The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

I had this novel in my head as a piece of rabid feminism. I think that's because it was in 10 Things I Hate About You, which I watched far too many times with my brother.

I guess it could be construed that way; it having been published in '71, and the way she goes on about sex and marriage, especially when she's lucid.

I think it's a well-written book. I'm not saying it's going to go into my favorites file, but the beginning is entertaining - the thoughts and actions of the main character college girl seem sort of true to form. What she wants from life and what annoys her, what disheartens her, all the everyday things she does, are understandable. It reads almost like some sort of sitcom.

And then everything changes and you're swept up into this different life and you're sucked into her pain and everything she doesn't understand and her disillusionment and learning why the novel is called the Bell Jar.

It's pretty dang good. But, it is without hope, which is why you won't see it on my bookshelf at home or in my favorites file (which exists in my head, so ... hopefully no one's gonna see that.)

I read this in a night. Less than. I started it at like 5:45 and finished it around 10. And that's with stopping for dinner and long chats with my husband, so if you're curious about it, it's not really a time-consuming read.