Book Number Three: Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes
(First published in 1998 by Faber and Faber Limited)
If I absolutely had to pick a favourite book of poetry, this would be it.
It’s not that Ted Hughes is necessarily my favourite poet (he isn’t), but more that it reads like a cross between an autobiography (which it is) and a novel. Intensely personal, and charting so much of his relationship with Sylvia Plath, the beauty of this book is how it is so fiery and emotional – how it gets under your skin and makes you feel that it is you who is reliving an event or activity through each poem. You feel like you are in each moment, the prose is so immediate, yet it is so personal that you almost feel embarrassed that the moment has been shared with you, a stranger.
This is a book that takes you on a journey through a relationship – more poignant for it being a famous one where we know the sad outcome. In every poem there are brilliant and brightly lit moments – the ups and downs, the intensity, the passion and the frustrations. It is a book with a journey in it, and you move inexorably to the end – carried on a big tide and unable to jump free if you wanted to.