Daddy” by sylvia Plath

Write a paper presenting your own interpretation of the Poem “Daddy” by sylvia Plath. In your paper, compare your interpretaion of “Daddy” to the viewpoints in the articles you have chosen.

. Write an essay arguing that the mothers presented in “I Stand Here Ironing,” by Tillie Olsen. “Everyday Use,” by Alice Walker and “Two Kinds” by Amy Tan, are either good or bad models for parenting. Support your point of view with additional articles from professional journals.

TOPICS: Choose one of the three topics below:
1. Choose one of the poems about fathers (by Hayden or Roethke) to argue that our feelings about our fathers are complex, not simple. Support your point of view with additional articles from professional journals.
2. Write a paper presenting your own interpretation of the poem “Daddy” by Sylvia Plath. In your paper, compare your interpretation of “Daddy” to the viewpoints in the articles you have chosen.
3. Write an essay arguing that the mothers presented in “I Stand Here Ironing,” “Everyday Use,” and “Two Kinds” are either good or bad models for parenting. Support your point of view with additional articles from professional journals.

Beginning the Writing Process:
• Once you have found your sources, take notes and highlight important passages. As you write your rough draft, include quotations, paraphrases, and summaries from the articles and from the literary work(s)—cite on a sentence-by-sentence basis as you write the rough draft. Remember that you need a thesis statement which lists the three major points you are going to develop in your paper.
• I will be glad to see your rough draft, provided you give me enough advance time (2-3 days before the due date, at the LEAST).

Daddy
by Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time–
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You–

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone’s off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.

If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two–
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through
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