself of him. This second line comes across as a little contradictory now, “You died before I had time –” which could be read as ‘you died before I had time to kill you’ or as a notable omission of what the speaker wanted to do with their “time” together (e.g. ‘you died before I had time with you’). A metaphor is introduced as the speaker goes on, “marble-heavy, a bag full of God.” Casting him in “marble” depicts him as cold, but also distant like a Greco-Roman statue who is long gone from the modern world of the living. She continues this idea with the “ghastly statue with one grey toe,” suggesting something revolting or frightening – recall that Otto Plath died from complications arising from an amputated foot. That the toe is “big as a Frisco seal” also ties this directly to Plath’s father, who conducted his studies in San Francisco (colloquially “Frisco”). The word “seal” also has the double meaning of something being closed up (like when saying someone’s “fate is sealed”). In this way, she’s almost saying that with the gangrenous foot, his fate became inevitable.

The beginning of the third stanza actually follows on from the last (note its enjambment) “and a head in the freakish Atlantic.” In a way, she is pretty much saying that the impact of her father was so spread out for her, from “Frisco” to the “Atlantic” that is “freakish[ly]” far away from her. “Where it pours bean green over blue” invokes colours of nature and peacefulness, as well as a child-like internal rhyme. This blue may be the “waters off beautiful Nauset” which was a seaside place in Massachusetts where Plath and her family used to vacation when she was a child. Now, when you read these three lines of this stanza in succession, this actually doesn’t make sense. She’s saying that “in the freakish Atlantic,” this is “where it pours bean green over blue” yet she instantly comes back “In the waters off beautiful Nauset” But, reading into it, it’s actually in the “head in the freakish Atlantic” where she sees this image, not the Atlantic itself. In this way, you can see that she is referring to her childhood memories at Nauset as “where it pours bean green over blue.” Looking at the analysis of the colours in the previous stanza, you can see that Plath is essentially saying that when she recalls these memories, she is at peace (“blue”) as she contemplates and remembers life (“green”) when she was a child (“bean green”).

But in the next line, this reminiscing ceases as she speaks in second person, “I used to pray to recover you.” Keep in mind that, because of where it’s placed, this line could refer to Plath’s father directly, but it could also be referring to the memories she has mentioned in the rest of this stanza, as she has let go of these too. Realise that this sentence is in past tense, we see the speaker no longer has this hope of “recover[y].” In the next line, we have “Ach, du” which literally translates to “Oh, you” from German.
 
It comes across as a sigh-like line, as the speaker seems defeated at her giving up “pray[ing] to recover” her father, emphasised by the finality of the full stop after it and how it stands alone in thought. Know that her father was a German immigrant, so her use of the language makes sense; it’s like she is identifying with him as much as she can. Moreover, “du” is the word for ‘you’ if you are close to the person (’sie’ being the alternative), therefore still giving us a sense of a connection that the speaker seems unable to sever.

In stanza four, Plath evokes “wars wars wars” that have “scraped [her] flat,” emphasises the extent of the mental anguish Plath has faced and associating this with annihilation. In this way, Plath introduces victimisation in this poem as she identifies with literal victims of war; an idea that continues throughout the poem. “But the name of the town is common,” as the “Polish town” in the first line is not identified, but Plath links this with “a dozen or two” others. “So I could never tell where you / Put your foot, your root” – in other words, the speaker has nothing that she is able to relate to her father with. She doesn’t know his “root[s]” – his story – and this meant she couldn’t build a relationship with him. (Keep in mind though that isn’t a literal thing. Otto Plath didn’t come from Poland, so it isn’t so much a direct reference to her father as much as it is a reference to herself being unable to relate to him.)

Elaborating on not knowing her father, the speaker explicitly states, “I could never talk to you.” Up to this point, we are seeing that all the lines in this stanza, so far, have ended with that ‘oo’ sound. When we see line five, “the tongue stuck in my jaw,” we are therefore seeing a more harsh and angry line that has moved on from this childlike upset. As well as the change in rhyme, the word “stuck” ends in that harsh ‘ck’ sound that emphasises this sensation of being stuck it, almost feeling it with the speaker as we read. Notice too how she says “the” tongue, not ‘my’ tongue, likely a reference “the German tongue” in the previous stanza. As such, we can assume that she is talking about an inability to relate to her father again. She doesn’t know his “root,” as there seem to be so many places with the same name she doesn’t know about, and the “German” tongue that was similar to her father’s “stuck” in her jaw, as she was unable to express herself to him.

The repetition of the harsh word “stuck” in these consecutive lines allows for emphasis on its inability to move, and therefore the speaker’s difficulty of communication. The metaphor of “barb wire snare” is evocative of a prison, but considering the context and theme of victimisation Plath is using throughout the poem, one is inclined to link this to the imprisonment of the Jews in concentration camps. She elaborates on this and likens herself to them in the next stanza, making this a bit of a historical allusion too. “Ich, ich, ich, ich” is another instance of German being used in this poem. It means ‘I’ and is reminiscent of stuttering as the speaker struggles to find or express herself, with the next line “I could hardly speak” solidifying this. The idea of a Freudean Electra complex is introduced in this line as the speaker expresses, “I thought every German was you.” It was theorised that girls with an Electra complex (called an Oedipal complex for boys) tend to seek out father figures to fill the void of the absent male figure. So, what she’s expressing is this sense of finding any attribute that could be similar to her father. Notice too how this line ends in that ‘oo’ sound, allowing us to realise she is talking about herself as a child; unable to decipher between her father and others through his absence.
 
Despite the clear complex portrayed in the previous line, the speaker asserts that “the language” is “obscene.” In this way, she almost immediately detaches herself from any emotional connection she might have to her “German” father, making her complex clearly involuntary. This is emphasised by the way she follows on this idea from the previous line, despite ending “every German was you” with a full stop. It’s like she is saying that she saw her father everywhere, and it was something she hated. Not only this, but that choice of the word “obscene” has a bit of a sinister tone to it, as she associates the language of her father with something so revolting, it can be referred to as an obscenity.
The seventh stanza begins with an “engine” that is “chuffing me off like a Jew.” In WWII, the Nazis used to transport their victims to camps, notably Jewish people, via trains. In this way, she has identified with not only Jews, but Jews in the context of one of their worst periods of suffering in history. That word “chuffing” is an interesting one as, not only is this the sound a steam engine makes, but the expression to ‘chuff off’ sort of means ‘go away,’ as an expression of anger. In this way, not only is she victimising herself through this identification with the Jews, but she is also expressing how she feels unwanted in this context. She elaborates on the Jewish peril through this line, “a Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen” which were well known concentration camps during the war, thereby creating a sense of ominous entrapment and impending doom.

“I began to talk like a Jew” is a juxtaposition to the previous stanza’s line, denoting the German language to be “obscene.” In a way, you can almost see how she is speaking of the language associated with power at the time as being one of obscenity, and how the Jewish people and their victimisation is what she associates with. Going back to the idea of her father, it’s almost like she’s saying she is so far away from any connection to him, that she is repulsed by his language and associating herself with what can be seen as the total opposite. She cements this idea in the final line, “I think I may well be a Jew.” Notice that, up to this point, all the lines in this stanza (except the first) have been end stopped. In this way, you can almost see the reflective progression the speaker makes to reach the point of realising that she is not only treated like a Jew and speak like them, but is actually one of them. We are therefore seeing what is almost a forced detachment from the speaker to her father.

We see a bit of a shift in ideas at the beginning of the eighth stanza. “The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna,” with Tyrol being a place known for having pure white snow, and Vienna as a stronghold of Hitler and the Nazis in WWII. Hence, Plath is able to emphasise how “impure” and false the ideas of the Germans were. The “gips[ies]” in the next line were also victims of the Nazi regime, and often used “Taroc” cards to tell the future, introducing the idea of mysticism. She ends this stanza similarly to the previous one, “I may be a bit of a Jew,” perhaps hinting that there is more to her personality than this, as she associates with other victimised groups too. As much as she can, she is trying her hardest to identify with anything other than her father, bringing all these ideas into the one stanza so as to emphasise this.
 
Stanza nine is one of the only instances where italics are used, as the speaker begins, “I have always been scared of you” where we see an almost sinister approach to the language. Elaborating on this fear, the speaker continues, “with your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo” linking the German air force (“Luftwaffe”) with a nonsense word. “And your neat moustache” links the “German” ideal of “Aryan eyes” to Hitler’s infamous moustache, and as such, Plath turns her father into the most bloodthirsty and notoriously racist person of the twentieth century, almost justifying her detachment. The reference to a “panzer-man,” a German tank driver, she associates this with the destruction of her life.

In stanza ten, the speaker comes to the realisation of who her father is as she comments, “not God but a swastika.” There is such a vivid realisation here as the speaker brings her father down from the status of ‘God’ – capitalised to give him this sole power – or a ‘bag full of God’ from earlier, right down to the “swastika” associated with Hitler and the Nazis – the total opposite. This symbol is “so black sky could squeak through,” reinforcing the idea of darkness and evil. The next line is quite a sarcastic one, as the speaker suggests that “every woman adores a Fascist,” at first coming across as a little masochistic. The word “adore,” suggesting unwavering respect, though the generalisation of “every woman” is quite unusual for Plath’s poetry. “A Fascist” would suggest someone to whom a woman could be subservient, so in a way, as this poem is directed to her father, Plath might be sarcastically saying that ‘of course you assume all women like to be subservient and not given the attention they deserve,’ speaking in a generalisation in order to draw attention away from her emotions for her own protection. “The boot in the face” elaborates on this idea in the previous line of masochism, yet is really continuing this sarcastic approach (as who wants a ‘boot in the face’?). It again comes back to this idea of subservience of women, as the men literally have their feet at the woman’s head level. The ending of this line “the brute” is very reminiscent of one of the line endings in Lady Lazarus (“the same brute / Amused shout”). In the same way that section of Lady Lazarus expresses a subtle attack at her husband, Ted Hughes, as “brute” is a word that can be used to describe a rough man, this is where in Daddy, Plath begins to shift the focus of the poem to not only her father, but also to her husband. Indeed, “brute heart of a brute like you” reverts to the assonant ‘oo’ sound and the repetition of that same word ‘brute’ suggesting childlike inability to control one’s words at a sudden realisation: that she has married a man like her father.

From the angrier tone in the previous stanza, we see a shift to a more solemn one as the speaker notes, “you stand at the blackboard, daddy / In the picture I have of you.” There’s that direct reference to her father, using the childlike “daddy,” emphasising this reversion back to a child looking up at her father. Although it might be literally just her looking at a picture of her father in front of a blackboard, there’s probably a few things you can take from it. Firstly, going back to her earlier references about Nazis, know that when Hitler was führer, schools used to have his picture hung above their boards, therefore emphasising her ideas from earlier. Moreover, the fact that it is a “blackboard” that he is in front of might be taken as his being a teacher and Plath having learnt only hatred from him, hence her need to “kill” him (blackness symbolising such destructive thoughts). There’s also that subtle transition that, whilst he might be standing in front of a blackboard, it is still “in [a] picture.” So, despite the fact that she can see him, he is still distant from her and only a memory.
 
She continues from the previous stanza (note the enjambment) “bit my pretty red heart in two.” An interesting line that can be taken in a couple of ways. Firstly, I like to think that she talking about her “pretty red heart” in an almost teenage way, as though she opened up her heart to a man who “bit” it “in two” – a pretty gruesome image. However, that “pretty red heart” might be a bit of a subtle attack on the way women are portrayed; words to describe the surface (like “pretty”) are used to characterise an organ associated with feelings in an almost demeaning way. Also, recall that Plath actually bit Hughes’ cheek when they first met each other, reinforcing these hints to him throughout the poem.
Plath returns to her father and notes “I was ten when they buried you.” This is somewhat innacurate, as Plath was eight when Otto died, but this may not be a literal burial, as perhaps it was only at aged ten when Plath understood her father’s death. But although he was “buried” the memory of her father did not leave her, as she emphasises “at twenty I tried to die.” Clearly she is talking about her suicide attempt, a morbid feint at balancing things out a decade later, implying that she spent ten years contemplating her fate without him and wanted to reunite with him in death. This also has echoes of Lady Lazarus where she notes, “the first time it happened when I was ten” and, “what a trash / To annihilate each decade.” Elaborating on the purpose of the attempt, she continues “and get back, back, back to you.” That repetition of ‘back’ is incredibly childlike, almost like a tantrum. In a despairing way, the speaker concludes the stanza, “I thought even the bones would do.” This is very dark imagery, whereby Plath is essentially conveying the desperation to reach her father. Saying that in her death, the “bones” that would remain, so soul, body or spirit, would be enough to bring her closer to him, as they would both be dead. However, you can also take it as her saying that even his “bones would do” – that being buried with his “bones” would be enough for her. Really gives you an insight into the dark mind at work here, emphasised too by that ‘oo’ sound concluding all the lines in this stanza except the third one. There’s a real element of being deluded by an incorrect thought.

Stanza thirteen continues the story of the suicide, as Plath is “pulled... out of the sack” and “stuck... together with glue,” suggesting she resisted these efforts to restore her life and her completeness. This is followed by the ominous “and then I knew what to do / I made a model of you” again brings us back to this childlike state (like an arts and crafts project!). In a way, we’re seeing a bit of an effigy almost, coming back to this idea of that unresolved Electra complex, whereby the young female child tries to find a substitute for the missing male figure.

Describing this effigy, she continues, “a man in black with a Meinkampf look,” referring to Hughes. Breaking this down, notice the consonance of the harsh ‘ck’ sound coming into play again in “black,” “Meinkampf” and “look,” as a sense of disgust is almost portrayed from the speaker at what she has supposedly “made.” Note that “Meinkampf” brings us back to earlier connotations of WWII and Hitler, as this was the title of the book Hitler wrote in prison before he became führer, translated to ‘my struggle’.
 
Continuing to elaborate on this ‘model’, she notes that he had a “love of the rack and the screw.” This is likely a sexual metaphor, whereby Plath is essentially saying the only “love” her husband had was not for her, rather for satisfying his own lust. Moreover, this reminds us of the tenth stanza, “every woman adores a fascist,” where she essentially presents his as a dictator, a man whose priorities are only his own. Emphasising this is about Hughes, she continues, “and I said I do, I do,” connoting marriage. The repetition of the phrase “I do” comes across as one of great defeat, only emphasised by its following a terminal caesura. You can see the regret coming across, as she realises how much of a mistake this was. The phrase “I’m finally through” reminds us of the beginning of the second stanza where she “had to kill” her father. Despite this, we see how strong her emotional connection is; that she is still talking to him and is now “finally through” yet, she does something similar in the next two stanzas; right to the final line. “The black telephone’s off at the root” is very closely linked to The Munich Mannequins, where she mentions “the black phones on hooks,” referring to women waiting to be spoken to. However, here she is saying that it is now “off at the root,” basically saying that she is closing any line of communication and is no longer waiting for him, and the “voices can’t worm through” as no one else can reach her.

“If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two” takes us back again to the second stanza again, though we now know that to “kill” has more to do with memories than murder. She clarifies who the other “man” is, as she expresses, “the vampire who said he was you,” and who “drank my blood for a year, / Seven years, if you want to know.” Essentially, she expresses the way in which Hughes took her essence through this bloodthirsty imagery of “drinking [her] blood.” Again, we see an element of the theatrical here in her speech through the way in which she expresses, “for a year / Seven years, if you must know” (she was with Hughes for about seven years). Similar to the previous stanza, we’re still seeing that the speaker has been unable to let go of her father as she again directly addresses him, “Daddy, you can lie back now,” suggesting he is still alive in her mind. In a way, it is at this point where she is finally working towards ridding herself of him, as she is now laying him back the way someone would lay back as they are to die. Notice the finality of this too, as she concludes the stanza in a full stop.

The final stanza begins a crescendo to anger, as Plath states “there’s a stake in your fat black heart.” This traditional means of killing vampires is also a means of condemning his “black heart,” cold and unloving. “And the villagers never liked you” is an interesting line that elaborates on this idea of a “stake through the heart” through taking us back to medieval times of an almost ritualistic act. Her grouping of “villagers” and this generalisation gives a much broader sense and meaning to the line, that might even apply to all victims instead (noting that throughout the poem, there are references to the effect on Jews and subtle ones about the plight of women too). “They are dancing and stamping on you” furthers this ritualistic, cathartic imagery.

Again, in one of the only instances of italics in Plath’s poetry, she declares “they always knew it was you.” Again, through this generalisation, she is likely going outside the realm of only speaking about her father and rather speaking about the groups of victimised peoples she has alluded to throughout, giving them power through the focus on their knowledge.
 
For her and her father, she might be saying that she always “knew” it was her father she had to rid herself of in order to free herself of her troubles. The final climactic ending sees the end to the catharsis of the poem, as we see the powerful, “Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.” There is really that expulsion of her father’s influence on her life. We see the loving “daddy” repeated twice, while the word “bastard” is a horrible insult (ironically one used to refer to a child born out of wedlock, or in other words, a ‘fatherless’ child). You then see from this how she asserts, “I’m through” in such a way that you still see this need to explicitly express her hatred of him to force a disassociation to free herself of his influence. Again, that ‘oo’ sound is dominant throughout not only this line, but the majority of this stanza, as Plath is still reverting to her childlike status. In a way, I think that the poem is quite incomplete, even just by this final line. It’s incredibly powerful, true, but there is still that disassociation from herself and that word “daddy” being repeated too.