Because of Backlisted, I’ve now read two confessional poets: John Berryman and Anne Sexton.

Based on this slim volume – her second published in 1962* – Sexton is the more accessible of the two. What they have in common is a bare-it-all approach, a courage to explore difficult topics, especially mental illness (both Berryman and Sexton, tragically, took their own lives). It was new at the time – thus the confessional tag – and still feels urgent and present; the passing of decades has not dulled these poems.

All My Pretty Ones deals with the loss of Sexton’s parents, her faith, motherhood (which is a fraught topic given Sexton’s abuse of her daughter, which was revealed after her death) and the frailties (though I don’t think that’s the right word) of a woman’s body (On this topic, “The Operation” stands out). There’s a frankness to Sexton’s work, some of it dark, some of it funny, some of it transcendent, some of it small and mundane. 

I used to avoid poetry like the plague. This year has put paid to that, and I’m all the better for it.

*By the by, All My Pretty Ones is well and truly out of print. I sourced my copy on ABE.