Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath summary and analysis

 

The poem Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath explores themes of death, rebirth, and identity crisis. The title, Lady Lazarus, is a direct reference to the biblical story of Lazarus, who was raised from the dead by Jesus. In the Bible, Lazarus is resurrected after being dead for four days, symbolizing the power of faith and divine intervention.

Just like the biblical Lazarus, the speaker in the poem undergoes a form of resurrection. She repeatedly attempts suicide but is brought back to life each time, much like Lazarus being brought back from the dead. However, unlike the biblical story where Lazarus is raised by divine intervention, the speaker's resurrections are more symbolic of her resilience and strength in the face of suffering. The title suggests a transformation from a mere mortal to something more. By adopting the title Lady Lazarus, the speaker claims agency over her own resurrection and presents herself as a figure of power and defiance.

 

 

I have done it again.   

One year in every ten   

I manage it——

At the outset of the poem speaker confesses the fact that that she's done something once again: every ten years, she manages to kill herself and come back to life.

A sort of walking miracle, my skin   

Bright as a Nazi lampshade,   

My right foot

 

A paperweight,

My face a featureless, fine   

Jew linen.

 

Peel off the napkin   

O my enemy.   

Do I terrify?——

 

This makes her a kind of living miracle. Her skin is so pale when she returns from the dead that it resembles a lampshade the Nazis made from the skin of Jewish Holocaust victims. Her right foot is as heavy as a paperweight. Her face becomes emotionless, mummy-like, in a fine piece of Jewish cloth.

The speaker calls out to her enemy, telling them to unwrap this cloth. She then asks if she frightens them. Are they scared of her skull-like face, with its empty eye sockets and full rows of teeth? Her breath is sour with the stench of decay, but she says the smell will fade by tomorrow.

Soon, soon the flesh

The grave cave ate will be   

At home on me

 

And I a smiling woman.   

I am only thirty.

And like the cat I have nine times to die.

 

This is Number Three.   

What a trash

To annihilate each decade.

 

Very soon, the skin that rotted off while she was in her tomb will return to her body, where it belongs. Then she will look like a happy woman once again. She's just thirty years old, and she has nine lives like a cat. This is her third life. What a shame, she says, to destroy each decade like this.

 

Gentlemen, ladies

 

These are my hands   

My knees.

I may be skin and bone,

 

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.   

The first time it happened I was ten.   

It was an accident.

 

The second time I meant

To last it out and not come back at all.   

I rocked shut

 

As a seashell.

They had to call and call

And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

 

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.   

I do it exceptionally well.

 

I do it so it feels like hell.   

I do it so it feels real.

I guess you could say I’ve a call.

 

The speaker addresses the ladies and gentlemen of the crowd, proudly pointing to her resurrected body parts—her hands, her knees. Her body is still just skin and bone, but she's the exact same woman she was before. She was ten years old the first time she died. She hadn't done it on purpose.

The second time she died, it was intentional. She'd wanted to stay dead, too. She sealed herself off from the world like a seashell. People had to repeatedly call out to her and then pick the worms off her body, which clung to her like pearls.

Like everything else, dying is an art form, a skill. And the speaker is extremely good at it. She dies in ways that feel terrible and real. You could say that dying is her true calling.

What's hard is the big, dramatic resurrection in broad daylight—the return to the exact same spot and the same face staring at her and yelling in the same old voice: "It's a miracle!" That's what the speaker really gets a kick out of. If people want to look at her scars, they'll have to pay. The same goes if they want to listen to her heart, which beats and beats.

 

Herr God, Herr Lucifer   

Beware

Beware.

 

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair   

And I eat men like air.

 

The speaker addresses "Mr. God" and "Mr. Lucifer," telling them to watch out for her.

The speaker will rise from those ashes, her hair red, and she will devour men like they are nothing, like she's simply breathing.

 

Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath is often interpreted as a feminist poem due to its exploration of female agency and the reclaiming of identity in a patriarchal society. Plath, a renowned poet known for her complex relationship with gender roles and societal expectations, uses Lady Lazarus to challenge traditional gender norms and highlight the struggles of women in a male-dominated world.

One of the central ways in which Lady Lazarus can be seen as a feminist poem is through its portrayal of the speaker's resilience and defiance in the face of adversity. The speaker repeatedly asserts her ability to rise from the dead, metaphorically reclaiming her agency and power. This can be interpreted as a metaphor for the resilience of women in the face of oppression and discrimination. Despite society's attempts to silence and subjugate her, the speaker refuses to be silenced, asserting her right to exist and be heard.

Furthermore, the title itself, Lady Lazarus, is significant in its reclaiming of a traditionally male biblical figure. By aligning herself with Lazarus, the speaker challenges the notion that power and agency are solely the domain of men. Instead, she presents herself as a powerful and defiant figure who refuses to be defined by traditional gender roles.

the poem can also be read as a critique of the objectification of women and the commodification of female suffering. The speaker describes herself as a spectacle, performing her own death and resurrection for the entertainment of others. This can be seen as a commentary on the ways in which women are often objectified and exploited for the pleasure of others. By reclaiming her own narrative and asserting her agency, the speaker challenges the objectifying gaze of society and asserts her right to control her own story.

Moreover, Plath's use of real and often grotesque imagery can be interpreted as a subversion of traditional notions of femininity and beauty. The speaker describes herself in unflattering terms, comparing her skin to a "Nazi lampshade" and her body to a "cake of soap." This rejection of conventional standards of beauty can be seen as a feminist statement, challenging the idea that women must conform to narrow standards of attractiveness in order to be valued.