
Hi. This is my first comment with this club, and I'd like to wish everyone seasons greetings from merry old Miami, Fla. I've reached Chapter X on my Kindle, which evidently places me 41% inside the bell jar. I haven't read Sylvia in over 20 years; it feels a bit like I'm reconnecting with a college friend. She plays with words in ways that only a poet can. With a simple observation through her eyes, even a passing description of the city sky, I find myself suddenly considering the meaninglessness of it all. It's the smallest offering of foreshadow in a story that is so tightly edited, much like the prim and proper outline of its protagonist. Looking forward to the remaining 59%.