WEBVTT

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welcome back to the deep dive today we are standing

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at the edge of a very steep very jagged cliff

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looking down into the life of a giant and i don't

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use that word lightly we're talking about a man

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who um physically and metaphorically just loomed

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over the entire landscape of 20th century literature.

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We are talking about Edward James Hughes. Ted

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Hughes. Better known to the world of course as

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Ted Hughes. A literary titan. I mean there really

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isn't another word for it is there? He is a figure

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who casts this shadow that's so long and so complex

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that it touches almost every corner of modern

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English poetry. You just can't walk through the

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library of the last 50 years without bumping

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into him. You really can't. We're talking about

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a man who was poet laureate to Queen Elizabeth

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II, a man who the critics, and you and I have

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a massive stack of them in our notes today. A

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mountain of them. Frequently ranked as one of

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the very best poets of his generation. Some even

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say one of the greatest writers of the 20th century.

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We'll stop. And there is always this huge heavy

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but when you bring up the name Ted Hughes, he

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had it. He is a man whose name is practically

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impossible to say without immediately thinking

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of someone else. Sylvia Plath. Right. It's this

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dual legacy, isn't it? That's the hook that grabs

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everyone, whether they read poetry or not. It's

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the thing that turns a literary biography into,

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well, into a tabloid sensation. It does. On one

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hand, you have this poet of the wild. The man

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who saw nature as this brutal, beautiful battleground,

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a place of, you know, tooth and claw. And on

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the other hand, you have the husband, the man

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inextricably linked in the public imagination

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to the suicide of his first wife, who just happens

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to be one of the most beloved, analyzed and dissected

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poets of all time. And that creates a tension

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that just dominates almost every single discussion

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about him. You really can't escape it. You have

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the work, which is. It's undeniable. It's energetic.

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It's violent. It's primal. It physically impacts

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you when you read it. It's like being hit by

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a gust of wind or a handful of wet earth. Yeah.

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And then you have the life, which was marked

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by just extreme tragedy. frankly, intense public

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vilification. He was a man who spent his career

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trying to capture the raw energy of animals,

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of the wind, of the moors. But in the public

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imagination, he became this character in a tragedy

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he couldn't control. He became a villain to some,

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a tragic figure to others, and a mystery to almost

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everyone. And that's our mission today, really.

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We've got this massive stack of sources here

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to help us navigate this. We've got biography

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details, literary criticism that breaks down

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his meter and his myths. We've got information

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on the archives held at the British Library and

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Emory University, which contain thousands of

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letters and drafts. And we have the grim accounts

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of his controversial tenure as the executor of

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Plath's estate. Exactly. It's a complex web of

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sources because his life was a complex web of

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events. I mean, there's very little middle ground

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in the source material we've been looking at.

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People tend to either revere him as this sort

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of shamanistic genius or revile him as a patriarchal

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monster. And we want to try to look past that,

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past the tabloid sensation. It's just so easy

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to get stuck on the gossip, the he said, she

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said of the 1960s, the feminist backlash, the

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movies. But we want to understand the writer

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and the man. We're exploring how his childhood

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in Yorkshire, his fascination with shamanism,

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and yes, those personal tragedies forged a poetic

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voice that was brutal, energetic, and just. Yeah.

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Completely distinct. Right. We want to understand

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the genesis of poems like Like the Thought Fox,

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which is just a master class in creativity. We

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want to understand the controversy of the burned

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journals. I mean, why would a writer who knows

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the value of words better than anyone destroy

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writing? Such a huge question. It is. And we

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want to understand the silence he kept for decades,

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a silence he finally broke with birthday letters

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just before he died. It is a heavy task, but

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a necessary one, I think. So let's start at the

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very beginning. To understand Hughes, you have

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to understand the landscape that made him. You

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just can't separate the man from the mud. You

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have to go to the cradle of the Moors. Mithelmroid.

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Mithelmroid, West Riding of Yorkshire. He was

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born there on August 17, 1930. One Aspinall Street.

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Just the sound of that place named Mithelmroid.

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It sounds like something out of a saga, doesn't

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it? It really does. It sounds hard. It has this

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heaviness to it, like a stone dropping in water.

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And it was. I mean, he was raised among the local

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farms of the Calder Valley and on a Pennine moorland.

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This isn't the rolling, gentle, green English

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countryside of a Jane Austen novel where people

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have picnics on the lawn and discuss marriage

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prospects over tea. No, not at all. This is rugged

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country. It's industrial and agricultural caught

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in this very specific. Gritty intersection. You

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have the high, wild moors on one side, and then

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the soot -stained factories down in the valley.

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Stark, it feels like a place where you have to

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fight to exist. It is. And Hughes claimed his

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first six years shaped everything. That's such

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a strong statement for a writer to make, that

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the die was cast before he was even seven years

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old. He grew up amidst the harsh realities of

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working farms. He saw the cycle of life and death

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every single day. Nature wasn't a pastoral idol

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for him. It wasn't about cute lambs frolicking

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in a field. It was a place of survival. It was

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mud, blood, and struggle. It was elemental. So

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you have this little boy running around this

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harsh landscape, but there's another shadow hanging

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over this household, wasn't there? A shadow from

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a little further away. The First World War. Yeah,

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and I think this is a detail that gets overlooked

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a lot when people talk about Hughes because the

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Plath drama just overshadows everything. But

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his father... William Henry Hughes was a veteran.

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A survivor, really. And that word survivor carries

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so much weight here. It's not just that he came

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back. It's that he came back when almost everyone

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else didn't. Right. William Henry Hughes was

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a joiner of Irish descent. But during the Great

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War, he enlisted with the Lancashire Fusiliers.

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He fought at Ypres. Ypres. I mean, that's synonymous

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with the absolute horror of trench warfare, gas

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attacks, mud, total destruction. That is the

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definition of hell on earth for that generation.

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It is. And he was one of only 17 men from his

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regiment to return from the Dardanelles campaign.

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17. Just 17. Imagine the ghostliness of that,

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being one of the few who made it back to your

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hometown when an entire generation of your neighbors

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just... Didn't. You walk down the street and

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every house you pass has a black ribbon on the

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door except yours. That is a staggering statistic.

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It almost feels statistically impossible. It

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does. And there's this incredible story, this

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almost miraculous anecdote that Hughes grew up

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hearing about his father. We call it the paybook

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story. Oh, I love this detail. It's the kind

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of family myth that becomes foundational for

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a child, isn't it? The kind of story that gets

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told at every Christmas until it just feels like

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a legend. Lay it out for us. So his father was

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in the thick of it. The bullets are flying. The

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chaos is absolute. And at one point, he was hit.

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A bullet struck him directly in the chest. Which

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should be the end of the story. A chest wound

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in World War I was usually a death sentence.

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It should be. But he had his paybook. You know,

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the little thick booklet soldiers carried that

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recorded their payments identification in his

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breath pocket. The bullet hit the book and lodged

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in it. It didn't penetrate his heart. That little

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book literally saved his life. That's cinematic.

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It's like something out of a movie, but it was

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real life for his father. I mean, if he had moved

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that book to his pants pocket, Ted Hughes never

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exists. Exactly. But think about the psychological

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weight of that on a child. Hughes's imagination

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was just filled with these stories of Flanders

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Fields. He describes it later in his poem, Out.

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Before he even began writing, his internal world

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was populated by death and survival. He was living

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in the aftermath of a massacre, essentially.

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He knew that his very existence depended on a

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thick booklet in a pocket stopping a piece of

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lead. That creates a very specific view of fate

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and chance. It makes the line between life and

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death feel incredibly thin. It makes life feel

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fragile. It makes death feel like a constant

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neighbor, someone who lives just next door. Exactly.

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He absorbed the silence of his father, the trauma

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that hung in the house. It wasn't spoken about

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constantly, but it was there. The no man's land

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wasn't just in France, it was in the living room.

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It was in the long pauses at the dinner table.

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And that theme of survival, of life and death

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being right next to each other, seems to just

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bleed into his hobbies, too. He wasn't just sitting

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around reading nursery rhymes. He was up there

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in the muck. He was a hunter. He loved fishing,

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swimming, picnicking with the family. But specifically,

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he was fascinated by capturing things. Capturing.

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That's a key word for him. It is. In his book

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Poetry in the Making, he recalled being fascinated

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by animals. He collected and drew toy -led creatures.

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But it went beyond toys. His older brother, Gerald,

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was a gamekeeper. Right. Now, a gamekeeper isn't

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an animal rights activist. A gamekeeper manages

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the land for hunting. So Ted was literally the

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retriever. Yes. When Gerald shot magpies, owls,

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rats, curlews, Ted would go get them. He was

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handling the dead bodies of these animals from

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a very young age. He wasn't shielded from the

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violence of the natural world. He was a participant

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in it. He knew the weight of a dead bird. He

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knew the smell of it. He knew what his eyes looked

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like when the light went out of them. There's

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a progression here that I find fascinating, and

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it's crucial to understanding his art. He starts

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by capturing animals, physically hunting them,

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retrieving them, and then over time, that impulse

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shifts. It shifts to poetry. This is the evolution

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of capturing. Right, from the physical to the

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metaphorical. And this is key to understanding

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his entire poetic philosophy. He realized that

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capturing a metaphorical animal in a poem was

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actually better, more potent than killing a real

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one. How so? Well, when you kill a fox, it's

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dead. It's static. It decomposes. It loses its

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spirit. But if you capture it in a poem, it lives

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forever. It has a permanent energy. It can be

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released into the reader's mind over and over

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and over again. This leads us directly to the

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thought fox, doesn't it? It does. This is arguably

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his most famous. Early poem. It was written later,

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when he was in London, but it's a vivid recollection

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of that Yorkshire landscape. The setting is intimate.

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He's sitting alone at night trying to write.

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The window is starless. The clock is ticking.

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The page is blank. And then he senses something.

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He imagines or summons a fox. Cold delicately

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is the dark snow. I love that imagery. Dark snow.

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It's so contradictory, but so evocative. It makes

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you feel the cold. The fox moves through the

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darkness, through the snow, touching twig and

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leaf. It's wary. It's a lame shadow. But it's

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coming closer. And eventually, with a sudden

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sharp hot stink of fox, it enters the dark hole

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of the head. And the poem ends with that line.

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The page is printed. I get chills every time

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I read that. It's like the act of writing is

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a shamanistic summons. He's calling the spirit

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of the animal into his mind. The fox isn't just

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a subject he's looking at. It's a force that

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enters him. It's possession. He has captured

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the fox without hurting it, and now it lives

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on the page. And that's the aha moment regarding

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his creative process. He's not describing the

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fox, he's manifesting it. This connects to his

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love of fishing, too. Hughes viewed fishing as

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an almost religious experience. He did. He learned

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a lot about wildlife from a friend's father,

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a gamekeeper at the Crick Hill Estate. But fishing?

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Fishing was special. It wasn't just a sport for

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Hughes. It was a connection to the primal world

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beneath the surface. You cast a line into the

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dark water. the unconscious, and you wait to

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see what live thrashing thing you can pull up

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into the air. That's exactly how he approached

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poetry. The poem is the fish, the mind is the

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water. You have to be patient, you have to be

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quiet, and you have to be ready to wrestle with

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whatever bites. So you have this boy from the

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Moors, obsessed with animals and death, deeply

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connected to the land, and then he goes off to

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university, and not just any university, Cambridge.

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Pembroke College, Cambridge. He won an open exhibition

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in English. This was a big deal for a boy from

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his background. That feels like a bit of a culture

00:12:04.740 --> 00:12:07.220
clash, doesn't it? The wild boy of Yorkshire

00:12:07.220 --> 00:12:09.820
meets the ivory tower, the tweed jackets, and

00:12:09.820 --> 00:12:13.240
the sherry parties. And he felt it. He did his

00:12:13.240 --> 00:12:15.879
national service first, in the RAF, where he

00:12:15.879 --> 00:12:17.820
spent a lot of time reading Shakespeare and watching

00:12:17.820 --> 00:12:20.820
grass grow in East Yorkshire. Literally. Literally.

00:12:20.860 --> 00:12:23.139
He was a ground wireless mechanic in an isolated

00:12:23.139 --> 00:12:25.580
spot, which gave him plenty of time to read.

00:12:25.940 --> 00:12:28.700
But when he got to Cambridge in 1951 to study

00:12:28.700 --> 00:12:32.059
English, The reality set in. He hated it. He

00:12:32.059 --> 00:12:35.080
felt stifled. He famously described literary

00:12:35.080 --> 00:12:39.220
academia as a terrible, suffocating maternal

00:12:39.220 --> 00:12:42.080
octopus. Maternal octopus. That is quite the

00:12:42.080 --> 00:12:45.259
image. Sticky, clinging, dragging you down. It

00:12:45.259 --> 00:12:48.279
is. He felt that the academic dissection of texts

00:12:48.700 --> 00:12:51.059
The Leavis -style dismantling, as it was called

00:12:51.059 --> 00:12:54.320
then, named after the famous critic F .R. Leavis,

00:12:54.360 --> 00:12:56.259
who dominated Cambridge English at the time,

00:12:56.320 --> 00:12:59.159
was destroying his creative impulse. Right. He

00:12:59.159 --> 00:13:01.039
said he had a talent for it, even a sadistic

00:13:01.039 --> 00:13:03.799
streak for dismantling texts. But he realized

00:13:03.799 --> 00:13:06.080
it was a foolish game that was deeply destructive

00:13:06.080 --> 00:13:08.740
to himself. He felt like he was killing the poetry

00:13:08.740 --> 00:13:11.460
by analyzing it to death. He was dissecting the

00:13:11.460 --> 00:13:13.620
animal instead of letting it live. So he made

00:13:13.620 --> 00:13:16.139
a move, a pivot. He didn't drop out, but he changed

00:13:16.139 --> 00:13:19.080
lanes. In his third year, he transferred. He

00:13:19.080 --> 00:13:21.840
switched his major to anthropology and archaeology.

00:13:21.960 --> 00:13:25.019
Okay, let's unpack this. Why is that switch so

00:13:25.019 --> 00:13:27.360
important for the listener to understand? Why

00:13:27.360 --> 00:13:29.740
does it matter that he studied bones and tribes

00:13:29.740 --> 00:13:32.419
instead of sonnets? Because it moved him away

00:13:32.419 --> 00:13:35.820
from the polite, genteel tradition of English

00:13:35.820 --> 00:13:38.039
literature. You know, the drawing rooms and the

00:13:38.039 --> 00:13:41.100
social manners and toward folklore, shamanism

00:13:41.100 --> 00:13:44.620
and myths. He started reading about totems, about

00:13:44.620 --> 00:13:46.960
ancient cultures, about how tribal societies

00:13:46.960 --> 00:13:49.940
viewed the spirit world. This is where he gets

00:13:49.940 --> 00:13:52.500
the tools to build his later mythology. He's

00:13:52.500 --> 00:13:56.120
not trying to be a polite English gentleman poet.

00:13:56.259 --> 00:13:59.000
He's trying to tap into something older, something

00:13:59.000 --> 00:14:01.899
closer to the bone. He's learning how shamans

00:14:01.899 --> 00:14:04.200
and other cultures interacted with the spirit

00:14:04.200 --> 00:14:06.370
world. He's trading Jane Austen for the witch

00:14:06.370 --> 00:14:09.250
doctor. Effectively, yes. And that education

00:14:09.250 --> 00:14:11.210
gave him a completely different framework than

00:14:11.210 --> 00:14:13.529
his peers. While they were worrying about rhyme

00:14:13.529 --> 00:14:15.710
schemes, he was worrying about how to summon

00:14:15.710 --> 00:14:18.529
rain. And it's while he's at Cambridge, amidst

00:14:18.529 --> 00:14:20.970
this intellectual rebellion, that the most significant

00:14:20.970 --> 00:14:24.629
meeting of his life happens. February 25th, 1956.

00:14:25.309 --> 00:14:27.549
The launch party for the St. Bothol's Review.

00:14:27.980 --> 00:14:30.480
This is a legendary night in literary history.

00:14:30.600 --> 00:14:32.820
The kind of night biographers dream about. It

00:14:32.820 --> 00:14:35.419
is. Hughes had four poems in this review. He

00:14:35.419 --> 00:14:38.159
was there with his friends, celebrating. And

00:14:38.159 --> 00:14:40.919
enter Sylvia Plath. She was there on a Fulbright

00:14:40.919 --> 00:14:43.399
scholarship. Right. She was studying at Newnham

00:14:43.399 --> 00:14:46.500
College, Cambridge. But she wasn't just a student.

00:14:46.539 --> 00:14:48.299
She was already an accomplished writer. She had

00:14:48.299 --> 00:14:50.539
published extensively in the U .S., won multiple

00:14:50.539 --> 00:14:53.360
awards. And she went to that party specifically

00:14:53.360 --> 00:14:56.309
to meet Hughes. Oh, really? She'd read his work

00:14:56.309 --> 00:14:58.669
in the review. She recognized the power in it.

00:14:58.750 --> 00:15:01.169
She wanted to know the man behind those poems.

00:15:01.350 --> 00:15:03.929
She hunted him down. In a way. And the interaction

00:15:03.929 --> 00:15:06.169
was electric. It was instant, intense, mutual

00:15:06.169 --> 00:15:08.330
attraction. There are accounts of this meeting.

00:15:08.429 --> 00:15:10.470
Plath wrote about it in her journals. It was

00:15:10.470 --> 00:15:12.549
physical. It was loud. It was violent in its

00:15:12.549 --> 00:15:15.070
intensity. Violent. She bit him on the cheek,

00:15:15.190 --> 00:15:18.210
drawing blood. She bit him. Yes. It was a mark

00:15:18.210 --> 00:15:20.870
of ownership or recognition. It wasn't a polite

00:15:20.870 --> 00:15:23.450
handshake. It was two predators meeting in the

00:15:23.450 --> 00:15:26.049
wild. It set the tone for everything that followed.

00:15:26.250 --> 00:15:28.970
It was passion, but it was a dangerous kind of

00:15:28.970 --> 00:15:31.289
passion. We hear so much about the end of their

00:15:31.289 --> 00:15:33.549
relationship, but the beginning sounds like a

00:15:33.549 --> 00:15:36.330
whirlwind romance. It was incredibly fast. They

00:15:36.330 --> 00:15:38.350
met in late February. They didn't meet again

00:15:38.350 --> 00:15:42.970
for a month. But then, on June 16, 1956, just

00:15:42.970 --> 00:15:45.279
four months after that first meeting, They were

00:15:45.279 --> 00:15:49.139
married. June 16, Bloomsday. Exactly. In honor

00:15:49.139 --> 00:15:51.620
of the Irish writer James Joyce and his novel

00:15:51.620 --> 00:15:53.779
Ulysses, that tells you everything about how

00:15:53.779 --> 00:15:55.940
seriously they took literature. It wasn't just

00:15:55.940 --> 00:15:58.039
a job. It was their religion. They married on

00:15:58.039 --> 00:16:00.440
the day celebrating literature. Plath's mother

00:16:00.440 --> 00:16:02.740
was the only guest at the wedding. And in those

00:16:02.740 --> 00:16:04.919
early days, it wasn't a tragedy. It was a partnership.

00:16:05.100 --> 00:16:07.480
I think people forget that. It was a period of

00:16:07.480 --> 00:16:09.840
avid mutual support. We have to remember that.

00:16:09.960 --> 00:16:11.740
It wasn't all doom and gloom from the start.

00:16:11.899 --> 00:16:14.850
They lived in Cambridge, then America. They were

00:16:14.850 --> 00:16:18.370
both writing furiously. Plath typed his manuscripts.

00:16:18.629 --> 00:16:21.049
In fact, she submitted his collection, The Hawk

00:16:21.049 --> 00:16:23.529
in the Rain, to a competition run by the Poetry

00:16:23.529 --> 00:16:25.950
Center in New York. She did. So she was instrumental

00:16:25.950 --> 00:16:28.889
in his first big break. Absolutely. She believed

00:16:28.889 --> 00:16:31.129
in his genius. She was his biggest champion.

00:16:31.269 --> 00:16:34.230
The prize was publication by Harper. It won.

00:16:34.549 --> 00:16:37.269
And it gained widespread critical acclaim. He

00:16:37.269 --> 00:16:39.909
won a Somerset Maugham Award. Suddenly, Hughes

00:16:39.909 --> 00:16:41.850
wasn't just a student with potential. He was

00:16:41.850 --> 00:16:44.700
a star. And the critics noticed something different

00:16:44.700 --> 00:16:46.559
about him immediately, didn't they? It goes back

00:16:46.559 --> 00:16:48.179
to that sound we talked about. They did. They

00:16:48.179 --> 00:16:50.740
noted his style was distinct. At the time, there

00:16:50.740 --> 00:16:53.220
was a movement called The Movement. Very rational,

00:16:53.340 --> 00:16:56.139
ironic, understated poetry. Philip Larkin was

00:16:56.139 --> 00:16:58.059
the face of it. It was very English, very contained.

00:16:58.519 --> 00:17:01.240
Hughes blew that out of the water. While others

00:17:01.240 --> 00:17:04.240
were using genteel, latinate sounds. Words derived

00:17:04.240 --> 00:17:07.480
from Latin. Very flowery, very smooth, very intellectual.

00:17:07.880 --> 00:17:10.740
Hughes was using hard -hitting trochees and spondees.

00:17:11.279 --> 00:17:13.940
Prochees and spondees. Okay, for those of us

00:17:13.940 --> 00:17:15.880
who haven't brushed up on our poetic meter lately,

00:17:16.119 --> 00:17:18.059
what does that actually sound like? Think of

00:17:18.059 --> 00:17:20.559
a drum. It sounds like Middle English. It sounds

00:17:20.559 --> 00:17:24.279
like Beowulf. It's percussive. A trochee is a

00:17:24.279 --> 00:17:27.099
stressed syllable followed by an unstressed one.

00:17:27.240 --> 00:17:30.799
D -U -M -D -A. A spondee is two stressed syllables.

00:17:31.349 --> 00:17:33.710
D -U -M -D -U -N -D -A. So instead of a flowing

00:17:33.710 --> 00:17:35.890
river, it sounds like rocks banging together.

00:17:36.049 --> 00:17:39.470
Bam, bam, bam, bam. It felt ancient and modern

00:17:39.470 --> 00:17:41.809
at the same time. It cut through the politeness

00:17:41.809 --> 00:17:44.630
of 1950s poetry like a knife. It sounded like

00:17:44.630 --> 00:17:46.529
the Yorkshire Moors. It's the sound of boots

00:17:46.529 --> 00:17:48.750
sucking out of the mud. Exactly. It's physical

00:17:48.750 --> 00:17:50.670
language. It's language that has weight. So they

00:17:50.670 --> 00:17:52.670
are the golden couple. They move to America,

00:17:52.769 --> 00:17:55.109
where he teaches at UMass Amherst. They meet

00:17:55.109 --> 00:17:57.250
the artist Leonard Baskin, who becomes a lifelong

00:17:57.250 --> 00:17:59.269
collaborator. Then they come back to England

00:17:59.269 --> 00:18:02.190
in 1959. They have children, Frida and Nicholas.

00:18:02.450 --> 00:18:05.130
They buy a house in Devon, Court Green, in 1961.

00:18:05.490 --> 00:18:08.170
It sounds perfect. On the surface. But we know

00:18:08.170 --> 00:18:10.480
now. from biographies and later from birthday

00:18:10.480 --> 00:18:12.859
letters, that there were chasms of difference

00:18:12.859 --> 00:18:15.599
between them. Plath had a history of depression

00:18:15.599 --> 00:18:18.160
and suicide attempts that she didn't fully reveal

00:18:18.160 --> 00:18:21.299
to him until later. Her mental health was precarious,

00:18:21.359 --> 00:18:23.839
but they were trying. They were building a life,

00:18:23.940 --> 00:18:26.400
planting a garden, raising children. And then

00:18:26.400 --> 00:18:29.660
came 1962, the summer of 1962. This is where

00:18:29.660 --> 00:18:31.119
the story turns. This is the beginning of the

00:18:31.119 --> 00:18:34.200
tragedy. Hughes begins an affair. With Asia Weevil.

00:18:34.599 --> 00:18:36.380
She had been subletting their London flat with

00:18:36.380 --> 00:18:38.500
her husband, David Weevil, who was also a poet.

00:18:38.599 --> 00:18:42.359
It's a tangled web. Asia was charismatic, beautiful,

00:18:42.579 --> 00:18:45.779
and worldly. The affair was the catalyst. It

00:18:45.779 --> 00:18:48.240
shattered the domestic life they had built. Under

00:18:48.240 --> 00:18:50.720
the cloud of this affair, Plath and Hughes separated

00:18:50.720 --> 00:18:53.680
in the autumn of 1962. And this leads to that

00:18:53.680 --> 00:18:56.160
terrible winter. One of the coldest winters in

00:18:56.160 --> 00:19:00.019
British history. The big freeze of 1963. The

00:19:00.019 --> 00:19:02.799
snow was feet deep. Plath moves back to London

00:19:02.799 --> 00:19:05.180
with the two children, Frida and Nicholas. The

00:19:05.180 --> 00:19:07.940
pipes are freezing. There's severe frost. She's

00:19:07.940 --> 00:19:10.359
isolated. It was a brutal time physically and

00:19:10.359 --> 00:19:12.259
emotionally. She was writing the aerial poems

00:19:12.259 --> 00:19:15.000
at this time, waking up at 4 a .m. to write before

00:19:15.000 --> 00:19:17.839
the kids woke up. It was a creative explosion

00:19:17.839 --> 00:19:21.180
fueled by rage and sorrow. And on February 11,

00:19:21.420 --> 00:19:25.380
1963, Plath takes her own life. She places her

00:19:25.380 --> 00:19:27.980
head in a gas oven while her children are asleep

00:19:27.980 --> 00:19:30.539
in the next room. She had carefully taped up

00:19:30.539 --> 00:19:32.220
the door to their room to protect him from the

00:19:32.220 --> 00:19:34.619
gas, leaving mugs of milk and bread for them.

00:19:34.759 --> 00:19:37.839
Where was Hughes? He was in London. But he wasn't

00:19:37.839 --> 00:19:39.859
with her. He was with his lover at the time,

00:19:39.940 --> 00:19:43.440
Susan Alliston. That detail, knowing he was with

00:19:43.440 --> 00:19:45.779
someone else while this was happening, it adds

00:19:45.779 --> 00:19:49.079
such a layer of guilt to the narrative. And Hughes

00:19:49.079 --> 00:19:50.759
was devastated. Yeah. To be clear about that.

00:19:50.920 --> 00:19:52.619
Whatever the state of their marriage, this was

00:19:52.619 --> 00:19:55.019
a cataclysmic event for him. He wrote poems like

00:19:55.019 --> 00:19:57.640
The Howling of Wolves and Song of a Rat immediately

00:19:57.640 --> 00:20:01.460
after expressing this raw animal grief. And then

00:20:01.460 --> 00:20:04.539
he went silent. Right. Poetically silent for

00:20:04.539 --> 00:20:07.480
three years. He focused on broadcasting, essays,

00:20:07.599 --> 00:20:10.480
reviews, anything but his own poetry. He couldn't

00:20:10.480 --> 00:20:13.000
access that part of himself. But silence in his

00:20:13.000 --> 00:20:15.339
poetry didn't mean silence in the public sphere.

00:20:15.640 --> 00:20:18.460
Because now he had a new role. He wasn't just

00:20:18.460 --> 00:20:21.279
the grieving husband. He was the literary executor.

00:20:21.400 --> 00:20:23.579
And this is where the controversy really ignites.

00:20:23.579 --> 00:20:25.819
This is what defines the next 30 years of his

00:20:25.819 --> 00:20:29.519
life. As her widower, he controlled her estate.

00:20:29.759 --> 00:20:32.940
He controlled her words. He owned the copyright

00:20:32.940 --> 00:20:36.099
to her genius. And he made some choices that

00:20:36.099 --> 00:20:38.660
people are still angry about today. He oversaw

00:20:38.660 --> 00:20:40.720
the posthumous publication of her manuscripts,

00:20:41.019 --> 00:20:44.380
including Ariel in 1965. This is the book that

00:20:44.380 --> 00:20:47.440
made her a legend. But he edited it. He changed

00:20:47.440 --> 00:20:49.480
the order of the poems from what she had intended.

00:20:49.799 --> 00:20:52.099
How so? She ended her manuscript with a note

00:20:52.099 --> 00:20:54.819
of hope, with bees flying in spring. He ended

00:20:54.819 --> 00:20:57.079
his version with death. And he left poems out.

00:20:57.240 --> 00:21:00.119
He did. He omitted poems like The Jailer and

00:21:00.119 --> 00:21:02.259
The Rabbit Catcher. These are powerful poems.

00:21:02.559 --> 00:21:04.619
Well, those poems depicted themes of domestic

00:21:04.619 --> 00:21:08.049
abuse and rape. They were incredibly harsh. arguably

00:21:08.049 --> 00:21:10.769
directed at him. His defense later was that they

00:21:10.769 --> 00:21:13.650
were personally aggressive. He said he omitted

00:21:13.650 --> 00:21:15.710
them to protect the children. He didn't want

00:21:15.710 --> 00:21:17.589
them growing up reading their mother describing

00:21:17.589 --> 00:21:20.369
their father as a jailer. He felt a duty to his

00:21:20.369 --> 00:21:22.750
children that superseded his duty to literature.

00:21:23.369 --> 00:21:25.490
But to the feminist critics emerging in the late

00:21:25.490 --> 00:21:27.950
60s and 70s. To them, this looked like censorship.

00:21:28.210 --> 00:21:30.150
It looked like the patriarch silencing the woman

00:21:30.150 --> 00:21:32.069
even after death. It looked like he was trying

00:21:32.069 --> 00:21:34.630
to curate her legacy to protect his own reputation.

00:21:34.970 --> 00:21:37.809
They felt he was sanitizing her anger to make

00:21:37.809 --> 00:21:39.970
himself look better. And then there's the journal.

00:21:40.190 --> 00:21:43.450
The infamous burned journal. Yes. This is the

00:21:43.450 --> 00:21:46.210
hardest one for scholars to swallow. Hughes admitted

00:21:46.210 --> 00:21:48.809
to destroying Plath's final journal. The one

00:21:48.809 --> 00:21:50.549
that detailed their last few months together.

00:21:50.869 --> 00:21:53.799
The maroon -backed ledger. He burned it. destroyed

00:21:53.799 --> 00:21:56.259
it. He claimed he did it to protect their children,

00:21:56.480 --> 00:21:59.359
Frida and Nicholas. He didn't want them to ever

00:21:59.359 --> 00:22:02.000
read the painful details of that time, the breakdown

00:22:02.000 --> 00:22:04.619
of the marriage, the despair. But later, in a

00:22:04.619 --> 00:22:07.220
letter to The Guardian in 1989, he said something

00:22:07.220 --> 00:22:11.200
fascinating. He wrote, The fantasia about Sylvia

00:22:11.200 --> 00:22:14.000
Plath is more needed than the facts. That is

00:22:14.000 --> 00:22:16.740
a loaded statement. The fantasia is more needed

00:22:16.740 --> 00:22:19.549
than the facts. It suggests he felt the public

00:22:19.549 --> 00:22:21.750
had already created a myth, the fantasy of St.

00:22:21.809 --> 00:22:24.029
Sylvia and the demon Ted, and the messy truth,

00:22:24.250 --> 00:22:26.390
which might have been even more painful or complex,

00:22:26.710 --> 00:22:29.190
wasn't worth preserving in the face of that overwhelming

00:22:29.190 --> 00:22:32.230
desire for a story. He felt he couldn't compete

00:22:32.230 --> 00:22:35.950
with the myth. Exactly. But to historians, destroying

00:22:35.950 --> 00:22:38.809
the final words of a genius is considered a cardinal

00:22:38.809 --> 00:22:41.690
sin. It's burning history. And the backlash was

00:22:41.690 --> 00:22:44.769
fierce. Fierce is an understatement. It was vitriolic.

00:22:45.180 --> 00:22:47.299
Activists claimed he murdered her. They would

00:22:47.299 --> 00:22:49.819
show up at his readings chanting murderer. It

00:22:49.819 --> 00:22:52.519
was a trial by public opinion and he had no defense.

00:22:52.880 --> 00:22:55.200
There was that poem by Robin Morgan, right? Arraignment.

00:22:55.220 --> 00:22:57.940
It accused him directly. It linked him to the

00:22:57.940 --> 00:23:00.660
battery and rape themes in Plath's work. Hughes

00:23:00.660 --> 00:23:02.960
actually threatened to sue for libel and the

00:23:02.960 --> 00:23:05.519
poem was suppressed in some editions. But the

00:23:05.519 --> 00:23:07.640
sentiment was out there. He was the villain of

00:23:07.640 --> 00:23:10.019
the story. It got so bad that people would travel

00:23:10.019 --> 00:23:13.200
to Plath's grave in Hepton's stall. And vandalize

00:23:13.200 --> 00:23:15.759
it. They would chisel the name Hughes off the

00:23:15.759 --> 00:23:19.079
gravestone, repeatedly, leaving only Sylvia Plath.

00:23:19.140 --> 00:23:21.799
They wanted to erase him from her history, just

00:23:21.799 --> 00:23:23.759
as they felt he had tried to erase parts of her

00:23:23.759 --> 00:23:26.460
work. It became a battleground. He would have

00:23:26.460 --> 00:23:28.700
the stone repaired, and they would deface it

00:23:28.700 --> 00:23:31.920
again. It's a war over memory. A war over who

00:23:31.920 --> 00:23:34.640
owns the narrative. And then, as if this story

00:23:34.640 --> 00:23:37.059
couldn't get any darker, history repeats itself.

00:23:37.500 --> 00:23:41.680
1969, six years after Plath. Is you evil. The

00:23:41.680 --> 00:23:43.660
woman Hughes left Plath for. They had stayed

00:23:43.660 --> 00:23:45.640
together, on and off. They had a daughter together

00:23:45.640 --> 00:23:49.359
named Shura. On March 23, 1969, Aisha Weevil

00:23:49.359 --> 00:23:52.380
took her own life. And the method? Gas asphyxiation.

00:23:52.660 --> 00:23:55.579
The same way Plath died. But even more tragically,

00:23:55.680 --> 00:23:58.240
she killed her daughter Shura as well. She gave

00:23:58.240 --> 00:23:59.980
the child sleeping pills and turned on the gas.

00:24:00.180 --> 00:24:03.660
That is horrific. It is unspeakable. And for

00:24:03.660 --> 00:24:06.900
the public, this cemented the narrative. Hughes

00:24:06.900 --> 00:24:09.980
wasn't just a bad husband. He was seen as a destructive

00:24:09.980 --> 00:24:13.920
force, a blue beard figure, two women, dead by

00:24:13.920 --> 00:24:17.220
the same method in his orbit. It seemed to confirm

00:24:17.220 --> 00:24:19.740
the darkest suspicions about him that he was

00:24:19.740 --> 00:24:21.799
a man who destroyed the woman who loved him.

00:24:22.000 --> 00:24:23.819
So how do you write poetry after that? I mean,

00:24:23.839 --> 00:24:26.220
how do you create art when your life has become

00:24:26.220 --> 00:24:29.220
this gothic horror story? You reinvent the universe.

00:24:29.299 --> 00:24:31.740
You create Crow. Crow. This is one of his most

00:24:31.740 --> 00:24:34.240
famous and most divisive works. It came out in

00:24:34.240 --> 00:24:37.400
1970 right in the shadow of all this death. Crow

00:24:37.400 --> 00:24:39.660
is unlike anything else in English poetry. It's

00:24:39.660 --> 00:24:41.859
a cosmology. It was written during his relationship

00:24:41.859 --> 00:24:44.220
with Weevil and published after her death. It

00:24:44.220 --> 00:24:46.420
is dedicated to the memory of Aisha and Shura.

00:24:46.660 --> 00:24:49.049
Crow is a character. A trickster, a survivor,

00:24:49.309 --> 00:24:52.609
an alter ego. It's not a nice bird. No. It's

00:24:52.609 --> 00:24:54.809
apocalyptic. It's bitter. It's cynical. Well.

00:24:54.990 --> 00:24:57.309
But it's also weirdly childlike. There's a specific

00:24:57.309 --> 00:25:00.829
poem, Crow Blacker Than Ever, that captures this

00:25:00.829 --> 00:25:03.250
perfectly. Do you have it there? I do. Listen

00:25:03.250 --> 00:25:06.069
to this imagery. When God, disgusted with man,

00:25:06.230 --> 00:25:08.690
turned towards heaven, and man, disgusted with

00:25:08.690 --> 00:25:11.750
God, turned towards Eve, things look like falling

00:25:11.750 --> 00:25:15.559
apart. But Crow... Crow nailed them together,

00:25:15.720 --> 00:25:18.640
nailing heaven and earth together. So man cried,

00:25:18.720 --> 00:25:21.779
but with God's voice. And God bled, but with

00:25:21.779 --> 00:25:25.220
man's blood. Exactly. Crow grinned, crying, this

00:25:25.220 --> 00:25:27.619
is my creation, flying the black flag of himself.

00:25:27.980 --> 00:25:30.680
Wow. It's like he's saying the universe is broken,

00:25:30.839 --> 00:25:33.380
God is bleeding, and this ugly black bird is

00:25:33.380 --> 00:25:35.140
the only thing holding it together with a rusty

00:25:35.140 --> 00:25:37.519
nail. That's it. He moved away from standard

00:25:37.519 --> 00:25:40.539
nature poetry into something much darker, a surreal,

00:25:40.599 --> 00:25:43.900
totemic cosmology. He was trying to find a myth

00:25:43.900 --> 00:25:45.819
that could contain the violence he had experienced.

00:25:46.099 --> 00:25:48.160
He couldn't write pretty poems about flowers

00:25:48.160 --> 00:25:50.799
anymore. He needed a monster to explain the world.

00:25:50.839 --> 00:25:52.740
He needed a survivor who could eat anything,

00:25:52.880 --> 00:25:56.269
endure anything. That was Crow. And this brings

00:25:56.269 --> 00:25:58.390
us back to his view of nature in general. We

00:25:58.390 --> 00:26:00.670
talked about the moors earlier. But Hughes's

00:26:00.670 --> 00:26:02.750
animals, the hawk, the jaguar, the crow, they

00:26:02.750 --> 00:26:04.809
aren't cute. They aren't Disney characters. They

00:26:04.809 --> 00:26:07.329
are absolutely not cute. They are Darwinian.

00:26:07.509 --> 00:26:09.990
Look at hawk roosting. The poem is written from

00:26:09.990 --> 00:26:11.789
the hawk's point of view. It's arrogant. The

00:26:11.789 --> 00:26:13.890
hawk says, I kill where I please because it is

00:26:13.890 --> 00:26:17.250
all mine. It says, there's no sophistry in my

00:26:17.250 --> 00:26:19.910
body. My manners are tearing off heads. Tearing

00:26:19.910 --> 00:26:23.250
off heads. It's pure power. No morality. It is.

00:26:23.549 --> 00:26:26.549
Hughes believed that we, as modern humans, suffer

00:26:26.549 --> 00:26:29.410
from a dualistic split in our psyche. We separate

00:26:29.410 --> 00:26:31.450
ourselves from our animal nature. We pretend

00:26:31.450 --> 00:26:33.589
we aren't violent. We pretend we aren't driven

00:26:33.589 --> 00:26:37.069
by instinct. His goal with these poems wasn't

00:26:37.069 --> 00:26:39.890
just to describe a bird. It was to heal that

00:26:39.890 --> 00:26:42.410
split, to force us to look at the violence and

00:26:42.410 --> 00:26:44.769
beauty of the world without flinching. To accept

00:26:44.769 --> 00:26:47.589
the hawk inside us. Exactly. Because if we deny

00:26:47.589 --> 00:26:50.630
it, it comes out in other worse ways like war.

00:26:51.130 --> 00:26:53.910
But here is the paradox of Ted Hughes. He wasn't

00:26:53.910 --> 00:26:55.630
just writing nightmares, he was also writing

00:26:55.630 --> 00:26:58.250
for children. And this is a side of Hughes that

00:26:58.250 --> 00:27:00.349
people often forget, or they don't connect it

00:27:00.349 --> 00:27:02.950
to the tragedy, the Iron Man. Yes, or the Iron

00:27:02.950 --> 00:27:05.430
Giant, as movie fans might know it from the animated

00:27:05.430 --> 00:27:08.250
film. I grew up watching that movie. I had no

00:27:08.250 --> 00:27:10.130
idea it was written by Ted Hughes until much

00:27:10.130 --> 00:27:12.730
later. And the origin of that story is heartbreaking.

00:27:13.250 --> 00:27:15.769
He wrote it specifically to comfort his children,

00:27:16.009 --> 00:27:18.670
Frida and Nicholas, after their mother's suicide.

00:27:19.069 --> 00:27:22.240
Really? Yes. Think about the story. It's about

00:27:22.240 --> 00:27:26.079
a giant who is broken apart. He falls off a cliff

00:27:26.079 --> 00:27:29.019
and shatters. And he has to pull himself back

00:27:29.019 --> 00:27:31.359
together piece by piece. An ear here, a hand

00:27:31.359 --> 00:27:33.880
there. Right. It's about a monster finding a

00:27:33.880 --> 00:27:36.059
place in the world. It's a story of reconstruction

00:27:36.059 --> 00:27:39.880
and healing. It stands in such stark contrast

00:27:39.880 --> 00:27:42.579
to Crow. It shows his range. He could channel

00:27:42.579 --> 00:27:44.660
that darkness, but he could also offer this incredible

00:27:44.660 --> 00:27:47.019
tenderness and hope for his children. He was

00:27:47.019 --> 00:27:49.480
trying to give them a myth of survival, a way

00:27:49.480 --> 00:27:51.440
to put themselves back together. And he didn't

00:27:51.440 --> 00:27:53.700
stop there with children. He served as the president

00:27:53.700 --> 00:27:56.099
of the charity farms for city children, established

00:27:56.099 --> 00:27:58.400
by his friend Michael Morpurgo. What was the

00:27:58.400 --> 00:28:01.200
goal there? He wanted kids from the city to experience

00:28:01.200 --> 00:28:03.720
the mud and the reality of the farm, just like

00:28:03.720 --> 00:28:06.069
he did in Mithomroid. He believed the connection

00:28:06.069 --> 00:28:08.769
to the land was vital for the human soul. He

00:28:08.769 --> 00:28:10.910
didn't want nature to be an abstract concept

00:28:10.910 --> 00:28:13.089
for them. He wanted them to get their hands dirty.

00:28:13.589 --> 00:28:16.509
So we move into the later years. He has remarried

00:28:16.509 --> 00:28:19.930
to Carol Orchard in 1970, a nurse. They stay

00:28:19.930 --> 00:28:22.210
together until the end, finding a stability he

00:28:22.210 --> 00:28:25.809
lacked before. And then in 1984, the establishment

00:28:25.809 --> 00:28:29.230
calls. The Poet Laureate. He succeeds John Betjeman,

00:28:29.390 --> 00:28:32.089
but he wasn't the first choice, was he? No, Philip

00:28:32.089 --> 00:28:34.819
Larkin was the preferred nominee. Larkin is another

00:28:34.819 --> 00:28:37.859
giant of British poetry, famous for his glum,

00:28:37.859 --> 00:28:40.940
witty verse. But Larkin declined. He had writer's

00:28:40.940 --> 00:28:43.279
block, his health was failing, and he felt he

00:28:43.279 --> 00:28:45.740
had lost his creative momentum. He famously said

00:28:45.740 --> 00:28:47.500
he wouldn't be any good at it, so Hughes took

00:28:47.500 --> 00:28:49.440
the mantle. It seems like an odd fit. The wild

00:28:49.440 --> 00:28:52.140
man of the Moors, the shaman, the man with the

00:28:52.140 --> 00:28:54.420
scandalous past, writing poems for the queen.

00:28:54.700 --> 00:28:57.259
It was a bit awkward. He wrote poems for royal

00:28:57.259 --> 00:28:59.859
occasions, collected in rain charm for the duchy.

00:29:00.160 --> 00:29:02.720
They aren't generally considered his best work.

00:29:02.880 --> 00:29:06.420
It's hard to bring that raw crow energy to a

00:29:06.420 --> 00:29:08.880
royal wedding or a christening. You can't exactly

00:29:08.880 --> 00:29:11.359
write about tearing off heads at a royal baptism.

00:29:11.680 --> 00:29:14.220
You really can't. But he took the role seriously.

00:29:14.339 --> 00:29:17.420
He used the platform to advocate for things he

00:29:17.420 --> 00:29:19.559
cared about. Particularly river conservation.

00:29:20.099 --> 00:29:22.539
The fishing. Again, it always comes back to the

00:29:22.539 --> 00:29:26.339
water. In 1994, alarmed by the decline of fish

00:29:26.339 --> 00:29:29.160
and rivers local to his Devonshire home, he became

00:29:29.160 --> 00:29:31.279
a founding trustee of the West Country Rivers

00:29:31.279 --> 00:29:33.960
Trust. He wasn't just a figurehead. No, he was

00:29:33.960 --> 00:29:36.660
active. He saw the decline of fish populations

00:29:36.660 --> 00:29:39.579
as a sign of environmental collapse. He understood

00:29:39.579 --> 00:29:41.680
that if the rivers are dying, the land is dying.

00:29:41.819 --> 00:29:44.160
He was an environmentalist deeply connected to

00:29:44.160 --> 00:29:46.859
the local ecosystem long before it was a mainstream

00:29:46.859 --> 00:29:50.220
celebrity cause. But while he was being the laureate,

00:29:50.240 --> 00:29:53.230
he was also diving deep into the esoteric. He

00:29:53.230 --> 00:29:55.450
wrote this massive prose work called Shakespeare

00:29:55.450 --> 00:29:58.869
and the Goddess of Complete Being. 1992. This

00:29:58.869 --> 00:30:01.369
book, well, it had a mixed reception. He was

00:30:01.369 --> 00:30:03.529
obsessed with Robert Graves as the white goddess.

00:30:03.829 --> 00:30:06.609
He believed there was this single overarching

00:30:06.609 --> 00:30:09.509
mythic structure to all great poetry, the great

00:30:09.509 --> 00:30:12.839
goddess, the cycle of birth and death. And he

00:30:12.839 --> 00:30:15.259
tried to apply that to Shakespeare's entire canon.

00:30:15.400 --> 00:30:18.420
That sounds ambitious. It was monumental. Some

00:30:18.420 --> 00:30:20.119
people thought it was an important original appreciation.

00:30:20.539 --> 00:30:23.480
Others dismissed it as idiosyncratic. Basically,

00:30:23.680 --> 00:30:26.059
Hughes projecting his own shamanistic belief

00:30:26.059 --> 00:30:28.880
system onto Shakespeare. And Hughes himself thought

00:30:28.880 --> 00:30:31.640
writing it hurt him. He did. He later suggested

00:30:31.640 --> 00:30:33.980
that the time spent writing that prose, that

00:30:33.980 --> 00:30:36.799
analytical heavy prose, was directly responsible

00:30:36.799 --> 00:30:39.240
for a decline in his health. He believed that

00:30:39.240 --> 00:30:41.960
writing poetry released energy, but writing prose

00:30:41.960 --> 00:30:44.509
consumed it. He felt he had exhausted his vital

00:30:44.509 --> 00:30:47.529
force on that book. And then in 1998, just months

00:30:47.529 --> 00:30:50.049
before his death, he drops a bomb. Birthday letters.

00:30:50.210 --> 00:30:52.970
After 35 years of silence, after refusing to

00:30:52.970 --> 00:30:55.630
discuss Plath, after burning the journal, after

00:30:55.630 --> 00:30:58.190
the grave vandalism, he publishes a collection

00:30:58.190 --> 00:31:00.730
explicitly addressing their relationship. It

00:31:00.730 --> 00:31:03.009
was a literary sensation. I mean, you have to

00:31:03.009 --> 00:31:04.690
understand, people had been waiting for this

00:31:04.690 --> 00:31:06.930
for decades. They assumed he would never speak.

00:31:07.089 --> 00:31:09.589
And suddenly here it was. It wasn't defensive.

00:31:09.849 --> 00:31:12.950
It wasn't angry. It was tender. It won the Whitbread

00:31:12.950 --> 00:31:16.029
Prize. It did. It's a conversation with her ghost.

00:31:16.210 --> 00:31:19.130
He addresses her directly as you throughout the

00:31:19.130 --> 00:31:21.250
book. He revisits their meeting, their marriage,

00:31:21.390 --> 00:31:23.509
the tragedy. He admits his own bewilderment.

00:31:23.630 --> 00:31:26.369
He describes the chasms between them. It was

00:31:26.369 --> 00:31:29.029
his way of reclaiming the narrative, not by fighting

00:31:29.029 --> 00:31:31.670
the critics, but by speaking to her. It broke

00:31:31.670 --> 00:31:33.950
the dam. And there is even one more poem discovered

00:31:33.950 --> 00:31:37.250
much later. Last letter. Discovered in the British

00:31:37.250 --> 00:31:40.210
Library Archives in 2010, it details the three

00:31:40.210 --> 00:31:42.420
days leading up to her suicide. What does it

00:31:42.420 --> 00:31:44.819
say? It describes what happened. The frantic

00:31:44.819 --> 00:31:47.279
driving between London and Devon. The confusion.

00:31:47.519 --> 00:31:50.339
The moment of the news. Carol Ann Duffy, the

00:31:50.339 --> 00:31:52.359
poet laureate at the time, called it his darkest

00:31:52.359 --> 00:31:55.279
poem. She said it was almost unbearable to read.

00:31:55.640 --> 00:31:57.740
It shows that he was replaying those final moments

00:31:57.740 --> 00:32:00.359
in his head for his entire life. He never really

00:32:00.359 --> 00:32:03.019
escaped that weekend in 1963. It was a wound

00:32:03.019 --> 00:32:05.539
that never closed. So let's bring this to a close.

00:32:05.980 --> 00:32:08.740
The final days. He was appointed to the Order

00:32:08.740 --> 00:32:11.099
of Merit. by Queen Elizabeth II just before he

00:32:11.099 --> 00:32:13.400
died. That is the highest honor in the land,

00:32:13.500 --> 00:32:16.099
a personal gift from the sovereign. It was the

00:32:16.099 --> 00:32:19.019
establishment finally embracing him fully, acknowledging

00:32:19.019 --> 00:32:21.559
his greatness despite the controversy. And he

00:32:21.559 --> 00:32:25.839
died in 1998. October 28, 1998. He suffered a

00:32:25.839 --> 00:32:27.559
fatal heart attack while undergoing treatment

00:32:27.559 --> 00:32:31.000
for colon cancer in London. At his funeral, Seamus

00:32:31.000 --> 00:32:33.480
Heaney, another Nobel Prize winner, a fellow

00:32:33.480 --> 00:32:36.259
poet, and a close friend gave the eulogy. What

00:32:36.259 --> 00:32:39.200
did he say? He described Hughes as a tower of

00:32:39.200 --> 00:32:42.079
tenderness and strength. He said, by his death,

00:32:42.180 --> 00:32:44.700
the veil of poetry is rent and the walls of learning

00:32:44.700 --> 00:32:47.619
broken. A tower of tenderness and strength. That's

00:32:47.619 --> 00:32:50.240
beautiful. A contrast so sharply with the monster

00:32:50.240 --> 00:32:53.099
image from the tabloids. But the tragedy didn't

00:32:53.099 --> 00:32:55.779
end with his death. No. The lingering shadows.

00:32:56.589 --> 00:32:59.410
His son, Nicholas Hughes, the little boy who

00:32:59.410 --> 00:33:01.130
was sleeping in the next room when Plath died,

00:33:01.369 --> 00:33:03.490
the boy for whom The Iron Man was written. What

00:33:03.490 --> 00:33:05.430
happened to him? He became a marine biologist.

00:33:05.569 --> 00:33:08.490
He moved to Alaska. He studied fish again, the

00:33:08.490 --> 00:33:10.349
connection to the water, just like his father.

00:33:10.750 --> 00:33:13.309
But he suffered from depression. And in 2009,

00:33:13.529 --> 00:33:16.309
he took his own life. It's just... It's too much

00:33:16.309 --> 00:33:18.829
tragedy for one family. It feels biblical. It

00:33:18.829 --> 00:33:21.109
really is. It's a Grecian tragedy in modern times.

00:33:21.410 --> 00:33:23.589
And we should mention Carol Hughes, his widow.

00:33:23.769 --> 00:33:26.269
She married him in 1970 and stayed with him until

00:33:26.269 --> 00:33:29.289
the end. She defended his name. She broke her

00:33:29.289 --> 00:33:32.109
own silence in 2013 to publish a memoir. She

00:33:32.109 --> 00:33:33.609
was the one who had to live through the storm

00:33:33.609 --> 00:33:36.529
of public hatred alongside him for over 40 years.

00:33:36.789 --> 00:33:39.430
So what does this all mean when we look at the

00:33:39.430 --> 00:33:42.309
stack of sources, the biography, the poems, the

00:33:42.309 --> 00:33:45.849
scandals? What is the takeaway? I think we have

00:33:45.849 --> 00:33:47.910
to go back to the thought fox. The fox entering

00:33:47.910 --> 00:33:50.390
the dark hole of the head. Hughes spent a lifetime

00:33:50.390 --> 00:33:53.450
trying to capture the raw energy of nature. He

00:33:53.450 --> 00:33:55.430
wanted to bring the fox, the hawk, the crow onto

00:33:55.430 --> 00:33:58.309
the page. He succeeded in that. The page is printed.

00:33:58.589 --> 00:34:00.670
His work stands as some of the most powerful

00:34:00.670 --> 00:34:02.609
in the English language. But there's a question

00:34:02.609 --> 00:34:06.329
that remains. Yes. I wonder if his greatest struggle

00:34:06.329 --> 00:34:08.889
wasn't with nature, but with his own narrative.

00:34:09.420 --> 00:34:12.260
He tried to capture his own life, his own truth,

00:34:12.420 --> 00:34:15.840
in the face of a public that preferred the fantasia.

00:34:16.099 --> 00:34:18.440
They wanted the villain. They wanted the monster.

00:34:18.639 --> 00:34:21.159
And in birthday letters, he finally tried to

00:34:21.159 --> 00:34:23.679
capture the reality of his grief. It's a provocative

00:34:23.679 --> 00:34:26.320
thought. Hughes spent his life as the hunter,

00:34:26.480 --> 00:34:29.460
capturing animals in verse. But in the end, was

00:34:29.460 --> 00:34:32.320
he the one being hunted? Was he the fox and the

00:34:32.320 --> 00:34:36.139
public the hounds? That is the question. And

00:34:36.139 --> 00:34:37.860
maybe the answer is in the poems. We'll leave

00:34:37.860 --> 00:34:39.559
you with that. If you haven't read Crow or Birthday

00:34:39.559 --> 00:34:41.500
Letters, go pick them up. Decide for yourself.

00:34:41.659 --> 00:34:43.579
Don't just read the headlines. Read the poems.

00:34:43.739 --> 00:34:46.119
The page is printed. Thanks for listening to

00:34:46.119 --> 00:34:47.619
The Deep Dive. We'll see you next time.
