The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Chapter 1

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the

Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. I'm

stupid about executions. The idea of being electrocuted makes me

sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers - goggle-eyed

headlines staring up at me from every street corner and at the

fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to

do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like,

being burned alive all along your nerves.

I thought it must be the worst thing in the world."