American Isis Read Online Free PDF

themselves and others. They never seemed to realize that what seemed hurtful to others entertained Sylvia, who was by nature a satirist, as Diane Middlebrook clearly shows. This satirical bent explains why Jack Benny was so appealing to Sylvia during her teenage years. Benny’s radio program relentlessly mocked his shortcomings, making fun of his violin playing, his toupee, his stinginess, and even his effeminate way of walking. The program ran a nationwide contest with $10,000 in prizes, asking listeners to complete the phrase, “Why I hate Jack Benny.” Sad to say, there is no way of knowing if Sylvia submitted an entry. A running gag in the show featured movie star Ronald Colman and his wife, forever trying to avoid meetings with Benny, their bumptious neighbor. And Jack gave as good as he got, making fun of his obese announcer, Don Wilson (who was so fat he got stuck in armchairs), mocking the shiftless Rochester, and ridiculing Phil Harris, the program’s band leader, who could not read music—or anything else, for that matter. Sylvia had a habit of mind that naturally reveled in this kind of put down, which audiences encouraged by laughing uproariously at Jack, whether he was the butt of a joke or its author. Benny’s kind of joking—the puncturing of pretentions, including his own—had an aggressive edge. His program regulars tried to outdo one another with comic insults, which built to a crescendo of audience laughter in the best shows. The high energy of these Sunday night programs had obvious appeal for Sylvia and millions of others readying themselves for another workweek. Indeed, anything that could make the competitive nature of society a pleasing diversion had enormous appeal for a young mind as serious as Sylvia’s.
    Wilbury Crockett’s classes brought out Sylvia’s competitive nature. After Crockett described a lengthy reading list and extensive writing assignments, one third of the first day’s class did not return for another lesson, instead transferring to a less demanding section. He developed a cadre of twenty superior students called “Crocketeers.” Otto Plath would have approved of Crockett’s intellectual esprit de corps. This notion of an elect—an elite literary strike force that was also political in nature, keeping abreast of the latest developments in Europe and elsewhere—spurred Sylvia to write about subjects such as the Korean War and the atomic bomb, faithfully following her father’s pacifist politics.
    In the spring of 1947, Sylvia began writing to a pen pal, a German teenager named Hans-Joachim Neupert. They would exchange letters over the next five years, revealing, on Sylvia’s side, a keen desire to discover what the war had been like for a young boy living in a devastatingly bombed landscape. She was acutely aware of her own safe suburban upbringing, mentioning that the life of an American teenager must seem frivolous to Hans. Didn’t he think that, in the end, war was futile? She told him she was considering careers as a foreign correspondent, a newspaper reporter, an author, or an artist. In later letters, she spoke of her writing and the rejections she had received from various publications. These last never seemed to discourage her. She already had the attitude of a professional who realizes that for every acceptance there are scores of dismissals.
    In subsequent letters she drew a map of Massachusetts, stretching from Salem to Winthrop to Boston, Cambridge, Wellesley, and Boston Bay, where a sea serpent is shown popping out of the water with a balloon message: “Hello Hans!” The serpent’s tongue and perky back flipper are visible above the calm water. But below the water line lurks a dragon-like figure with a long serpentine tongue.
    Hans was evidently a good correspondent (his letters have not survived). Sylvia complimented him on his writing, revealing a good deal about her own